"I keep telling myself that the ongoing grief is a testament to how loved he is.
You are not abnormal. Grief is an ebb and flow. A cycle of acceptance and disbelief that never ends."
I could tell you that someone wise wrote that. That it is the thought of someone I look up to. That is partially true. I wrote it. And when it comes to the topic of grief, I am wiser now than I was 3 years ago, that's for sure. Some days I think my sheer survival is to be commended - the fact that I have maintained a level of normalcy for our kids and I have helped to build a life they are enjoying and thriving in.
It still surprises me the amount of understanding that is lacking for those experiencing grief. The judgement that lingers. The firm ideas that people who have never tread this path hold so tightly. The looks, oh, the looks.....
Sometimes people don't understand that I still grieve Tim. Maybe their timeline for my grief has passed. Maybe they think that my love for Jason has somehow erased my love for Tim. Sometimes I hear people get frustrated with others who still express their grief with tears. They judge how the other person grieves - they think it should be scheduled or secluded. I still cry. Even in public. I know a lot of people still cry about missing Tim. They wish they could call him and they cry because they can't. They think of the fun times they had together and the realization that those times can't happen again brings them to tears. They remember him as a child, and growing into a young man and an adult and the reality that they will never see him as an old man has their eyes brimming with tears. Me, I think about all of those things, and I think about all that he is missing. I think about how much we loved each other and the unfairness that he is not here to experience his 3 beautiful children growing up, that we don't get to fulfill all those dreams - it makes me cry. I'm crying as I type this, actually.
It's true, I believe our tears and our memories show how loved - how missed he is. It is a testament to our love, to the love that so many people gave him in his lifetime.
This week we will celebrate what would have been Tim's 46th birthday. A trigger. A milestone. A reason to celebrate that he lived. A reason to mourn that he died. It's complicated, and even the other widows in my life know that I can't explain it and even though they identify on some level, they can't fully understand it.
So, please, don't judge me for being stoic. For sobbing uncontrollably on my way to school. For being lost in thought when you want to tell me what a hard week you've had. For being stand-offish or needy. For not wanting to meet for lunch or begging you to come over for dinner. Maybe I need my space or maybe I need to be held like a child. Either way, my reactions are normal.
Grief doesn't go away. I likened it once to alcoholism. Just because you aren't drinking right now doesn't mean you are not an alcoholic. Just because I am living life, loving and raising my children doesn't mean I don't grieve Tim. Grief is a never-ending cycle. There is no cure. There is no end. It is an ebb and flow, and those closest to me know my triggers and understand what I need when I'm having one of those days. The rest of the world is free to be oblivious. It is okay. I kind of prefer it that way.
What is not okay is to pass judgement on someone because their grief does not meet your standards. That is hurtful, and frankly oppressive.
Showing posts with label Tim. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tim. Show all posts
Grief is a Testament
Accepted
"The past can not be changed, forgotten, edited or erased. It can only be accepted."
I'm not sure whose quote that is, but it seems to ring very true when it comes to coping with grief.
I don't think I ever really did the denial thing. I mean, I suppose there is a chance that am in denial about my denial, but I never thought that Tim was coming back. I definitely kept thinks just as they were for a very long time as if I was waiting for him to come back, but my logical mind knew that couldn't happen. Hell, it has been over 2 years and I still have his cell phones, keys and the change from his pockets sitting there on the nightstand. That's not because I think he is coming home to use his old Blackberry - it's because it somehow brings me comfort to see that stuff there. (Plus, I'm pretty sure if he did come back, Brittany and I would quickly convert him to an iphone guy.)
Did you ever read those "Which Way" books as a kid? From the first one I read in 3rd grade, I thought life was just like those books - you come to a point, you make a choice, that choice leads you down an entirely different path than if you had picked the other thing.
Meeting Tim in the first place was a total fluke. I was going to stay home that night instead of going out. Had I arrived any earlier, he would have been with another woman and I wouldn't have given him a second look. Had I arrived later, he would have been gone - a missed meeting that would have sent both of our lives down another path.
There some of those "which way points" that I wished I could have gone back and changed. Most of them had to do with Doctors, tests, knowing sooner. I was still willing to accept that cancer would be part of Tim's journey, part of our journey together, I just wasn't willing to accept it taking him away from me.
Early on in our relationship, we read a book together called the Book of Questions. It is a book that gets you talking about all kinds of subjects and I would recommend it to any couple to spark discussion. Question 19 reads, "You have the chance to meet someone with whom you can have the most satisfying love imaginable - the stuff of dreams. Sadly, you know that in six months the person will die. Knowing the pain that would follow, would you still want to meet the person and fall in love?"
We both said we would want to meet that person. I guess that is the hopeless romantic coming out in us both. We just felt that we were such a good fit and so intended to be together. The happiness of the moment could outshine the impending pain. It is strange to think that we discussed such a thing completely not knowing what the future would hold. We had no idea that Tim had cancer growing inside him from before we even met.
I know I can not change or edit any part of our journey. I would never want to forget or erase any of it - even the horrible, painful parts at the end - because it is our story and everything about our story is special to me.
I accept our story. Not because I wouldn't rewrite the ending if I could, but because I have no choice. Acceptance is what gives me permission to continue living.
I'm not sure whose quote that is, but it seems to ring very true when it comes to coping with grief.
I don't think I ever really did the denial thing. I mean, I suppose there is a chance that am in denial about my denial, but I never thought that Tim was coming back. I definitely kept thinks just as they were for a very long time as if I was waiting for him to come back, but my logical mind knew that couldn't happen. Hell, it has been over 2 years and I still have his cell phones, keys and the change from his pockets sitting there on the nightstand. That's not because I think he is coming home to use his old Blackberry - it's because it somehow brings me comfort to see that stuff there. (Plus, I'm pretty sure if he did come back, Brittany and I would quickly convert him to an iphone guy.)
Did you ever read those "Which Way" books as a kid? From the first one I read in 3rd grade, I thought life was just like those books - you come to a point, you make a choice, that choice leads you down an entirely different path than if you had picked the other thing.
Meeting Tim in the first place was a total fluke. I was going to stay home that night instead of going out. Had I arrived any earlier, he would have been with another woman and I wouldn't have given him a second look. Had I arrived later, he would have been gone - a missed meeting that would have sent both of our lives down another path.
There some of those "which way points" that I wished I could have gone back and changed. Most of them had to do with Doctors, tests, knowing sooner. I was still willing to accept that cancer would be part of Tim's journey, part of our journey together, I just wasn't willing to accept it taking him away from me.
Early on in our relationship, we read a book together called the Book of Questions. It is a book that gets you talking about all kinds of subjects and I would recommend it to any couple to spark discussion. Question 19 reads, "You have the chance to meet someone with whom you can have the most satisfying love imaginable - the stuff of dreams. Sadly, you know that in six months the person will die. Knowing the pain that would follow, would you still want to meet the person and fall in love?"
We both said we would want to meet that person. I guess that is the hopeless romantic coming out in us both. We just felt that we were such a good fit and so intended to be together. The happiness of the moment could outshine the impending pain. It is strange to think that we discussed such a thing completely not knowing what the future would hold. We had no idea that Tim had cancer growing inside him from before we even met.
I know I can not change or edit any part of our journey. I would never want to forget or erase any of it - even the horrible, painful parts at the end - because it is our story and everything about our story is special to me.
I accept our story. Not because I wouldn't rewrite the ending if I could, but because I have no choice. Acceptance is what gives me permission to continue living.
Oh, Happy Day.
Yesterday was a very special day that was met with much anticipation.
Tim's daughter Brittany was married. I am still wrapping my mind around it. I guess to me, she is still partly that 15 year old girl I was so terrified to meet 7 years ago. Just like to her parents, she must be partially the little girl they walked to her first day of Kindergarten or that baby they rocked on sleepless nights. There is something about watching someone grow up that freezes them in your memory, I think.
Truthfully, I ran through every possible scenario in my head leading up to the day, knowing it was going to be a joyful day, but knowing that, more than any other day I can think of, Tim's earthly absence was going to be felt. I knew there was no avoiding that - it just came with the territory.
Of course, Tim was on my mind, but having Ayla & Anson there for the ceremony was a great distraction. Thankful for helpful friends and family or they would have both been running wild. Apparently the exchanging of wedding vows is not great entertainment for toddlers. Who knew??
Brittany and Zac looked wonderful and so in love - it was such an honor to witness their commitment to one another.
My parents put on their "Nana" & "Papa" hats and picked up A&A so that I could enjoy the reception and they could enjoy some toddler time.
Sitting with Tim's family at the reception, there was quite literally an empty place at our table. A seat all set with plates and silverware and glasses missing only one thing - Tim. I don't know if that was intentional or just how it happened.
Their introduction, their first dance. Brittany's bouquet with Tim's badge shining from the ribbons wrapped around her flowers - the symbolism quiet, but the reminder loud - that Tim was there. Toasts were made. Tim's Dad talked about how Tim felt Zac was a good guy. (He did, indeed. He said to me on several occasions, "What do you think of Zac?" When I told him that I liked him he would always say, "Yea, seems like a good guy.")
Still, there was an elephant in the room as we all knew that at most weddings, the "Father Daughter Dance" would happen next. Brittany's stepdad broke the silence in the classiest way, addressing who we were all thinking of. Brittany chose to dance with several important men in her life - her stepdad, both grandpas and her uncle, Tim's brother. It was perfect.
As "Over The Rainbow" faded into "What A Wonderful World", I couldn't help but think of how the lyrics reminded me of Tim's favorite brand, "Life Is Good". That is something he truly believed all the way to his core: life is good.
I know Tim would have given anything to be there walking her down the aisle and to dance to Tim McGraw like she had always envisioned. But it was a beautiful day. And somewhere over the rainbow, Tim is proud of his little girl - his beautiful, grown up little girl who is now Mrs. Walker.
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Tim's daughter Brittany was married. I am still wrapping my mind around it. I guess to me, she is still partly that 15 year old girl I was so terrified to meet 7 years ago. Just like to her parents, she must be partially the little girl they walked to her first day of Kindergarten or that baby they rocked on sleepless nights. There is something about watching someone grow up that freezes them in your memory, I think.
Truthfully, I ran through every possible scenario in my head leading up to the day, knowing it was going to be a joyful day, but knowing that, more than any other day I can think of, Tim's earthly absence was going to be felt. I knew there was no avoiding that - it just came with the territory.
Of course, Tim was on my mind, but having Ayla & Anson there for the ceremony was a great distraction. Thankful for helpful friends and family or they would have both been running wild. Apparently the exchanging of wedding vows is not great entertainment for toddlers. Who knew??
Brittany and Zac looked wonderful and so in love - it was such an honor to witness their commitment to one another.
My parents put on their "Nana" & "Papa" hats and picked up A&A so that I could enjoy the reception and they could enjoy some toddler time.
Sitting with Tim's family at the reception, there was quite literally an empty place at our table. A seat all set with plates and silverware and glasses missing only one thing - Tim. I don't know if that was intentional or just how it happened.
Their introduction, their first dance. Brittany's bouquet with Tim's badge shining from the ribbons wrapped around her flowers - the symbolism quiet, but the reminder loud - that Tim was there. Toasts were made. Tim's Dad talked about how Tim felt Zac was a good guy. (He did, indeed. He said to me on several occasions, "What do you think of Zac?" When I told him that I liked him he would always say, "Yea, seems like a good guy.")
Still, there was an elephant in the room as we all knew that at most weddings, the "Father Daughter Dance" would happen next. Brittany's stepdad broke the silence in the classiest way, addressing who we were all thinking of. Brittany chose to dance with several important men in her life - her stepdad, both grandpas and her uncle, Tim's brother. It was perfect.
As "Over The Rainbow" faded into "What A Wonderful World", I couldn't help but think of how the lyrics reminded me of Tim's favorite brand, "Life Is Good". That is something he truly believed all the way to his core: life is good.
I know Tim would have given anything to be there walking her down the aisle and to dance to Tim McGraw like she had always envisioned. But it was a beautiful day. And somewhere over the rainbow, Tim is proud of his little girl - his beautiful, grown up little girl who is now Mrs. Walker.
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Lightning Striking Twice?
"Lightning never strikes twice."
That quote was in my mind after Tim died a lot. I mean, I never imagined that I would love a man as amazing as Tim. He was so good to me, truly teaching me the meaning of "how you deserve to be treated". I'm not just one of those widows who makes their late husband into a perfect person after he is gone - ask anyone who knew him - he was pretty close to perfect. He would deny being perfect, instead telling me that, "I'm just perfect for you."
So when Tim was gone, I pretty much convinced myself that I'd had the last of the Good Men out there and that I was destined to be alone or at best, with someone mediocre. And you know what, I was okay with that because I knew I'd had the best already. To expect, or even hope, for that to happen twice would be just plain greedy.
How did it happen, then, that instead I met someone wonderful? Was he a gift? A gift from Tim? A birthday gift from Tim? He always did love giving a good gift. Who knows. But he loves me. He looks out for A&A. He loves them, hugs them, helps them, sits in time out with them, builds them a new bed because they learn to climb out of the old one, reaches back to hold their hand in the car if they are crying. He listens to me, actually hears what I say, holds me when I cry, supports me, asks me questions about my past, my present and my dreams. He accepts me and doesn't think of my "baggage" as being "baggage" at all.
He is different from Tim in many ways, but he is exactly what I need right now. What we need.
Maybe lightning does strike twice.
That quote was in my mind after Tim died a lot. I mean, I never imagined that I would love a man as amazing as Tim. He was so good to me, truly teaching me the meaning of "how you deserve to be treated". I'm not just one of those widows who makes their late husband into a perfect person after he is gone - ask anyone who knew him - he was pretty close to perfect. He would deny being perfect, instead telling me that, "I'm just perfect for you."
So when Tim was gone, I pretty much convinced myself that I'd had the last of the Good Men out there and that I was destined to be alone or at best, with someone mediocre. And you know what, I was okay with that because I knew I'd had the best already. To expect, or even hope, for that to happen twice would be just plain greedy.
How did it happen, then, that instead I met someone wonderful? Was he a gift? A gift from Tim? A birthday gift from Tim? He always did love giving a good gift. Who knows. But he loves me. He looks out for A&A. He loves them, hugs them, helps them, sits in time out with them, builds them a new bed because they learn to climb out of the old one, reaches back to hold their hand in the car if they are crying. He listens to me, actually hears what I say, holds me when I cry, supports me, asks me questions about my past, my present and my dreams. He accepts me and doesn't think of my "baggage" as being "baggage" at all.
He is different from Tim in many ways, but he is exactly what I need right now. What we need.
Maybe lightning does strike twice.
Brave
Yesterday I drove the kids 2 hours north to visit Tim's mom & dad at their house. I haven't done many solo car rides in the last 2 years - for one it is hard with the 2 kids. Also, the music in the car can sometimes trigger emotions in me.
On this trip, I borrowed a car that gets better gas mileage than mine. I had no way to hook up my ipod. That meant no "safe" playlists. Radio stations all faded the farther we got from home. The one that remained was a "top 40" type station that I wouldn't normally listen to, but it was better than the deafening silence with A&A dozed off in the back.
I heard a song twice on that ride. The chorus says, "I want to see you be brave." I didn't hear any of the other lyrics.
Brave.
That brought back a flood of memories in a quick flash that left me with tear stained cheeks.
Although I think that battling cancer brought out the absolute best in Tim, I never, ever want to see anyone else I love "be brave". I don't want them to need to.
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That last week is a blur. There are parts that stand out, but the lack of sleep, the stressful pregnancy, Tim's nausea and vomiting.... it is a blurred mess.
One of his best friends since childhood had gotten into the habit of coming to see him every day. I liked that, because there were others of his friends who didn't come - couldn't come - didn't want to come. Having him visit with Tim made me happy.
Until one day that last week.
He always asked me about Tim's blood counts and asked for very specific information. At some point that week it occurred to me why he was asking. His wife is an oncological nurse. Then it hit me why he was here every day. Because they thought Tim was dying.
This occurred to me in the middle of the day as I sat in the den working on the computer and as Tim sat on the couch watching a movie and waiting to throw up. I sat in the den and cried and cried until I could cry no more. I felt the weight of a thousand elephants on my chest. I felt like my head was going to explode. I was just sick.
I slipped quietly into our bedroom and washed my face, put in some eye drops and put on a little makeup so Tim wouldn't know I'd been crying.
I needed to be close to him. I came out into the living room to sit so close to him I was almost on top of him. Immediately he asked me what was wrong. I could never fool him - he read me like a book.
"I'm scared, " I admitted as he gathered me even closer to hold me. "Aren't you ever scared?"
In the voice of a man so weak that he chose his words carefully as not to exhaust himself, Tim said, "I'm not sacred. I'm brave."
I can hear him speaking those words in my mind at will. It is both haunting and comforting. It rips my heart out and it makes me so, so proud.
Tim was braver than I could ever be, braver than anyone I have ever known. He was brave enough for all of us and used his energy to love and protect those he cared about. He fought to the very end to educate men about prostate cancer so that no man would have to go through what he did.
That is true bravery. Bravery that I hope the young girl singing that song knows nothing about. Bravery like I hope to never experience or witness again.
On this trip, I borrowed a car that gets better gas mileage than mine. I had no way to hook up my ipod. That meant no "safe" playlists. Radio stations all faded the farther we got from home. The one that remained was a "top 40" type station that I wouldn't normally listen to, but it was better than the deafening silence with A&A dozed off in the back.
I heard a song twice on that ride. The chorus says, "I want to see you be brave." I didn't hear any of the other lyrics.
Brave.
That brought back a flood of memories in a quick flash that left me with tear stained cheeks.
Although I think that battling cancer brought out the absolute best in Tim, I never, ever want to see anyone else I love "be brave". I don't want them to need to.
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That last week is a blur. There are parts that stand out, but the lack of sleep, the stressful pregnancy, Tim's nausea and vomiting.... it is a blurred mess.
One of his best friends since childhood had gotten into the habit of coming to see him every day. I liked that, because there were others of his friends who didn't come - couldn't come - didn't want to come. Having him visit with Tim made me happy.
Until one day that last week.
He always asked me about Tim's blood counts and asked for very specific information. At some point that week it occurred to me why he was asking. His wife is an oncological nurse. Then it hit me why he was here every day. Because they thought Tim was dying.
This occurred to me in the middle of the day as I sat in the den working on the computer and as Tim sat on the couch watching a movie and waiting to throw up. I sat in the den and cried and cried until I could cry no more. I felt the weight of a thousand elephants on my chest. I felt like my head was going to explode. I was just sick.
I slipped quietly into our bedroom and washed my face, put in some eye drops and put on a little makeup so Tim wouldn't know I'd been crying.
I needed to be close to him. I came out into the living room to sit so close to him I was almost on top of him. Immediately he asked me what was wrong. I could never fool him - he read me like a book.
"I'm scared, " I admitted as he gathered me even closer to hold me. "Aren't you ever scared?"
In the voice of a man so weak that he chose his words carefully as not to exhaust himself, Tim said, "I'm not sacred. I'm brave."
I can hear him speaking those words in my mind at will. It is both haunting and comforting. It rips my heart out and it makes me so, so proud.
Tim was braver than I could ever be, braver than anyone I have ever known. He was brave enough for all of us and used his energy to love and protect those he cared about. He fought to the very end to educate men about prostate cancer so that no man would have to go through what he did.
That is true bravery. Bravery that I hope the young girl singing that song knows nothing about. Bravery like I hope to never experience or witness again.
Broad Shoulders
When is it that people start to go away? When do people figure you've got it under control? That you don't need them anymore?
Many widows or widowers can answer this question. It's when you start dating. Maybe that is why I have refrained for talking about that here.... It is certainly not a secret in my "real" life. But in my "real" life, I know who is watching me. Here I don't.
Once that leap of faith into dating is taken, people start to pull away. Mostly the people associated with your spouse, I would guess - their friends, family, co-workers. Maybe it is because it is painful to see you moving forward, a constant reminder that time marches on. Maybe it is because they think this means you are "all better" now. Maybe there is some discomfort thinking that you are "replacing" your lost spouse.
The new man is expected by some to sweep in and repair the pieces of your broken heart while taking on all the responsibilities that your spouse had, that other people had helped with up until now. He is supposed to not only be okay with all these sudden expectations, he should be gracious about it. He should respect your spouse and all the talk of him and all the photos of him on the walls. He should take on some of the fatherly roles but know that he will never be their father. Inside he wonders if he will always feel like second best. It takes some pretty broad shoulders to carry that weight.
The truth is that moving forward does not mean that you love your spouse any less. It doesn't mean that you are leaving that part of your life behind or trying to forget. Moving forward is not the same as moving on - moving forward is just starting a new chapter. It doesn't mean that you want to erase the ones that came before. All it means is that you recognize that you deserve to be happy once again - that your spouse showed you a love so great that even after the heartbreak of losing them, you still believe in love.
I read somewhere that it takes a strong man to handle a broken woman.
When a man dates a widow, he is getting a lot more than he bargained for - a truly broken woman. Women as a species are different from men, and therefore a lot of men have a hard time with them. With a widow, there is a lot of emotional baggage that must be dealt with tenderly, but not so tenderly as to make her think that you think she is weak. Those men are constantly walking the tightrope that is loving a broken woman. This is to be commended. Respected.
I can tell you one thing, I think Tim would respect the hell out of the man who loves me now. And he's got some pretty broad shoulders.
Many widows or widowers can answer this question. It's when you start dating. Maybe that is why I have refrained for talking about that here.... It is certainly not a secret in my "real" life. But in my "real" life, I know who is watching me. Here I don't.
Once that leap of faith into dating is taken, people start to pull away. Mostly the people associated with your spouse, I would guess - their friends, family, co-workers. Maybe it is because it is painful to see you moving forward, a constant reminder that time marches on. Maybe it is because they think this means you are "all better" now. Maybe there is some discomfort thinking that you are "replacing" your lost spouse.
The new man is expected by some to sweep in and repair the pieces of your broken heart while taking on all the responsibilities that your spouse had, that other people had helped with up until now. He is supposed to not only be okay with all these sudden expectations, he should be gracious about it. He should respect your spouse and all the talk of him and all the photos of him on the walls. He should take on some of the fatherly roles but know that he will never be their father. Inside he wonders if he will always feel like second best. It takes some pretty broad shoulders to carry that weight.
The truth is that moving forward does not mean that you love your spouse any less. It doesn't mean that you are leaving that part of your life behind or trying to forget. Moving forward is not the same as moving on - moving forward is just starting a new chapter. It doesn't mean that you want to erase the ones that came before. All it means is that you recognize that you deserve to be happy once again - that your spouse showed you a love so great that even after the heartbreak of losing them, you still believe in love.
I read somewhere that it takes a strong man to handle a broken woman.
When a man dates a widow, he is getting a lot more than he bargained for - a truly broken woman. Women as a species are different from men, and therefore a lot of men have a hard time with them. With a widow, there is a lot of emotional baggage that must be dealt with tenderly, but not so tenderly as to make her think that you think she is weak. Those men are constantly walking the tightrope that is loving a broken woman. This is to be commended. Respected.
I can tell you one thing, I think Tim would respect the hell out of the man who loves me now. And he's got some pretty broad shoulders.
August
Oh, August. Here we are again. You know I hate you. You fill me with dread and cause memories of all of the "lasts" to come flooding back with your heat and your monsoons and your long, golden sunsets. It is as if I am just waiting for you to pass, but I would never wish away time because I know how precious it is.
Truth be told, I even hated that the expiration date on my debit card was this month. I hated having to write it. I hated that my husband expired before my debit card. I hate when people use the word "expired" when referring to a person.
I wonder will there ever be a day when August doesn't fill me with dread? With the 27th of any month come and go unnoticed instead of it marking another month passed since I have seen him, kissed him, held him, talked to him?
A&A are 18 months old right now. Every accomplishment they have had, every step they have taken, every sight they have seen he has not been here to hold their hands through it. To them, Daddy is a photograph. They couldn't identify him across a room by how he walks or his laugh. They don't know what it feels like to be comforted by their Daddy when they get hurt. I still remember what it feels like to be comforted by my dad and I am 33. They will never get that.
At least I still have the memories. I remember our kisses like they happened yesterday - the first kiss and the last kiss. Last week I came out of a meeting and as I was walking to my car, I reached into my purse and pulled out my cell phone to call him. I guess that is just how my mind works. 5 years of telling him everything, of having a best friend who was also my perfect partner - part of me will never be able to let him go.
Now I just have to make it through another August without cracking.
Truth be told, I even hated that the expiration date on my debit card was this month. I hated having to write it. I hated that my husband expired before my debit card. I hate when people use the word "expired" when referring to a person.
I wonder will there ever be a day when August doesn't fill me with dread? With the 27th of any month come and go unnoticed instead of it marking another month passed since I have seen him, kissed him, held him, talked to him?
A&A are 18 months old right now. Every accomplishment they have had, every step they have taken, every sight they have seen he has not been here to hold their hands through it. To them, Daddy is a photograph. They couldn't identify him across a room by how he walks or his laugh. They don't know what it feels like to be comforted by their Daddy when they get hurt. I still remember what it feels like to be comforted by my dad and I am 33. They will never get that.
At least I still have the memories. I remember our kisses like they happened yesterday - the first kiss and the last kiss. Last week I came out of a meeting and as I was walking to my car, I reached into my purse and pulled out my cell phone to call him. I guess that is just how my mind works. 5 years of telling him everything, of having a best friend who was also my perfect partner - part of me will never be able to let him go.
Now I just have to make it through another August without cracking.
It's Gonna Be Packed
"It's gonna be paaacked."
I heard those words weekly from Tim. It's what he would say to make sure we got to the movies early enough for his liking. If it were not, in fact, "packed", I would give him a little bit of a hard time. Something along the lines of, "Well, I am glad we got here in time so that these other 7 people didn't take all the good seats!" And we would laugh as we watched the same ads 3 or 4 times.
Before we started dating, I hadn't seen a movie in the theater in a couple years. Before that it had been a few years. I just wasn't much into it.
On our first date, I learned that he was very into movies. We had gone to dinner and were finally leaving the restaurant after about 3 hours of talking. I really didn't want to go home and I saw there was a theater right there, so I asked if he would like to see a movie. He was thrilled. Thrilled enough to see a movie he'd already seen at least once.
He taught me a lot about movies starting with that first date:
- Get your tickets at the machine because it is quicker.
- Always bring your Harkins cups and popcorn shirt.
- Never wear the shirt. Leave it in the shrink wrap and put it in your purse or pocket.
- Get 4 napkins per person - 2 for your buttery fingers and 2 for your cup. Unless it's a sad movie, then grab some extras.
- Fold the napkins for your cup to make a square. Put it around the bottom of your cup to keep it from sweating on you.
- Sit on the end in case you have to get up and go to the bathroom.
- Eat your Goobers by sucking off all the chocolate first.
- Dump your cup on the way out of the theater. Rinse it out in the bathroom.
- Popcorn gets eaten first. Candy can not be opened until the movie begins.
For a while after Tim died, the smell of popcorn had me in tears and nearly in a panic attack. Silly, right? It's just popcorn. But it wasn't something that I smelled a lot before he came into my life - it was a smell I associated with just him, like his cologne.
I forced myself into seeing a movie a few months after he was gone. Then another one a few months later. It wasn't until recently that I realized how much I really missed going to the movies. Yes, I missed holding Tim's arm as I sat there, but now just being there didn't make me sad, it made me happy that I'd had him to show me the ropes, and that someday I will be able to show A&A how it's done.
I heard those words weekly from Tim. It's what he would say to make sure we got to the movies early enough for his liking. If it were not, in fact, "packed", I would give him a little bit of a hard time. Something along the lines of, "Well, I am glad we got here in time so that these other 7 people didn't take all the good seats!" And we would laugh as we watched the same ads 3 or 4 times.
Before we started dating, I hadn't seen a movie in the theater in a couple years. Before that it had been a few years. I just wasn't much into it.
On our first date, I learned that he was very into movies. We had gone to dinner and were finally leaving the restaurant after about 3 hours of talking. I really didn't want to go home and I saw there was a theater right there, so I asked if he would like to see a movie. He was thrilled. Thrilled enough to see a movie he'd already seen at least once.
He taught me a lot about movies starting with that first date:
- Get your tickets at the machine because it is quicker.
- Always bring your Harkins cups and popcorn shirt.
- Never wear the shirt. Leave it in the shrink wrap and put it in your purse or pocket.
- Get 4 napkins per person - 2 for your buttery fingers and 2 for your cup. Unless it's a sad movie, then grab some extras.
- Fold the napkins for your cup to make a square. Put it around the bottom of your cup to keep it from sweating on you.
- Sit on the end in case you have to get up and go to the bathroom.
- Eat your Goobers by sucking off all the chocolate first.
- Dump your cup on the way out of the theater. Rinse it out in the bathroom.
- Popcorn gets eaten first. Candy can not be opened until the movie begins.
For a while after Tim died, the smell of popcorn had me in tears and nearly in a panic attack. Silly, right? It's just popcorn. But it wasn't something that I smelled a lot before he came into my life - it was a smell I associated with just him, like his cologne.
I forced myself into seeing a movie a few months after he was gone. Then another one a few months later. It wasn't until recently that I realized how much I really missed going to the movies. Yes, I missed holding Tim's arm as I sat there, but now just being there didn't make me sad, it made me happy that I'd had him to show me the ropes, and that someday I will be able to show A&A how it's done.
Once Upon A Time: Amazing
Once upon a time, in a land that now feels like a dream, I had the most amazing husband. He knew everything about me and he still loved me. He saw my short temper, he knew what combination of events could make me become emotional. He loved to watch cry movies with me. He respected my friendships. He loved my cats - even the one who hates everyone but me.
The love that we had was unparalleled. He got my twisted humor, he made me laugh, he took pictures with me, he acted serious and silly with me. He knew what to say to get me out of a funk. He was socially ideal, fitting into any social situation he was required to fit into. He thought I was great at everything I did and had no issue telling his friends and fellow officers as much. He was truly at a loss for words when I got dressed up. He would tell me, "Wow..... You look great - you always look great." When we went out, he would say, "Let's go make people jealous". It wan't because he was full of himself, he just believed we were that good together.
I was blessed.
Not many women get to feel that appreciated, that loved.
Because he knew me so well, he always knew what I needed and what I needed to hear. He said the most perfect things to me at the most perfect moments. He never judged me or made me feel like I wasn't good enough. He never made me feel like I was lacking in any way. He did things to make my life better, easier, so that we could spend more time together doing everything or nothing at all.
That is something that most men have not mastered, but Tim, he made me feel good about myself when others had made me feed bad about myself. He was one of those people that just made people around him feel good.
In my grief group, I learned that many widows idealize their husbands after they die. That never happened to me because I idealized my husband in life. I would often tell Tim that he was perfect. He would reply, "I'm not perfect - I'm just perfect for you."
I guess everyone has flaws. His only flaw was that he picked at his toenails. Really. That was it.
I like to think that I have not used my experience with Tim to set expectations, but I do know that above all else he showed me how he thought I deserved to be treated.
The love that we had was unparalleled. He got my twisted humor, he made me laugh, he took pictures with me, he acted serious and silly with me. He knew what to say to get me out of a funk. He was socially ideal, fitting into any social situation he was required to fit into. He thought I was great at everything I did and had no issue telling his friends and fellow officers as much. He was truly at a loss for words when I got dressed up. He would tell me, "Wow..... You look great - you always look great." When we went out, he would say, "Let's go make people jealous". It wan't because he was full of himself, he just believed we were that good together.
I was blessed.
Not many women get to feel that appreciated, that loved.
Because he knew me so well, he always knew what I needed and what I needed to hear. He said the most perfect things to me at the most perfect moments. He never judged me or made me feel like I wasn't good enough. He never made me feel like I was lacking in any way. He did things to make my life better, easier, so that we could spend more time together doing everything or nothing at all.
That is something that most men have not mastered, but Tim, he made me feel good about myself when others had made me feed bad about myself. He was one of those people that just made people around him feel good.
In my grief group, I learned that many widows idealize their husbands after they die. That never happened to me because I idealized my husband in life. I would often tell Tim that he was perfect. He would reply, "I'm not perfect - I'm just perfect for you."
I guess everyone has flaws. His only flaw was that he picked at his toenails. Really. That was it.
I like to think that I have not used my experience with Tim to set expectations, but I do know that above all else he showed me how he thought I deserved to be treated.
Happy Father's Day
It is hard to believe that it was just 2 short years ago at this time that we announced our pregnancy to our families with such excitement - the future gleaming in our eyes. The only time I ever saw Tim as excited as he was when he talked about "The Twins" was when he talked about Brittany. This was a man who was born to be a Dad. He had a proven track record as an incredible Dad and I was excited to parent with him.
For his first Father's Day with A&A, even though we had just learned they existed, I got him a little present to give him at the dinners with each of our families. One was coasters I had made him for his under-construction bar. They were hand stamped by me with a special "Barber" monogram. The other was a t-shirt, which he was especially proud of:
That t-shirt was one that choked my up when I recently folded up Tim's clothes and put them in boxes. It wasn't even the shirts, pants, underwear that upset me - it was the memories of him wearing those things and my decision to fold them and put them in the garage, essentially removing Tim from our closet. It was time. His scent had long ago faded from those clothes - even the last ones that he wore.
Last year on Father's Day, the kids and I were sitting at Tim's grave, uncertain of the future and completely devastated. I still celebrated the day because I am fortunate enough to still have my Dad, but I was just heartbroken that A&A don't have theirs.
I guess at least I can say that this year, things are moving in a better direction. I am moving in a forward direction, which I know Tim would appreciate. And the kids are growing up. They have known who Tim is since they were itty bitty. They have been able to identify him in photos since long before they could talk. Now, they recognize him even in photos during his chemo when he had no hair and they declare him "Dada" and "DeeDee". Ayla occasionally tell me "DeeDee" is in places other than pictures, which brings me joy because A) I believe that he is with us and B) Tim wasn't sure what he believed as far as life after death, so this means I was right, even if he can't verbally tell me so.
Certainly Anson & Ayla do not know WHAT a "Daddy" is, but they know WHO their Daddy is.
And, again, we will spend this Father's Day visiting Tim at the cemetery, where they will point to the picture on his headstone when I ask, "Where's Daddy?"
This year, my goal is to build a place where A&A can go to learn "Who is Daddy?" They will get to know him from every perspective. This will be my Father's Day gift to the best Dad our kids never got to know. I hope to have a lot of help and contributions in making it everything it should be
It will be called http://www.knowingdaddy.com
For his first Father's Day with A&A, even though we had just learned they existed, I got him a little present to give him at the dinners with each of our families. One was coasters I had made him for his under-construction bar. They were hand stamped by me with a special "Barber" monogram. The other was a t-shirt, which he was especially proud of:
That t-shirt was one that choked my up when I recently folded up Tim's clothes and put them in boxes. It wasn't even the shirts, pants, underwear that upset me - it was the memories of him wearing those things and my decision to fold them and put them in the garage, essentially removing Tim from our closet. It was time. His scent had long ago faded from those clothes - even the last ones that he wore.
Last year on Father's Day, the kids and I were sitting at Tim's grave, uncertain of the future and completely devastated. I still celebrated the day because I am fortunate enough to still have my Dad, but I was just heartbroken that A&A don't have theirs.
I guess at least I can say that this year, things are moving in a better direction. I am moving in a forward direction, which I know Tim would appreciate. And the kids are growing up. They have known who Tim is since they were itty bitty. They have been able to identify him in photos since long before they could talk. Now, they recognize him even in photos during his chemo when he had no hair and they declare him "Dada" and "DeeDee". Ayla occasionally tell me "DeeDee" is in places other than pictures, which brings me joy because A) I believe that he is with us and B) Tim wasn't sure what he believed as far as life after death, so this means I was right, even if he can't verbally tell me so.
Certainly Anson & Ayla do not know WHAT a "Daddy" is, but they know WHO their Daddy is.
And, again, we will spend this Father's Day visiting Tim at the cemetery, where they will point to the picture on his headstone when I ask, "Where's Daddy?"
This year, my goal is to build a place where A&A can go to learn "Who is Daddy?" They will get to know him from every perspective. This will be my Father's Day gift to the best Dad our kids never got to know. I hope to have a lot of help and contributions in making it everything it should be
It will be called http://www.knowingdaddy.com
Time
I can't tell you how many times I have heard the phrase, "Time heals all wounds". While that may be true for physical wounds, it is not true for me in my grief.
I think of my grief as a box. It is made of very heavy metal. It looks a lot like Tim's urn. The edges of it are extremely sharp- like razor blades. Everywhere I go, the box is tumbling alongside nearby. I can not escape it. Sometimes I think I am free of it, if only for a few hours. Then it comes out of nowhere and cuts me open with it's razor edges, reopening wounds that I thought had healed, creating new ones, and leaving me a mess. It takes awhile to feel like I am stable.
As time goes on, the box is always there.
Silently tumbling beside me, behind me.... never far away.
Over time, the edges are less sharp, and I learn to expect it to come out and hurt me. I know what can trigger it and I either avoid or brace myself for it. Sometimes I even spend so much time anticipating the pain it is going to cause me that the anticipation is worse than the hurt it actually inflicts.
As the edges begin to dull, the cuts are less frequent, less deep. Instead it is like blunt force trauma. Being punched in the gut and the air knocked out of me. Being hit in the head and having a headache for a day or two. Having my heart being stomped on and spending days being embarrassingly emotionally vulnerable.
I think that no matter where life leads me, there will always be this box following me around. Anyone who knows me or dares to love me will have to deal with the effects it has on me. It is like my own shadow - part of me. A stark contract to the bounce in my step and happy time when Tim was here beside me.
I think that those who chose not to face their grief head-on are denying themselves something important. Placing their grief in it's own rightful box and burying it so deep within themselves that even they aren't sure it exists. They feel that "time" has healed them, when in fact there has been no healing, only refusal to face the devastating reality that, well, life isn't fair. At all.
Time, for me, doesn't heal. The pain, it changes. I learn to expect it, I learn the best ways to deal with it, but grief is an ongoing process. One that will likely last my lifetime. My love for Tim and my grief over losing him are part of the fabric of my being, and neither time, nor space, nor separation will change that.
I think of my grief as a box. It is made of very heavy metal. It looks a lot like Tim's urn. The edges of it are extremely sharp- like razor blades. Everywhere I go, the box is tumbling alongside nearby. I can not escape it. Sometimes I think I am free of it, if only for a few hours. Then it comes out of nowhere and cuts me open with it's razor edges, reopening wounds that I thought had healed, creating new ones, and leaving me a mess. It takes awhile to feel like I am stable.
As time goes on, the box is always there.
Silently tumbling beside me, behind me.... never far away.
Over time, the edges are less sharp, and I learn to expect it to come out and hurt me. I know what can trigger it and I either avoid or brace myself for it. Sometimes I even spend so much time anticipating the pain it is going to cause me that the anticipation is worse than the hurt it actually inflicts.
As the edges begin to dull, the cuts are less frequent, less deep. Instead it is like blunt force trauma. Being punched in the gut and the air knocked out of me. Being hit in the head and having a headache for a day or two. Having my heart being stomped on and spending days being embarrassingly emotionally vulnerable.
I think that no matter where life leads me, there will always be this box following me around. Anyone who knows me or dares to love me will have to deal with the effects it has on me. It is like my own shadow - part of me. A stark contract to the bounce in my step and happy time when Tim was here beside me.
I think that those who chose not to face their grief head-on are denying themselves something important. Placing their grief in it's own rightful box and burying it so deep within themselves that even they aren't sure it exists. They feel that "time" has healed them, when in fact there has been no healing, only refusal to face the devastating reality that, well, life isn't fair. At all.
Time, for me, doesn't heal. The pain, it changes. I learn to expect it, I learn the best ways to deal with it, but grief is an ongoing process. One that will likely last my lifetime. My love for Tim and my grief over losing him are part of the fabric of my being, and neither time, nor space, nor separation will change that.
7 Whole Months!
It is hard for me to believe that Ayla & Anson are now 7 months old. Time is moving quickly, yet I have little memory of what life was like before they arrived. Harder still is trying to reconcile our old life with this new life. It truly feels like 2 different lives to me.
The last month has brought a bevy of exciting changes and development.
Anson got his first and second tooth on the bottom and only 3 days apart. He was a trooper about it, fussing little.
Ayla finally caved and talked. She didn't say "Ahmama" as Anson did, instead she waited until she could say "Mom" plain as day. She has since started working on her "B" sounds.
Ayla is rolling and scooting all over the place. She can hold herself up on the edge of the couch if I help her to stand initially. Crawling seems eminent. Baby gates are gleaming in our near future.
Anson is becoming more mobility motivated as well. His rolling has improved and he can pivot on his tummy to change direction easily.
A&A started swimming lessons and are loving their time in the pool practicing their little skills.
Ayla has begun giving "kisses". I use the term loosely because she actually just opens her mouth, grabs your face and slimes your cheek. Puckering is a skill to be learned in the future, apparently.
Both kids are sleeping more like little children instead of babies. When I lay them down, they roll all over the crib to find a comfortable position, sometimes on their sides or with their little butts in the air. It is too cute.
We took our first road trip to San Diego to visit with friends. I am proud to report that the trip was pretty mellow and without any major disasters aside from one little diaper blow out disaster on the way.
Ayla continues to be the mischievous one, always coveting her bother's toys or pacifier. She wall try to steal his binky even if hers is in her mouth. Pretty much any toy he has is more appealing than whatever she is playing with at the moment. Anson is pretty laid back and usually lets her have what she wants... except the binky. That is sacred.
They are both impressing me very much with their recognition of people and things. We look at pictures of Tim in our hallway daily and talk about "Where's Daddy?". Both kids will look at Tim when I ask. This month when we went to Tim's parent's house to visit, I carried them each over to their refrigerator, which is covered in photos, and asked, "Where's Daddy?". Ayla immediately looked at his picture, one they had never seen before, and smiled. Anson leaned over and pointed and tapped Daddy's picture.
It is amazing to me what they know at such a young age.
The last month has brought a bevy of exciting changes and development.
Anson got his first and second tooth on the bottom and only 3 days apart. He was a trooper about it, fussing little.
Ayla finally caved and talked. She didn't say "Ahmama" as Anson did, instead she waited until she could say "Mom" plain as day. She has since started working on her "B" sounds.
Ayla is rolling and scooting all over the place. She can hold herself up on the edge of the couch if I help her to stand initially. Crawling seems eminent. Baby gates are gleaming in our near future.
Anson is becoming more mobility motivated as well. His rolling has improved and he can pivot on his tummy to change direction easily.
A&A started swimming lessons and are loving their time in the pool practicing their little skills.
Ayla has begun giving "kisses". I use the term loosely because she actually just opens her mouth, grabs your face and slimes your cheek. Puckering is a skill to be learned in the future, apparently.
Both kids are sleeping more like little children instead of babies. When I lay them down, they roll all over the crib to find a comfortable position, sometimes on their sides or with their little butts in the air. It is too cute.
We took our first road trip to San Diego to visit with friends. I am proud to report that the trip was pretty mellow and without any major disasters aside from one little diaper blow out disaster on the way.
Ayla continues to be the mischievous one, always coveting her bother's toys or pacifier. She wall try to steal his binky even if hers is in her mouth. Pretty much any toy he has is more appealing than whatever she is playing with at the moment. Anson is pretty laid back and usually lets her have what she wants... except the binky. That is sacred.
They are both impressing me very much with their recognition of people and things. We look at pictures of Tim in our hallway daily and talk about "Where's Daddy?". Both kids will look at Tim when I ask. This month when we went to Tim's parent's house to visit, I carried them each over to their refrigerator, which is covered in photos, and asked, "Where's Daddy?". Ayla immediately looked at his picture, one they had never seen before, and smiled. Anson leaned over and pointed and tapped Daddy's picture.
It is amazing to me what they know at such a young age.
Half Birthday
Happy (very belated) 6 months to my little loves. I am a naughty mommy for not getting this posted in a timely manner, but I think they are still young enough to forgive me.
I feel like there are little milestones every day and Anson & Ayla are becoming their own people more and more. Their personalities couldn't be more different, and that thrills me. Ayla is very outgoing and cheerful, but expects her wants, needs and desires to be met Right This Minute. She likes to be active and would rather roll and scoot all over the place as opposed to sit still to play with a toy. Anson is more laid back and enjoys figuring out how things work. He likes the toys on the bouncer more than bouncing and loves blocks and his xylophone.
This month Anson started the process of being fitted for a DOC Band. This is a medical device that looks like a helmet. It will help to reshape his head, which has some flattening from being cramped in the tummy with his sister and unable to move around the last few months of our pregnancy. In the next couple of weeks it will get a fun design courtesy of The Wrap Shoppe who designs them as a public service. Stay tuned for pictures when that arrives.
Although their spoken vocabularies are limited (Anson is the only one "talking" and his only word is "Mama" which he uses to beckon me.), they are recognizing certain words and commands:
Where's Kaiser? - Ayla especially will look around to find him when you mention his name. She acknowledges that she has a brother and that he is "okay", but she LOVES that dog. They are besties.
Two Hands - Both kids will hold their own bottles with 2 hands when you remind them. This is particularly helpful with Anson who likes to "wag" his bottle with his left hand only. (I think we have a little leftie on our hands!)
Up - Both kids will reach up to you to be picked up. If Ayla is in the bouncer, she will straighten her legs to "stand" for you to pick her up.
Can You Shake Hands? - Anson will reach out and flatten his right hand to shake hands. He prefers if he is told "it's very nice to meet you" in conjunction with this.
Where's Daddy? - Both kids will look at photos of Tim in the hallway if you pause and talk to them about him. This is both sweet and very sad to me, because I hate that they might think the pictures are called Daddy and not realize that he was a real man who loved them so much.
Bite - Ayla is loving trying all these new foods and will open for a bite. Anson, on the other hand, has not quite mastered the art of eating and really prefers not to have to eat real food. (I totally understood this when they were eating only cereal because that stuff is gross, but I have made them homemade foods of carrots, sweet potatoes, avocado and squash, all of which were pretty tasty!)
These kids are fortunate to have so many people in their lives who love them so much. I am fortunate to have people around me who realize that I need help sometimes. We are all making it through one day at a time.
I feel like there are little milestones every day and Anson & Ayla are becoming their own people more and more. Their personalities couldn't be more different, and that thrills me. Ayla is very outgoing and cheerful, but expects her wants, needs and desires to be met Right This Minute. She likes to be active and would rather roll and scoot all over the place as opposed to sit still to play with a toy. Anson is more laid back and enjoys figuring out how things work. He likes the toys on the bouncer more than bouncing and loves blocks and his xylophone.
This month Anson started the process of being fitted for a DOC Band. This is a medical device that looks like a helmet. It will help to reshape his head, which has some flattening from being cramped in the tummy with his sister and unable to move around the last few months of our pregnancy. In the next couple of weeks it will get a fun design courtesy of The Wrap Shoppe who designs them as a public service. Stay tuned for pictures when that arrives.
Although their spoken vocabularies are limited (Anson is the only one "talking" and his only word is "Mama" which he uses to beckon me.), they are recognizing certain words and commands:
Where's Kaiser? - Ayla especially will look around to find him when you mention his name. She acknowledges that she has a brother and that he is "okay", but she LOVES that dog. They are besties.
Two Hands - Both kids will hold their own bottles with 2 hands when you remind them. This is particularly helpful with Anson who likes to "wag" his bottle with his left hand only. (I think we have a little leftie on our hands!)
Up - Both kids will reach up to you to be picked up. If Ayla is in the bouncer, she will straighten her legs to "stand" for you to pick her up.
Can You Shake Hands? - Anson will reach out and flatten his right hand to shake hands. He prefers if he is told "it's very nice to meet you" in conjunction with this.
Where's Daddy? - Both kids will look at photos of Tim in the hallway if you pause and talk to them about him. This is both sweet and very sad to me, because I hate that they might think the pictures are called Daddy and not realize that he was a real man who loved them so much.
Bite - Ayla is loving trying all these new foods and will open for a bite. Anson, on the other hand, has not quite mastered the art of eating and really prefers not to have to eat real food. (I totally understood this when they were eating only cereal because that stuff is gross, but I have made them homemade foods of carrots, sweet potatoes, avocado and squash, all of which were pretty tasty!)
These kids are fortunate to have so many people in their lives who love them so much. I am fortunate to have people around me who realize that I need help sometimes. We are all making it through one day at a time.
Happy 4th
In Tempe, every cop works the 4th of July. That's just how it is. Nobody questions it, but many wish they didn't have to be there. For good reason, too. The rest of us are uncomfortable in the heat, but we aren't standing in direct sun for 10 hours wearing layers of dark clothing, a bullet proof vest and pounds upon pounds of equipment.
Last year, Tim didn't work the 4th. He wasn't feeling well, but we got to spend dinner with my family. We got to be home with Kai to make sure he was okay with the fireworks. One more "last" that we didn't know would be our last. Two years ago, I was able to be at Tempe Town Lake sitting right next to where Tim was posted, watching fireworks "together".
All day today, I thought about all Tim's friends working and how happy I was that it was beautiful and overcast for them. A little blessing on a day they would surely rather be at home with their own families than out there making sure the rest of us are safe.
I thought about how we looked forward to the kids getting bigger and me taking them to the Tempe fireworks in a wagon so we could sit near Tim and "ooh" and "aah" together. How we would have been able to talk about how pretty it was the next day over breakfast. How he would have talked to whomever he was working with that night about our family.
I never took Tim's goodness for granted, but I took life for granted. I assumed there would be another day, another year, another memory, another opportunity. Love your husband. Kiss your kids. Every day you are making memories and none of us know what the future holds. Make each day count. Don't complain.
Last year, Tim didn't work the 4th. He wasn't feeling well, but we got to spend dinner with my family. We got to be home with Kai to make sure he was okay with the fireworks. One more "last" that we didn't know would be our last. Two years ago, I was able to be at Tempe Town Lake sitting right next to where Tim was posted, watching fireworks "together".
All day today, I thought about all Tim's friends working and how happy I was that it was beautiful and overcast for them. A little blessing on a day they would surely rather be at home with their own families than out there making sure the rest of us are safe.
I thought about how we looked forward to the kids getting bigger and me taking them to the Tempe fireworks in a wagon so we could sit near Tim and "ooh" and "aah" together. How we would have been able to talk about how pretty it was the next day over breakfast. How he would have talked to whomever he was working with that night about our family.
I never took Tim's goodness for granted, but I took life for granted. I assumed there would be another day, another year, another memory, another opportunity. Love your husband. Kiss your kids. Every day you are making memories and none of us know what the future holds. Make each day count. Don't complain.
Who Your True Friends Are
"When times are tough, you find out who your true friends are." We have all heard that phrase. Often overused and sometimes told to us as children when we are have had a falling out with a friend.
A variation of this is brought up at nearly every meeting of my "Grief Group". People frequently mention that they are surprised about the people who have been there for them... and who has not. I understand this statement because I am walking that path.
I am not surprised about the close friends and family that have been here for me since Tim passed. I'm not "surprised", I am proud. Proud of them for being such a tremendous support and also proud of Tim & me for choosing such amazing friends to have in our lives. Something we had in common was intense loyalty - both of us have many friends we have had since childhood and early adulthood - we make our friendships a priority, and in return, when needed, our friends are there for us. Many of his friends have been there for me: a person they love only by association.
I remain (pleasantly) surprised when I get a call or an email from someone Tim worked with or knew casually just to check in and see how we are doing. It makes me happy to know that someone who wasn't super close to him would care enough and take the time to let me know that he is still on their mind. That they think about me and Brittany and the babies. That Tim has not faded from their memory.
Those he worked with closely (his "Squad") still invite me to parties and call and come to see the babies or meet me for lunch. They were his work family and I know that his absence leaves an empty place in the Department and in their hearts. They miss him, they grieve and they have constant reminders of him just like we all do.
I have fleeting memories of a conversation with one of Tim's friends - someone he knew his whole life. We were standing in our kitchen and I was crying. I told him I was afraid - one of the only times I have admitted that to anyone other than Tim. I shared with him that I was afraid of being alone. Not in the sense of not being married or being in the house by myself, but of being truly alone: when everyone else moves on with their lives and all of a sudden it's just me. Forever. He said something to the effect of, "The people who matter will still be here".
He was absolutely right. The people who care are still here. Even some who I was not close with before, I find myself closer to now. Apparently tragedy can sometimes help to grow friendships. And the others? Que sera, sera. I'm left with pleasant memories of when we were friends. And, yes, a vague feeling of disappointment that our friendship was not "true" enough to weather the "tough times". But I'm a big girl and I am fortunate to have the best people I could ask for in my life.
A variation of this is brought up at nearly every meeting of my "Grief Group". People frequently mention that they are surprised about the people who have been there for them... and who has not. I understand this statement because I am walking that path.
I am not surprised about the close friends and family that have been here for me since Tim passed. I'm not "surprised", I am proud. Proud of them for being such a tremendous support and also proud of Tim & me for choosing such amazing friends to have in our lives. Something we had in common was intense loyalty - both of us have many friends we have had since childhood and early adulthood - we make our friendships a priority, and in return, when needed, our friends are there for us. Many of his friends have been there for me: a person they love only by association.
I remain (pleasantly) surprised when I get a call or an email from someone Tim worked with or knew casually just to check in and see how we are doing. It makes me happy to know that someone who wasn't super close to him would care enough and take the time to let me know that he is still on their mind. That they think about me and Brittany and the babies. That Tim has not faded from their memory.
Those he worked with closely (his "Squad") still invite me to parties and call and come to see the babies or meet me for lunch. They were his work family and I know that his absence leaves an empty place in the Department and in their hearts. They miss him, they grieve and they have constant reminders of him just like we all do.
I have fleeting memories of a conversation with one of Tim's friends - someone he knew his whole life. We were standing in our kitchen and I was crying. I told him I was afraid - one of the only times I have admitted that to anyone other than Tim. I shared with him that I was afraid of being alone. Not in the sense of not being married or being in the house by myself, but of being truly alone: when everyone else moves on with their lives and all of a sudden it's just me. Forever. He said something to the effect of, "The people who matter will still be here".
He was absolutely right. The people who care are still here. Even some who I was not close with before, I find myself closer to now. Apparently tragedy can sometimes help to grow friendships. And the others? Que sera, sera. I'm left with pleasant memories of when we were friends. And, yes, a vague feeling of disappointment that our friendship was not "true" enough to weather the "tough times". But I'm a big girl and I am fortunate to have the best people I could ask for in my life.
5 Month Birthday
Wishing a happy 5 month birthday to my two amazing babies. For the last 10 months they have been my biggest support and the reason I wake up every morning to face the day. I wish more than anything that Tim were here with me to see the progress they are making and the little people they are becoming.
Ayla & Anson have had a lot of "milestones" in the last month.
Eating:
The kids started on cereal this month. We tried both rice cereal and baby oatmeal. Neither were a huge hit, and after tasting them both I think I can tell you why. Yuck! I am excited to get to start preparing them vegetables soon - then the food appreciation will begin.
Interaction:
Although Ayla has always been pretty interested in Anson, this month the love has become mutual. They will reach out to touch each other and roll to "play" together. When they see each other, their little faces light up and they even sit in their Bumbo chairs and "talk" to each other. This causes me to wonder about something I have heard of: Twinspeak, where twins develop their own language to communicate privately. I just hope they are saying nice things about their Mommy.
Laughing:
Both kids will get a kick out of certain words and cause them to giggle uncontrollably when I say them. For Ayla it has been "jeggings" and "flower". For Anson it was "Mama". They both have adorable laughs and when they get going you can't help but be laughing right along with them.
Talking:
Another surprise this month was that Anson decided to start saying "Mama". (It is usually more like "Ahmama".) With Ayla being more of a storyteller, I always thought she would utter a word before him, but Anson just had to prove me wrong. He says it pretty consistently now and has even learned that crying "Mama!" will get him attention quicker than a cry when he wakes up from a nap.
Swimming:
I took the kids to my parent's house for their first swim. At the suggestion of a friend, we tried out a special flotation device and both Anson & Ayla loved the water. Ayla liked how sparkly it was and was fascinated with looking at the ripples. Anson had a great time relaxing in his float and splashing. I want to get them to feel secure when I am with them in the water so that they will not be intimidated by swim lessons in the future. This is something very important to us living in Arizona where water is a pleasure and a danger that lurks in so many back yard pools.
Ayla & Anson have had a lot of "milestones" in the last month.
Eating:
The kids started on cereal this month. We tried both rice cereal and baby oatmeal. Neither were a huge hit, and after tasting them both I think I can tell you why. Yuck! I am excited to get to start preparing them vegetables soon - then the food appreciation will begin.
Interaction:
Although Ayla has always been pretty interested in Anson, this month the love has become mutual. They will reach out to touch each other and roll to "play" together. When they see each other, their little faces light up and they even sit in their Bumbo chairs and "talk" to each other. This causes me to wonder about something I have heard of: Twinspeak, where twins develop their own language to communicate privately. I just hope they are saying nice things about their Mommy.
Laughing:
Both kids will get a kick out of certain words and cause them to giggle uncontrollably when I say them. For Ayla it has been "jeggings" and "flower". For Anson it was "Mama". They both have adorable laughs and when they get going you can't help but be laughing right along with them.
Talking:
Another surprise this month was that Anson decided to start saying "Mama". (It is usually more like "Ahmama".) With Ayla being more of a storyteller, I always thought she would utter a word before him, but Anson just had to prove me wrong. He says it pretty consistently now and has even learned that crying "Mama!" will get him attention quicker than a cry when he wakes up from a nap.
Swimming:
I took the kids to my parent's house for their first swim. At the suggestion of a friend, we tried out a special flotation device and both Anson & Ayla loved the water. Ayla liked how sparkly it was and was fascinated with looking at the ripples. Anson had a great time relaxing in his float and splashing. I want to get them to feel secure when I am with them in the water so that they will not be intimidated by swim lessons in the future. This is something very important to us living in Arizona where water is a pleasure and a danger that lurks in so many back yard pools.
Desk Project
I have started to think about what will happen when I split the kids' rooms. Right now we have an office and a guest room. I knew I would have to forego one of these well-used rooms, and the idea of moving the computer and filing cabinet and the like into our master bedroom did not appeal to me in the least. I don't like electronics of any kind in there: no TV, no computer, no distractions. We had thought those days of blinking computer lights in the night were behind us when we moved from my tiny townhouse.
A little bit of reading Real Simple magazine (my guilty pleasure) and looking at Pinterest.com got the wheel in my mind turning. This was one of my many "Inspiration" photos:
I decided to move the guest room into what is now the office and convert the closet in that room into my office. The closet in there is nothing special - just your builder-grade sliding door closet.
We had many of the elements that I would be using on hand, but they would need a little face-lift. Thankfully my parents owned a hardware store when I was little, so I am pretty fearless about tackling little projects. I am also far too cheap to buy new things when I think I can re-use, re-finish or re-purpose what I already have. (This was one of Tim's favorite things about me.)
6 cans of spray paint, one gallon of turquoise paint and many busy nap times while the babies were sleeping later, I am pleased with the result.
I still need to paint the rest of the room and move the guest room in here. There will be white curtains on the windows and matching curtains that can be closed to hide the "office" from guests, but I feel a sense of satisfaction that I have gotten it this far.
The payoff is that Ayla & Anson will each have their own room when the time is right, and Ayla will even have a little walk-in closet - every girl's dream, right?
Every time I accomplish something, every time I do something Tim would be proud of me for, I can hear him saying, "That looks great, babe! You're awesome. I love you." It makes me feel a little more like myself again.
A little bit of reading Real Simple magazine (my guilty pleasure) and looking at Pinterest.com got the wheel in my mind turning. This was one of my many "Inspiration" photos:
I decided to move the guest room into what is now the office and convert the closet in that room into my office. The closet in there is nothing special - just your builder-grade sliding door closet.
We had many of the elements that I would be using on hand, but they would need a little face-lift. Thankfully my parents owned a hardware store when I was little, so I am pretty fearless about tackling little projects. I am also far too cheap to buy new things when I think I can re-use, re-finish or re-purpose what I already have. (This was one of Tim's favorite things about me.)
6 cans of spray paint, one gallon of turquoise paint and many busy nap times while the babies were sleeping later, I am pleased with the result.
I still need to paint the rest of the room and move the guest room in here. There will be white curtains on the windows and matching curtains that can be closed to hide the "office" from guests, but I feel a sense of satisfaction that I have gotten it this far.
The payoff is that Ayla & Anson will each have their own room when the time is right, and Ayla will even have a little walk-in closet - every girl's dream, right?
Every time I accomplish something, every time I do something Tim would be proud of me for, I can hear him saying, "That looks great, babe! You're awesome. I love you." It makes me feel a little more like myself again.
Kaiser Turns 2!
On
Saturday, Kaiser turned two marking a big milestone in his life and in our
lives. We celebrated with a (lately infrequent) trip to the dog park and then
to Petsmart for a new toy, some rawhide chews and the makings for a doggie
birthday cupcake.
Tim and
I researched breeds, first dreaming of a chocolate lab before settling on
the intelligence, protectiveness and appropriate energy of a
German Shepherd. Kaiser was one of a little of 5 puppies born to a mother known
only as Goldie - a blonde shepherd who was found wandering the desert of
Southern Arizona while pregnant. A lady who raises
Golden Retrievers took her in and cared for her and the pups until
they could be placed for adoption through the Southern Arizona German Shepherd
Rescue.
Our interview process was intense. Phone interviews, aerial photos of our home and our neighborhood, discussions on training and discipline, lists of the closest dog amenities sent via email.... We adopted Kai 2 weeks before we moved into our new house.
Kaiser is my first dog and little did we know at the time, the only shot Tim and I had at co-parenting. We took our responsibility very seriously and enrolled him in puppy classes and worked on manners, behavior and tricks with love and consistency.
Over
the last many months, Kai has become a big support for me and also my great
protector. He is the perfect blend of protective and gentle, always knowing
what is appropriate. He does not trust men that he doesn't know and is fiercely
loyal to his family. He believes that A&A are "his"
babies.
We
brought home blankets from the hospital to swaddle dolls so that he could learn
their smells and begin to adjust before they came home. Kaiser was quick to
fall in love when Ayla & Anson were born in January and now loves
nothing more than having "tummy time" with them. He is a wonderful
"fuzzy brother" and I am forever so proud of the dog he has become.
Planned Grief
I don't believe in planned grief. I have spent the last 8 1/2 months avoiding lists of the "grief stages" not because I am avoiding grief but because I want to feel things organically. I am a list maker - a checklist kind of girl. I never wanted to see my feelings as some sort of a checklist to get through, and I was afraid that if I saw a list of stages I would force myself through them and come out on the other side still as broken as I began.
Instead, I spent months not really dealing with my feelings because I was afraid I would harm our babies as they grew and developed inside me. Then I spent weeks adjusting to having 2 little humans in my care. People told me I was strong. Only a few knew who really weak and vulnerable I was actually feeling. Finally, after several melt-downs, I decided to seek out a grief group.
I am surprised how much talking to other people who have lost their spouses has helped me. Hearing their stories, often similar to ours, has helped me to see that I am not alone in what I am feeling. Talking about the things that play over and over in my mind has helped to send those visions, questions and fears to the back of my mind instead of having them ever-present and interrupting my daily thoughts. I expected to hate a group setting like that, but I was wrong.
There is still a shelf full of self-help books on our bookshelf that I may never crack open. I may never be able to hear certain songs without crying and I may never be able to hear a man walking fast in leather flip flops without my heart skipping a beat. I know there will never be a day when I am "over it" - I think one never forgets true love and one never forgets a loss so intense - but maybe I am learning to live with the sadness I feel. Maybe one day the sun will shine on me and I will laugh and actually feel happiness.
I don't feel happy right now. I still struggle with the day-to-day, but I can now imagine a time when I might enjoy life again.
Instead, I spent months not really dealing with my feelings because I was afraid I would harm our babies as they grew and developed inside me. Then I spent weeks adjusting to having 2 little humans in my care. People told me I was strong. Only a few knew who really weak and vulnerable I was actually feeling. Finally, after several melt-downs, I decided to seek out a grief group.
I am surprised how much talking to other people who have lost their spouses has helped me. Hearing their stories, often similar to ours, has helped me to see that I am not alone in what I am feeling. Talking about the things that play over and over in my mind has helped to send those visions, questions and fears to the back of my mind instead of having them ever-present and interrupting my daily thoughts. I expected to hate a group setting like that, but I was wrong.
There is still a shelf full of self-help books on our bookshelf that I may never crack open. I may never be able to hear certain songs without crying and I may never be able to hear a man walking fast in leather flip flops without my heart skipping a beat. I know there will never be a day when I am "over it" - I think one never forgets true love and one never forgets a loss so intense - but maybe I am learning to live with the sadness I feel. Maybe one day the sun will shine on me and I will laugh and actually feel happiness.
I don't feel happy right now. I still struggle with the day-to-day, but I can now imagine a time when I might enjoy life again.
Happy (Belated) 3 Months
This last month has been amazing and rewarding. Anson and Ayla are both babbling and telling me "stories" now. They each know their names and respond when I talk to them. No longer is it just me blindly caring for them - I am receiving appreciation in return.
We have had many exciting adventures. We drove to Camp Verde to visit Grandma & Papa and were also able to see Aunt Phyllis at the care home where she resides. We went to Flagstaff for the NAU Relay for Life which honored Tim and where I was grateful to be able to be the "Caregiver Speaker". Errands get easier as the kids are growing, but are time consuming due to all the people who love to look at them and chat with me about the joys of twins.
I am amazed at how masculine Anson is, and how feminine Ayla is, even at this young age. Their hands and feet are so different with his being thick and wide like Tim's and hers being longer and narrower like mine. Each has a distinctive voice and a unique little laugh. Anson consistently does Tim's chuckle while Ayla's laugh is a squeal of excitement.
We have had many exciting adventures. We drove to Camp Verde to visit Grandma & Papa and were also able to see Aunt Phyllis at the care home where she resides. We went to Flagstaff for the NAU Relay for Life which honored Tim and where I was grateful to be able to be the "Caregiver Speaker". Errands get easier as the kids are growing, but are time consuming due to all the people who love to look at them and chat with me about the joys of twins.
I am amazed at how masculine Anson is, and how feminine Ayla is, even at this young age. Their hands and feet are so different with his being thick and wide like Tim's and hers being longer and narrower like mine. Each has a distinctive voice and a unique little laugh. Anson consistently does Tim's chuckle while Ayla's laugh is a squeal of excitement.
Tim left me with the two things that are helping to heal my heart and every day with them is a blessing.
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About Me
- Autumn
- Learning to navigate the unpredictable waters of life as a new mom and a young widow.... still with the sweetest puppy imaginable.
