Today it seems that every area of my life needs attention and there aren't enough hours in the day let alone enough psychic energy to bring to the fore. It stems from buying a house and trickles down from there with things like printing/signing/faxing documents for loan papers, includes calling my landlord to repair the leak that exists in my laundry room since the heater was installed as well as doing umpteen loads of laundry before taking my adolescent-chew-anything-and-everything hound to the dog park before I make a rash adoption plan for him because I don't want him to ruin my new house. Then there's the social security administration that has complicated my life by not paying the kid's portion of benefits this month so that I have to spend hours on the phone with them rectifying the situation (not to mention the fact that I need to get this is in order pronto for my underwriters!).
Did I mention that my car is starting to smell bad and is a debris field from the last week of frenzied activity of rushing to school in the mornings and baseball practices in the afternoons? Oh, and Bennett missed two days of school last week with asthmatic bronchitis and then spent 3 hours in the ER last weekend so he could get 3 stitches in his head after hitting it on the bathtub. Juvenile antics, that's all I'm going to say. He asked me if Daddy would be proud of him for how brave he was getting his stitches and it pained me to tell him that Daddy wouldn't be too happy to be in the ER at 2 a.m. Sorry little buddy but the truth hurts sometimes. Oh, and that'll be $500 please. Thanks. : )
I detail all the above because I very easily get caught up in the crap of my life. There is more I could tell you that went on these last few weeks but I feel badly just reciting a litany of complaints. I know my life is hard because of my grief process and my new found singularity but I also know I must pray and fight against the tendency to focus on the negative. It is all soooooooooooooo easy to do.
So, let me tell you about some wonderful women God has placed in my life. Melanie is a teacher in my son's grade (4th) and she lives just down the street. God put a burden on her heart to ask me if I wanted to do a bible study with her and another mother, Elizabeth, she knew from a previous classroom who was also a widow. Melanie was bold and followed God's lead and I said yes! Melanie has an infectious charm and energy and for those of you in WA, reminds me of Sammie Simons! She has a smile and a hug for everyone and is positive and radiant and loves the Lord. She is a few years older than me and I immediately considered her a friend and mentor. She loves my children and her family is incredible!! We have met several times and although Satan tries to foil our plans we continue to find ways to get together although I still haven't met Elizabeth!!
Julie also meets with us and she has 3 wonderful kids who are unique and fit so well with my kids. "O2" is Julie's daughter Olivia and my Olivia's buddy from first grade. She and her sister Josie and "O1" love to play American Girls together and have all-girl parties complete with signs (No Boys Allowed)! Julie's son Max and Bennett are all-boy and play Little League together, ride BMX and shoot air soft guns when they are not playing on the Wii or Playstation. It's a lovefest all around. And Julie is real. She is honest and open and wanting more and is in continual pursuit of the Lord as well. She is spicy and sassy and fun! Did I mention that she and her husband own a fantastic sushi restaurant?
Jann also lives right up the street and has taken me under her wing in so many small ways. Every once in a while my phone will buzz with a text and it's Jann, checking in on me to see how my heart and my head are. She always checks on my migraines and my spirit and I love her for that. She knows how bad both can get and she never forgets me. She also has a real sweet spot for Olivia and has watched her for me several times, creating some beautiful fun crafts with her and treating her like a real special guest. Jann consistently prays for us and know's what it's like to raise strong-willed children. Her presence in the background is comforting and encouraging.
Lastly and not least, Trenna continues to be my stalwart bedrock. She was, she is and she will be there. My love for her grows more with each passing day. I wouldn't have made it through any of this without her confident grace and reassurance. God was a genius ~ knitting us together at the age of 6, for such a time as this!
So there you have it. Things can seem pretty bad circumstantially but it's the people around you that make the difference. I don't have Phil by my side but God has provided a cloud of powerful women to fill in the gaps and they are mighty indeed. I know I need to focus on what He has given me amidst all this trouble the world deals out. Because one thing I know for sure, this world will continue to deal out trouble. Grab your friends and give thanks to "God, who causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them." Romans 8:28
Showing posts with label survivorship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label survivorship. Show all posts
Friday, February 17, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Home is Where the Heart Is
I bought a house this week and it is beautiful! It's far nicer than anything Phil and I looked at when we briefly house hunted in July of 2010. At that time what we could afford were older homes that were very small or that needed a good deal of "sweat equity" as Phil liked to call it. Once he was diagnosed with lymphoma we quickly shelved our dream of buying a home and tried to protect our little nest egg as best we could, not knowing what was in store for us.
Now here we are, the kids and I, all these months later, on the cusp of moving into our new home, our "forever home" as Bennett puts it, all made possible by Phil's sacrifice and death. Kinda sad. Kinda crazy. But mostly, it's amazing and shows how provisional his love was. Even in death, he is taking care of us and he's made my "workplace" for raising our kids even more precious. We will be in a beautiful home that is convenient to everything, spacious and comfortable, perfect for entertaining and yet quiet and tranquil. There is even space for our beloved-behemoth-hound Zack and for the gardening to come. There is sunshine all around and I will never have to move if I don't want to. Ahhhh.
Thank you Phil! We will talk of you here and tell stories of your incredible life. We will rest here when the going gets tough. We will laugh and have fun here! By putting a roof over our heads and giving us a safe and secure place to rest our heads and our hearts you have given us a place to rebuild our lives and heal our broken hearts. We will move on confidently in life without you here with us because you have provided the means for us to do so. As we move into our new home we will be taking you with us, in our hearts and memories, forever. You have our love, always.
Now here we are, the kids and I, all these months later, on the cusp of moving into our new home, our "forever home" as Bennett puts it, all made possible by Phil's sacrifice and death. Kinda sad. Kinda crazy. But mostly, it's amazing and shows how provisional his love was. Even in death, he is taking care of us and he's made my "workplace" for raising our kids even more precious. We will be in a beautiful home that is convenient to everything, spacious and comfortable, perfect for entertaining and yet quiet and tranquil. There is even space for our beloved-behemoth-hound Zack and for the gardening to come. There is sunshine all around and I will never have to move if I don't want to. Ahhhh.
Thank you Phil! We will talk of you here and tell stories of your incredible life. We will rest here when the going gets tough. We will laugh and have fun here! By putting a roof over our heads and giving us a safe and secure place to rest our heads and our hearts you have given us a place to rebuild our lives and heal our broken hearts. We will move on confidently in life without you here with us because you have provided the means for us to do so. As we move into our new home we will be taking you with us, in our hearts and memories, forever. You have our love, always.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Thinking About You
"Do you think of Phil very often?" was the question my sister asked me as we were wrapping up our New Year's weekend together. It was with some difficulty that I struggled to answer. You'd think it would be a simple "yes" or "no" but instead I spent the next several minutes trying to put into words what my experience has been during the last six or seven weeks since he died. It was a challenging task because I am embarrassed to admit that I don't think of him as often as I think I "should".
I struggle to describe exactly what my grief has been like. Phil died in mid-November and before I knew it along came Thanksgiving, usually my favorite time of year. Then there was the rush of Christmas and the challenge to make it as special and joyful as possible for the kids. It all ended up a mixture of many stressful, surreal and thankfully, a few beautifully sublime moments. (So long 2011, don't let the door hit you in the butt on the way out).
Then just a day or so ago a friend sent me a link to an interview with Patrick Swayze's wife detailing her grief and the struggles she had taking care of him during his 22 months with pancreatic cancer. I read that she initially thought of Patrick every three or four minutes for the first few weeks. Holy crap! I can't even imagine what that was like. I so don't relate! At first blush I felt bad that I wasn't like that.
But something dawned on me and I felt immense relief at my insight and I took compassion on myself for not having dwelled on Phil these last weeks. You see, from the moment Phil received his diagnosis I'd done nothing but think of him. My life's dreams and passions ceased to move forward and all hands were on deck for the fight for Phil's life. So began my journey with balancing the battle with cancer, motherhood and maintaining my sanity ~ all of which I kept spinning like plates in a carnival side show. So now, to step back emotionally and not think of Phil all the time, let alone every three or four minutes, is a respite I have needed for a long time. To give myself permission to not feel guilty about it has been liberating. And it's not the first time I've had to give myself this kind of permission...sheesh.
In point of fact, what has happened is a transposition of sorts. Now I think of my children most of the time. I think of their grief and the anger they are exhibiting and of how I can parent them better especially now that I am alone (though not). I constantly think about their future and of all the things I now need to provide for them in accordance with the collective vision Phil and I had together to shape their budding characters and to fill their thirsty souls. And I reflect often on the difference between what they actually lost when Phil died and what I am unwilling to see them let go of along with that loss (their innocence, integrity, tenderness, compassion, faith). In recognizing the immense responsibility and privilege that is mine to raise these kiddos, I accordingly give myself permission to ask for help, pray, and cry as needed.
I often think of Phil in response to the overwhelming responsibility I feel to continue parenting these remarkable children "in the way they should go so that they will not stray from it". I miss him every day and am only just beginning to understand my grief and the grief of my children. None of us have the same response to his death and since each of them are rapidly growing and changing, I have to be on my toes all the time. If I were to think of Phil every three or four minutes I could not do what I have to do to get on with the business of living ~ and leading all of us on in that. And I find that for me personally, what I read recently rings true~
"People cry not because they are weak but because they have been strong for so long".
I struggle to describe exactly what my grief has been like. Phil died in mid-November and before I knew it along came Thanksgiving, usually my favorite time of year. Then there was the rush of Christmas and the challenge to make it as special and joyful as possible for the kids. It all ended up a mixture of many stressful, surreal and thankfully, a few beautifully sublime moments. (So long 2011, don't let the door hit you in the butt on the way out).
Then just a day or so ago a friend sent me a link to an interview with Patrick Swayze's wife detailing her grief and the struggles she had taking care of him during his 22 months with pancreatic cancer. I read that she initially thought of Patrick every three or four minutes for the first few weeks. Holy crap! I can't even imagine what that was like. I so don't relate! At first blush I felt bad that I wasn't like that.
But something dawned on me and I felt immense relief at my insight and I took compassion on myself for not having dwelled on Phil these last weeks. You see, from the moment Phil received his diagnosis I'd done nothing but think of him. My life's dreams and passions ceased to move forward and all hands were on deck for the fight for Phil's life. So began my journey with balancing the battle with cancer, motherhood and maintaining my sanity ~ all of which I kept spinning like plates in a carnival side show. So now, to step back emotionally and not think of Phil all the time, let alone every three or four minutes, is a respite I have needed for a long time. To give myself permission to not feel guilty about it has been liberating. And it's not the first time I've had to give myself this kind of permission...sheesh.
In point of fact, what has happened is a transposition of sorts. Now I think of my children most of the time. I think of their grief and the anger they are exhibiting and of how I can parent them better especially now that I am alone (though not). I constantly think about their future and of all the things I now need to provide for them in accordance with the collective vision Phil and I had together to shape their budding characters and to fill their thirsty souls. And I reflect often on the difference between what they actually lost when Phil died and what I am unwilling to see them let go of along with that loss (their innocence, integrity, tenderness, compassion, faith). In recognizing the immense responsibility and privilege that is mine to raise these kiddos, I accordingly give myself permission to ask for help, pray, and cry as needed.
I often think of Phil in response to the overwhelming responsibility I feel to continue parenting these remarkable children "in the way they should go so that they will not stray from it". I miss him every day and am only just beginning to understand my grief and the grief of my children. None of us have the same response to his death and since each of them are rapidly growing and changing, I have to be on my toes all the time. If I were to think of Phil every three or four minutes I could not do what I have to do to get on with the business of living ~ and leading all of us on in that. And I find that for me personally, what I read recently rings true~
"People cry not because they are weak but because they have been strong for so long".
Monday, December 26, 2011
Looking Ahead
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.
~ Mary Oliver ~
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.
~ Mary Oliver ~
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Now What
It's been two weeks since Phil died and I am only beginning to have time to "be" with my feelings. As I said before, prior to Phil going into hospice care my house served as Ground Zero and I have had friends and family in my home until just a few days ago. Include the visits from wonderful and supportive friends and family who flew and drove in for the memorial, the Thanksgiving holiday and the numerous details I must now attend to and you may begin to understand the position I find myself in trying to find time and space to grieve. Unexpectedly, even my children are cramping my space to grieve. Their grief looks so much different than mine and tends to manifest itself in the form of irritability and what I like to call "feistiness". When I say that to them, we all know what I mean and they know they better knock it off or heads are gonna roll (or Nintendo DS's are gonna be confiscated, more likely).
By way of example,things with the kids and I have gone something like this lately. It's been a long day for all of us, we're tired and worn out from just making it through another day without Daddy (even though I'm the only one cognizant of this little FACT) and patience with one another and the vicissitudes of life has thinned to almost nothing. (You might guess by now that it is nearing the dinner hour.) Chances are good that there may be a somewhat questionable casserole-type dish in the offering tonight, provided by a very well meaning soul who has tried hard to help us with our meals. However, at this point, although very grateful, we are also very much over white rice, cream of mushroom soup and limp vegetables. These have never been things I could get my kids to eat anyway so they don't go down any easier when they are grieving. (Father God, forgive me for throwing away so much food when there are starving children in Africa...) Anyway, the kids start picking at dinner, get more and more hungry and agitated, ask for short order cooked meals, start taking out their frustrations on me, each other, the world and next thing you know they are screaming at each other "I HATE YOU AND NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!" That's gonna be a tough one since they share a bedroom and bunk beds.
By this time I am missing Phil a whole lot and my grief has picked a fine time to show up. As the tears come to my eyes my son Bennett looks at me and tells me I cry too much. He asks me why I am sad still, why I am sad all the time. What's wrong with me? When I ask him if he is sad he says, "No, I'm pretty much over Dad now. I put it behind me." Well, thankfully I have a right mind and can see through his juvenile attempts to escape his grief but for a split second I want to wring his neck and shake some sense into him, scream back at him "I HATE YOU AND NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN! HOW DARE YOU!!!" But somehow, through the grace of God, cooler minds prevail and I say, "OK bud." By now Olivia has stormed off to her room to have a power pout and a good cry. She at least will now go write down about 15 pet names for Daddy in her journal and make a list of all the things Phil did/didn't get to do before he died. My kids surprise me, they are not performing as I thought they would. I thought for sure my son, the intensely verbal one would talk his way through his grief and Olivia my shy one would clam up. Just the opposite. Never ASS-ume.
To say that I was happy that school started yesterday is to put it mildly. I needed to return to the routine badly. We all did. At least to have some forced time and space created so I can just sit still and do nothing if I want to. Of course that hasn't happened but at least the potential is there if I ever want to pull the trigger on it. I can choose to be lazy if I want to. To go back to bed if I feel like it. To do absolutely nothing. But surely you must realize that is a joke. I suppose there will be a very short window for doing that but I happen to have a little book full of things I need to do. Once the death certificates come I will be a busy woman getting my new life in order. Until then, I will enjoy this little cushion of time being quiet and resting and enjoying the quiet while my kids are at school and there is space just for me.
I heard that someone recently was asking "What now?" about me. Really?? I can't believe the answer to that question isn't painfully obvious. I have two young children to guide through a tremendous burden of grief and loss. I have to figure out how to navigate my own grief which is so different than theirs and will likely do so in a sort of lonely isolation because of how different my relationship to Phil was from theirs. And I will spend the rest of my life raising them to take as much good from him as I can, largely on my own and yet with the help of my family and friends and those who loved Phil.
That's is what's next.
By way of example,things with the kids and I have gone something like this lately. It's been a long day for all of us, we're tired and worn out from just making it through another day without Daddy (even though I'm the only one cognizant of this little FACT) and patience with one another and the vicissitudes of life has thinned to almost nothing. (You might guess by now that it is nearing the dinner hour.) Chances are good that there may be a somewhat questionable casserole-type dish in the offering tonight, provided by a very well meaning soul who has tried hard to help us with our meals. However, at this point, although very grateful, we are also very much over white rice, cream of mushroom soup and limp vegetables. These have never been things I could get my kids to eat anyway so they don't go down any easier when they are grieving. (Father God, forgive me for throwing away so much food when there are starving children in Africa...) Anyway, the kids start picking at dinner, get more and more hungry and agitated, ask for short order cooked meals, start taking out their frustrations on me, each other, the world and next thing you know they are screaming at each other "I HATE YOU AND NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!" That's gonna be a tough one since they share a bedroom and bunk beds.
By this time I am missing Phil a whole lot and my grief has picked a fine time to show up. As the tears come to my eyes my son Bennett looks at me and tells me I cry too much. He asks me why I am sad still, why I am sad all the time. What's wrong with me? When I ask him if he is sad he says, "No, I'm pretty much over Dad now. I put it behind me." Well, thankfully I have a right mind and can see through his juvenile attempts to escape his grief but for a split second I want to wring his neck and shake some sense into him, scream back at him "I HATE YOU AND NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN! HOW DARE YOU!!!" But somehow, through the grace of God, cooler minds prevail and I say, "OK bud." By now Olivia has stormed off to her room to have a power pout and a good cry. She at least will now go write down about 15 pet names for Daddy in her journal and make a list of all the things Phil did/didn't get to do before he died. My kids surprise me, they are not performing as I thought they would. I thought for sure my son, the intensely verbal one would talk his way through his grief and Olivia my shy one would clam up. Just the opposite. Never ASS-ume.
To say that I was happy that school started yesterday is to put it mildly. I needed to return to the routine badly. We all did. At least to have some forced time and space created so I can just sit still and do nothing if I want to. Of course that hasn't happened but at least the potential is there if I ever want to pull the trigger on it. I can choose to be lazy if I want to. To go back to bed if I feel like it. To do absolutely nothing. But surely you must realize that is a joke. I suppose there will be a very short window for doing that but I happen to have a little book full of things I need to do. Once the death certificates come I will be a busy woman getting my new life in order. Until then, I will enjoy this little cushion of time being quiet and resting and enjoying the quiet while my kids are at school and there is space just for me.
I heard that someone recently was asking "What now?" about me. Really?? I can't believe the answer to that question isn't painfully obvious. I have two young children to guide through a tremendous burden of grief and loss. I have to figure out how to navigate my own grief which is so different than theirs and will likely do so in a sort of lonely isolation because of how different my relationship to Phil was from theirs. And I will spend the rest of my life raising them to take as much good from him as I can, largely on my own and yet with the help of my family and friends and those who loved Phil.
That's is what's next.
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