Scene: Driving 20 miles per hour in the pouring rain on I-5 headed North. Next to our Highlander is a truck hauling....a single casket.
As I merged onto the freeway Maya had requested "Daddy's Song." At bedtime this request refers to Three Little Birds. During the day? This request is for Reach For the Sky. Both of my kids love this Social D song.
As the song ended Maya said "Mommy? Why did daddy get up that morning and die? Why did he fall in the bath tub and die? Did he hit his head?"
Looking at her in the rear view mirror, I repeated what has become my answer, "Maya, daddy didn't die because he fell. Daddy's body wasn't working right and nobody knew."
She looked briefly at the truck with the casket and said, "Did his face turn blue?"
I hesitated and blatantly lied. "No Maya, his face was not blue. Daddy's body stopped working."
Maya sighed and looked back out into the rain at the truck carrying the casket and told me how much she misses her daddy.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Last night I read two separate entries addressed to Chris...both brought tears to my eyes and made me angry. I wasn't angry because he is gone and I miss him. I was angry because both of those people can and have felt Chris. I feel like his presence is absent still and that horrifies me.
Chris' laughter and energy filled our house. Now the empty spaces are are difficult to avoid.
The depressing aspect right now is that I am not overwhelmed by Chris' death. Instead I am longing to be a normal person.
Right now, I'm exhausted and want to remember what it was like living among the non-widowed.
Chris' laughter and energy filled our house. Now the empty spaces are are difficult to avoid.
The depressing aspect right now is that I am not overwhelmed by Chris' death. Instead I am longing to be a normal person.
Right now, I'm exhausted and want to remember what it was like living among the non-widowed.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
searing loneliness
I will not be nominated for mother of the year, of that I am fairly certain. Some days, like today, I listen to my responses to my kids and think "Really?!?!" The parent I long to be and the one I currently am have very little in common. The parent I was before 'this' and the parent I am now also seem to lack similarities.
Last week on my run through Target I stopped momentarily to check my list at the end of the car seat aisle. I overheard a very heated discussion, or berating, from a woman. She said "Push the seat in. You are not helping me. Push. Do you realize standing there chewing your gum does me no good. What do you think you're doing?" I looked up to see a very tired mom talking to a maybe 2nd grade boy. In my quick analysis I saw she was wedding ring-less and had the look I see in the mirror each day. Who knows what her real situation is but I wanted to walk over and give her a hug. I wanted to tell her, I know, it sucks, it's hard, we are tired. Instead, when she made eye contact with me and I offered up a weak smile which she shrugged off probably thinking I was judging her previous conversation, not realizing I was instead connecting to that moment she was having.
At one point early in my relationship with Chris he began working nights for a month long stint. He had not worked night shifts consistently at all in the previous year of our relationship. Suddenly, I was a little excited to have the apartment to myself, to watch what I wanted, to lay on the couch and take a nap when I felt like it and just be lazy a bit. That lasted about three nights before the loneliness set in.
Because my parents were able to stay with us much of the first 5 weeks following Chris' death it took longer for it to set in. Instead I moved through anxiety and panic as I got used to my house again sans Chris. The first night here alone I was excited to reclaim my space again. I sat on the couch, surfed the Internet, watched TV, read a book....it felt slightly freeing. Unfortunately, a few nights into it I felt it. The searing loneliness. I know, so many of you reading are saying "Call me Sabrina, it's OK." If I could, I would. In the end, what am I going to say? I feel a lot of shame in calling someone to basically save me from myself. Really it's not that I am longing for some deep conversation, I truly just want a warm body here. I wouldn't ask 'you' to leave your home, your kids, your spouse to come sit in front of the television with me because I truly feel like you should all soak up every minute you have with them. I found those hours with Chris invaluable.
Chris and I had several shows we watched together. After we tag teamed bedtime routines and settled in we would watch a show, debate politics, discuss current events, laugh at Facebook, check out my blog, make plans for the next day, make a 'goody' run, pull the house back together, brainstorm ideas for vacations...we just talked. I miss having another human being who is as invested in my life as I am. I miss having real conversations with real people during those hours before bed.
Tonight the kids were both asleep in bed by 8:10 p.m. I washed some dishes, watched a few minutes of Sister Wives, folded the last load of laundry, and wondered how weird it would be to talk aloud to my dog. People do that, right? I mean, I say things to my dog and cat but I don't carry on one sided conversations. Then I realized, it's not really a substitute for a legitimate person. Even my dog is not as invested in this family as I am.
So, where does that leave me? The past three nights the searing loneliness has been painful. I feel it in my chest. As soon as I shut Maya's door and begin my descent to the living room I notice the heaviness set in. It's a heaviness I have felt only two times in my life. The first was the first three nights after we brought Owen home. Things were going great but all three nights I woke up having a panic attack and had to wake Chris up. He came downstairs with me and held me til things calmed. The second time was the night after Chris died. I slept very little. After a very short nap I woke up feeling like I needed to escape my house. My mom went for a 4 a.m. walk with me around the neighborhood. Tonight, the heaviness isn't out of control like those previously mentioned nights. It's present but I am prepared for it and find ways to calm and distract my mind and body.
In the end, it's one more thing to get used to.
Last week on my run through Target I stopped momentarily to check my list at the end of the car seat aisle. I overheard a very heated discussion, or berating, from a woman. She said "Push the seat in. You are not helping me. Push. Do you realize standing there chewing your gum does me no good. What do you think you're doing?" I looked up to see a very tired mom talking to a maybe 2nd grade boy. In my quick analysis I saw she was wedding ring-less and had the look I see in the mirror each day. Who knows what her real situation is but I wanted to walk over and give her a hug. I wanted to tell her, I know, it sucks, it's hard, we are tired. Instead, when she made eye contact with me and I offered up a weak smile which she shrugged off probably thinking I was judging her previous conversation, not realizing I was instead connecting to that moment she was having.
At one point early in my relationship with Chris he began working nights for a month long stint. He had not worked night shifts consistently at all in the previous year of our relationship. Suddenly, I was a little excited to have the apartment to myself, to watch what I wanted, to lay on the couch and take a nap when I felt like it and just be lazy a bit. That lasted about three nights before the loneliness set in.
Because my parents were able to stay with us much of the first 5 weeks following Chris' death it took longer for it to set in. Instead I moved through anxiety and panic as I got used to my house again sans Chris. The first night here alone I was excited to reclaim my space again. I sat on the couch, surfed the Internet, watched TV, read a book....it felt slightly freeing. Unfortunately, a few nights into it I felt it. The searing loneliness. I know, so many of you reading are saying "Call me Sabrina, it's OK." If I could, I would. In the end, what am I going to say? I feel a lot of shame in calling someone to basically save me from myself. Really it's not that I am longing for some deep conversation, I truly just want a warm body here. I wouldn't ask 'you' to leave your home, your kids, your spouse to come sit in front of the television with me because I truly feel like you should all soak up every minute you have with them. I found those hours with Chris invaluable.
Chris and I had several shows we watched together. After we tag teamed bedtime routines and settled in we would watch a show, debate politics, discuss current events, laugh at Facebook, check out my blog, make plans for the next day, make a 'goody' run, pull the house back together, brainstorm ideas for vacations...we just talked. I miss having another human being who is as invested in my life as I am. I miss having real conversations with real people during those hours before bed.
Tonight the kids were both asleep in bed by 8:10 p.m. I washed some dishes, watched a few minutes of Sister Wives, folded the last load of laundry, and wondered how weird it would be to talk aloud to my dog. People do that, right? I mean, I say things to my dog and cat but I don't carry on one sided conversations. Then I realized, it's not really a substitute for a legitimate person. Even my dog is not as invested in this family as I am.
So, where does that leave me? The past three nights the searing loneliness has been painful. I feel it in my chest. As soon as I shut Maya's door and begin my descent to the living room I notice the heaviness set in. It's a heaviness I have felt only two times in my life. The first was the first three nights after we brought Owen home. Things were going great but all three nights I woke up having a panic attack and had to wake Chris up. He came downstairs with me and held me til things calmed. The second time was the night after Chris died. I slept very little. After a very short nap I woke up feeling like I needed to escape my house. My mom went for a 4 a.m. walk with me around the neighborhood. Tonight, the heaviness isn't out of control like those previously mentioned nights. It's present but I am prepared for it and find ways to calm and distract my mind and body.
In the end, it's one more thing to get used to.
Spring Cleaning
I want to call it spring cleaning...but really it is just a series of chores. My clock says 5:25 p.m., dinner is cooking and I am ready for the kids to go to bed but that is 2.5 hours away, not that I'm counting.
By 9:30 a.m. we were at the grocery store. By 11:30 a.m. 'we' were detailing the car. By 1:30 p.m. Owen was down for a nap and I had completed my 4th load of laundry. By 4:45 p.m. I had had a random visit from an officer here the day of Chris' death, Owen was up, I had vacuumed the entire house, I had cleaned my bathroom and the laundry room and had cleaned out the car seats and reinstalled them. I won't even try to estimate how many times I said "Just wait a minute, please" today because that will just make me crazy guilty.
Too bad I also wanted to scrub the kitchen down, wash both cars, scrub out the fridge, do P90X and stop by to meet our new neighbors. Oh, did I mention shower??? Alas, I am waving my white flag for the day.
Yesterday, I was reminded that being an only parent can be very lonely. Today, I was reminded how physically exhausting it is. I want to say it will be easier when my kids are older, but like everything I believe that there is little truth to that. It's always something, right?
By 9:30 a.m. we were at the grocery store. By 11:30 a.m. 'we' were detailing the car. By 1:30 p.m. Owen was down for a nap and I had completed my 4th load of laundry. By 4:45 p.m. I had had a random visit from an officer here the day of Chris' death, Owen was up, I had vacuumed the entire house, I had cleaned my bathroom and the laundry room and had cleaned out the car seats and reinstalled them. I won't even try to estimate how many times I said "Just wait a minute, please" today because that will just make me crazy guilty.
Too bad I also wanted to scrub the kitchen down, wash both cars, scrub out the fridge, do P90X and stop by to meet our new neighbors. Oh, did I mention shower??? Alas, I am waving my white flag for the day.
Yesterday, I was reminded that being an only parent can be very lonely. Today, I was reminded how physically exhausting it is. I want to say it will be easier when my kids are older, but like everything I believe that there is little truth to that. It's always something, right?
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
To You
*Admittedly, I began writing this post before the 4 month anniversary and for some reason on the actual day, yesterday, I couldn't get myself to log on and finish it. *
Christopher,
One hundred and twenty days; can you believe it? In the moment I realized that you have been gone for 1/3 of a year I thought about how much can happen in that time and all of the things I have thought of telling you as well as the moments in which I realize that we will never be given that time to share our childrens accomplishments as well as their sorrows. Those are now moments I am running solo with or sharing with our close family and friends.
Two weeks sgo Maya told me on both preschool mornings that she didn't want to go; she wanted to stay home with me and Owen. As I pulled out of the preschool parking lot on Thursday I thought about telling you that once again she claimed to not want to go but jumped right in as soon as we arrived. Do you remember that day before you died, telling her you were going to go to work after you dropped her off so she wouldn't be sad? I teased you about lying to her but you couldn't bare telling her the truth...that you were going home to be with me and Owen. After your death, when Maya returned to preschool, three separate people told me how thrilled she was to have you there. That was the only time you had ever gone to the preschool; you were nervous you would do the routine wrong and made me tell it to you at least a half dozen times which made me silently laugh.
I want to tell you about all the words Owen has learned. He has 33 words ( and 11 signs) that I have noticed, I just wish he would used more of them consistently instead of heading straight into the whining. He has also started hitting me occasionally when he gets frustrated with me. I'm thinking about starting time out for that one...I just wish I had you to talk to about it. I remember how hard tantrums and time outs with Maya were on you. I think it broke your heart as much as hers. Owen is smart Chris. He's smart and uses it to get into mischief as well as to learn all sorts of things. I am shocked at him using my mom's smartphone, the remote, my cell phone, the remote control, Maya's DS. If he watches you use an electronic he quickly picks up how to turn it on and use it. You would laugh that Maya calls him a pickle when he does things he isn't supposed to. The other morning I heard him awake at 6:30 a.m. and listened to him talk to himself until the talk turned to "Mama......mama... .mamamamamamamama!" On the weekends we used to lay in bed listening to Maya talk and sing to herself when she first woke up. I remember how much it made you smile. I wish you were here to listen to Owen's morning babble. You would also laugh at all the food I have cleaned up because of this little man. I have found him with a whole box of Rice Krispies as well as a living room filled with Chex.
You would be amazed at all the letters and sounds Maya knows. She is awesome at determining what letter a word starts with based on the sound. She can recognize numbers 1-10 and tells very detailed, silly stories. Her writing has come so far and she easily writes her name at a reasonable size on all her papers at school. She has also started lying...fibbing...not disclosing information. I know it's an age thing but I want to talk to you about it...what should I do? How should I react? All in all, she really truly wants to be my helper; She puts her and Owen's clothes away when we do laundry and she likes to wash windows. Her first day of soccer was bitter sweet. We always thought she would be natural, and guess what, she was. On her first day she figured out how to dribble the ball (not just kick and run) as well as how to do a beginning foot trap. My smile was beaming and I know yours was too. I just wished I could have seen it.
My life seems unrecognizable. I am baffled by how different my life today is compared to my life four months ago. We rarely left the kids overnight because we liked doing things as a family, it was just our way. Now the kids stay with my parents about once every week. I'm not convinced you would like it but I know you understand. They stay there and I hang out with adults. Basically I condense all those hours we spent in the evenings talking and do things into one night of hanging out with adults. You know the funny thing? It's usually with people you knew about but whom you did not know personally. It's definitely a bit of an escape..there is no pressure to talk about you and there is no need to think about who is feeling sad about your absence at that moment. For that, I feel guilty. I don't feel guilty that I need to be an adult because by the time 6 days has passed, I am craving some kid free time. I feel guilty because I am not sure you would like for me to do this.
Tonight I watched the Huskies beat Georgia in a game that was much closer than I wanted it to be. Until Wednesday night I thought I would just ignore March Madness as I had ignored college basketball this season. I had done so since the day I realized you had penciled in the information for buying single game Husky basketball tickets on our calendar. You loved the tournament and would have taken today off to watch the games. By the way, I entered the Wingdome tournament because I knew you would have. Hopefully, I picked your winning team right!
I am in perpetual motion. If I take the time to sit and relax for a few minutes, I am making a list of chores to do or paying bills online. The only time I am not physically or mentally in motion, trying to keep our life headed in the right direction, is when I am sleeping. That's another thing. I don't sleep well. My fear was that I would be too afraid to sleep like I was when you worked nights. That is so far from the reality. If I go to sleep before midnight or 1 a.m., I am awake at 2 or 3 a.m. and end up watching a movie, checking my email, watching garbage on tv. I am pretty sure I average about 4 or 5 hours of sleep a night unlike the 8 I used to sleep. Who knew I could subsist on so little sleep?
Tonight Lora asked me about something I won't divulge on my blog, but it would have made you laugh because it was a Lora question and it was one of those things I love about her. She puts everything out there to talk about which I really need. I am libel to just ignore those subjects. It was something that is deeply impacting me right now because of the absence in my crazy life yet I hadn't said anything to anyone about it. It is something that has surprised me I suppose.
I miss you not just as my husband, my partner, my companion but as my friend. You were the person who knew the secrets and could read my thoughts at a glance. Now my life is filled with explanations about my emotions, my stress level, my future happiness possibility as well as continual explanations of my marital status. I am coming to realize that this will always be my reality; never will I stop meeting people who don't know. Last night at the Verizon store was proof of that...telling the manager about your death in my explanation about my convoluted account status. So many things about my life now require explanation of my widow status. And, you know what? I am feeling less like a widow and I can't figure out why.
In 40 days it will be our 'would be' 6th anniversary. My friends have agreed to go out with me that night to... the casino. You would have loved that! You also would love that I have learned to play 4 Card Poker. And...I bought myself an 'un-anniversary' present. Chris, I will love you always, always, always and in those quiet moments I will remember you and, someday, simply smile because of what was as well as because of the two precious gifts I have the opportunity to care for in this life. We did good...I am proud of us.
Always,
Sabrina
Christopher,
One hundred and twenty days; can you believe it? In the moment I realized that you have been gone for 1/3 of a year I thought about how much can happen in that time and all of the things I have thought of telling you as well as the moments in which I realize that we will never be given that time to share our childrens accomplishments as well as their sorrows. Those are now moments I am running solo with or sharing with our close family and friends.
Two weeks sgo Maya told me on both preschool mornings that she didn't want to go; she wanted to stay home with me and Owen. As I pulled out of the preschool parking lot on Thursday I thought about telling you that once again she claimed to not want to go but jumped right in as soon as we arrived. Do you remember that day before you died, telling her you were going to go to work after you dropped her off so she wouldn't be sad? I teased you about lying to her but you couldn't bare telling her the truth...that you were going home to be with me and Owen. After your death, when Maya returned to preschool, three separate people told me how thrilled she was to have you there. That was the only time you had ever gone to the preschool; you were nervous you would do the routine wrong and made me tell it to you at least a half dozen times which made me silently laugh.
I want to tell you about all the words Owen has learned. He has 33 words ( and 11 signs) that I have noticed, I just wish he would used more of them consistently instead of heading straight into the whining. He has also started hitting me occasionally when he gets frustrated with me. I'm thinking about starting time out for that one...I just wish I had you to talk to about it. I remember how hard tantrums and time outs with Maya were on you. I think it broke your heart as much as hers. Owen is smart Chris. He's smart and uses it to get into mischief as well as to learn all sorts of things. I am shocked at him using my mom's smartphone, the remote, my cell phone, the remote control, Maya's DS. If he watches you use an electronic he quickly picks up how to turn it on and use it. You would laugh that Maya calls him a pickle when he does things he isn't supposed to. The other morning I heard him awake at 6:30 a.m. and listened to him talk to himself until the talk turned to "Mama......mama... .mamamamamamamama!" On the weekends we used to lay in bed listening to Maya talk and sing to herself when she first woke up. I remember how much it made you smile. I wish you were here to listen to Owen's morning babble. You would also laugh at all the food I have cleaned up because of this little man. I have found him with a whole box of Rice Krispies as well as a living room filled with Chex.
You would be amazed at all the letters and sounds Maya knows. She is awesome at determining what letter a word starts with based on the sound. She can recognize numbers 1-10 and tells very detailed, silly stories. Her writing has come so far and she easily writes her name at a reasonable size on all her papers at school. She has also started lying...fibbing...not disclosing information. I know it's an age thing but I want to talk to you about it...what should I do? How should I react? All in all, she really truly wants to be my helper; She puts her and Owen's clothes away when we do laundry and she likes to wash windows. Her first day of soccer was bitter sweet. We always thought she would be natural, and guess what, she was. On her first day she figured out how to dribble the ball (not just kick and run) as well as how to do a beginning foot trap. My smile was beaming and I know yours was too. I just wished I could have seen it.
My life seems unrecognizable. I am baffled by how different my life today is compared to my life four months ago. We rarely left the kids overnight because we liked doing things as a family, it was just our way. Now the kids stay with my parents about once every week. I'm not convinced you would like it but I know you understand. They stay there and I hang out with adults. Basically I condense all those hours we spent in the evenings talking and do things into one night of hanging out with adults. You know the funny thing? It's usually with people you knew about but whom you did not know personally. It's definitely a bit of an escape..there is no pressure to talk about you and there is no need to think about who is feeling sad about your absence at that moment. For that, I feel guilty. I don't feel guilty that I need to be an adult because by the time 6 days has passed, I am craving some kid free time. I feel guilty because I am not sure you would like for me to do this.
Tonight I watched the Huskies beat Georgia in a game that was much closer than I wanted it to be. Until Wednesday night I thought I would just ignore March Madness as I had ignored college basketball this season. I had done so since the day I realized you had penciled in the information for buying single game Husky basketball tickets on our calendar. You loved the tournament and would have taken today off to watch the games. By the way, I entered the Wingdome tournament because I knew you would have. Hopefully, I picked your winning team right!
I am in perpetual motion. If I take the time to sit and relax for a few minutes, I am making a list of chores to do or paying bills online. The only time I am not physically or mentally in motion, trying to keep our life headed in the right direction, is when I am sleeping. That's another thing. I don't sleep well. My fear was that I would be too afraid to sleep like I was when you worked nights. That is so far from the reality. If I go to sleep before midnight or 1 a.m., I am awake at 2 or 3 a.m. and end up watching a movie, checking my email, watching garbage on tv. I am pretty sure I average about 4 or 5 hours of sleep a night unlike the 8 I used to sleep. Who knew I could subsist on so little sleep?
Tonight Lora asked me about something I won't divulge on my blog, but it would have made you laugh because it was a Lora question and it was one of those things I love about her. She puts everything out there to talk about which I really need. I am libel to just ignore those subjects. It was something that is deeply impacting me right now because of the absence in my crazy life yet I hadn't said anything to anyone about it. It is something that has surprised me I suppose.
I miss you not just as my husband, my partner, my companion but as my friend. You were the person who knew the secrets and could read my thoughts at a glance. Now my life is filled with explanations about my emotions, my stress level, my future happiness possibility as well as continual explanations of my marital status. I am coming to realize that this will always be my reality; never will I stop meeting people who don't know. Last night at the Verizon store was proof of that...telling the manager about your death in my explanation about my convoluted account status. So many things about my life now require explanation of my widow status. And, you know what? I am feeling less like a widow and I can't figure out why.
In 40 days it will be our 'would be' 6th anniversary. My friends have agreed to go out with me that night to... the casino. You would have loved that! You also would love that I have learned to play 4 Card Poker. And...I bought myself an 'un-anniversary' present. Chris, I will love you always, always, always and in those quiet moments I will remember you and, someday, simply smile because of what was as well as because of the two precious gifts I have the opportunity to care for in this life. We did good...I am proud of us.
Always,
Sabrina
Monday, March 14, 2011
Insomnia
Perhaps my body was sabotaged by the coffee I drank at 5 p.m. combined with the 'spring ahead' on the clock today, but it is 3:30a.m. and I am watching Save the Last Dance...yeah, I own it.
This movie reminds me of life before the life I lost...
After my first year of teaching I went to New York and Julia Stiles was in a Shakespeare production in Central Park. Miss the connection? She's in Save the Last Dance.
In this movie there is a scene where 'Sarah's' character reveals her mom is dead and she says "What do you want me to do, run through the streets screaming?" and 'Dereks' character responds, "Yes, if it helps."
If it helps. I have moments where I think, yes, what I'm doing is helping. During the lesser moments I realize that nothing truly 'helps' but some things simply make the situation more tolerable.
Lately, I have tried to negotiate the balance. My kids...they keep me busy and moving through our daily activities. Then there are the nights I am out while they are with my parents when I realize I am ignoring the reality of my world but it gives my mind and emotions time to regroup. It's easier to put all of this out of my mind when my kids are not present. Fortunately or unfortunately, it's always there, circling the back of my thoughts...it's in those moments I feel sort of normal and wonder if that's what I felt like before this life was thrust on me. Back then, however, I wasn't up at 3 a.m. wondering who else in this world is awake.
"I want to go back to when my life made sense."
And now it's 3:55 a.m. and I am sitting her thinking only 25 minutes has passed.
This movie reminds me of life before the life I lost...
After my first year of teaching I went to New York and Julia Stiles was in a Shakespeare production in Central Park. Miss the connection? She's in Save the Last Dance.
In this movie there is a scene where 'Sarah's' character reveals her mom is dead and she says "What do you want me to do, run through the streets screaming?" and 'Dereks' character responds, "Yes, if it helps."
If it helps. I have moments where I think, yes, what I'm doing is helping. During the lesser moments I realize that nothing truly 'helps' but some things simply make the situation more tolerable.
Lately, I have tried to negotiate the balance. My kids...they keep me busy and moving through our daily activities. Then there are the nights I am out while they are with my parents when I realize I am ignoring the reality of my world but it gives my mind and emotions time to regroup. It's easier to put all of this out of my mind when my kids are not present. Fortunately or unfortunately, it's always there, circling the back of my thoughts...it's in those moments I feel sort of normal and wonder if that's what I felt like before this life was thrust on me. Back then, however, I wasn't up at 3 a.m. wondering who else in this world is awake.
"I want to go back to when my life made sense."
And now it's 3:55 a.m. and I am sitting her thinking only 25 minutes has passed.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Smooth Roads
Last night I took my best girl out for a 'date.' It was a last minute decision with arrangements for Owen to spend the night with grandma and grandpa. She was thrilled when I told her it was 'Girls Night Out.' Of course, she kept calling it Girl's Out Date Night. Unfortunately, after milkshakes and Build a Bear...my sweet girl fell asleep in the car at 7:45 p.m. beginning almost two hours of a temperature and stomach ache. Fortunately, or unfortunately, by 9:30 it was gone and she was wide awake watching The Squeakquel with me in my bed...
In the end, she had a good night but as I laid there watching her sleep so soundly, content that all in the world was right, I couldn't help but think of her tears as she lay in my lap on the bathroom floor after she told me she was going to throw up. She cried and told me she wanted her daddy. At that moment I did too... I can say that those moments are the most lonely; the ones where my children need both parents. As I sat on the linoleum floor perched on a towel that was Chris' I thought he should be here. These same thoughts circled my brain last Saturday at Maya's first day of soccer. He would have been so proud watching her dribbling the ball across the gym floor, watching her listening to her coach, cheering for her friends, scoring goals... It's the same sad feeling that settles into my heart each Thursday morning when I take Owen to his swim class. Swim class was Chris' opportunity to participate in an activity with Maya and it is painful to think he did not get to do this with Owen. I feel like his opportunities with Owen were over in the blink of an eye before the real fun even began. Sixteen months is not long enough to have with your child...before you are taken from this Earth.
In the end, like I often say, I sort of felt sad...Owen is the only boy in our house. Even the cat and dog are female. This worries me; will he have enough male influence in his life? Will he have a man to connect with who will help him navigate his world? Will he be angry it wasn't his dad? Will I be angry that this relationship was taken from both of them before it even had the chance to grow?
I have spent the past four months watching Owen become a little man. Tonight he said car and please for the first time. His list of words is up to 31. There are so many things I cannot do to fulfill the role of a father but I will try. The obvious activities of rough housing and wrestling are red flags in my daily life. Chris was excellent at making both of the kids giggle and roll with delight at their play but it was his thing...and now it needs to become mine. Most days I get to the end, however, and realize it just didn't happen between the household chores and attempts at maintaining our daily activities. But that's just it, I'm trying.
This road is not easy. Some days smiling and laughing comes easily. Other days I have to remind myself that both are forms of social decorum I usually subscribe to. Each week I hit the same pothole. It always falls on Wednesday, Thursday or Friday. It's as if by the time I reach that point in the week my tank is low and the light has turned on. My mind returns to the thought that time will smooth this road.
In the end, she had a good night but as I laid there watching her sleep so soundly, content that all in the world was right, I couldn't help but think of her tears as she lay in my lap on the bathroom floor after she told me she was going to throw up. She cried and told me she wanted her daddy. At that moment I did too... I can say that those moments are the most lonely; the ones where my children need both parents. As I sat on the linoleum floor perched on a towel that was Chris' I thought he should be here. These same thoughts circled my brain last Saturday at Maya's first day of soccer. He would have been so proud watching her dribbling the ball across the gym floor, watching her listening to her coach, cheering for her friends, scoring goals... It's the same sad feeling that settles into my heart each Thursday morning when I take Owen to his swim class. Swim class was Chris' opportunity to participate in an activity with Maya and it is painful to think he did not get to do this with Owen. I feel like his opportunities with Owen were over in the blink of an eye before the real fun even began. Sixteen months is not long enough to have with your child...before you are taken from this Earth.
In the end, like I often say, I sort of felt sad...Owen is the only boy in our house. Even the cat and dog are female. This worries me; will he have enough male influence in his life? Will he have a man to connect with who will help him navigate his world? Will he be angry it wasn't his dad? Will I be angry that this relationship was taken from both of them before it even had the chance to grow?
I have spent the past four months watching Owen become a little man. Tonight he said car and please for the first time. His list of words is up to 31. There are so many things I cannot do to fulfill the role of a father but I will try. The obvious activities of rough housing and wrestling are red flags in my daily life. Chris was excellent at making both of the kids giggle and roll with delight at their play but it was his thing...and now it needs to become mine. Most days I get to the end, however, and realize it just didn't happen between the household chores and attempts at maintaining our daily activities. But that's just it, I'm trying.
This road is not easy. Some days smiling and laughing comes easily. Other days I have to remind myself that both are forms of social decorum I usually subscribe to. Each week I hit the same pothole. It always falls on Wednesday, Thursday or Friday. It's as if by the time I reach that point in the week my tank is low and the light has turned on. My mind returns to the thought that time will smooth this road.
Monday, March 7, 2011
If I believe
I have become fairly certain I am 'that' person who spouts off random information about her children to anyone who will listen because I am both lacking conversation time and lacking time to discuss how cool my kids are.
In my previous life, I used to store up tidbits of information throughout the day to share with Chris. Those moments where the kids would say funny things, where I had been frustrated or where I learned something I thought he would appreciate. He would walk through the door and laugh as I talked nonstop while he took off his boots, emptied out his lunch box and put it on the fridge, then stood with his belt undone waiting for a break in the conversation to hit the shower.
Two days ago Maya was dancing around in her t-shirt and underwear when she said "Mommy, some girls like to dance around in their panties like this." I laughed and laughed...if she only knew how true that was, right?
On both Tuesday and Thursday last week Maya told me she didn't want to go to preschool...she wanted to stay home with me. Of course she was just fine once we got to preschool but as I was pulling out after dropping her off on Thursday I thought about telling Chris I was concerned she didn't want to go twice.
I bought ginger ale tonight. I don't drink ginger ale...Chris did. Now I buy it for people who come over out of habit.
Both Owen and Maya threw up two weeks ago. We always thought Maya was just not a puker...she had only thrown up once in 4 years until the other day. He was supposed to be the puke catcher; it was our agreement.
Owen is trying to say "Thank You" and I was thinking today how Chris would be excited to know he is trying to say it and not just sign it.
Of course, I cannot tell him anything now. I suppose if I truly believe...he already knows about all of those moments.
In my previous life, I used to store up tidbits of information throughout the day to share with Chris. Those moments where the kids would say funny things, where I had been frustrated or where I learned something I thought he would appreciate. He would walk through the door and laugh as I talked nonstop while he took off his boots, emptied out his lunch box and put it on the fridge, then stood with his belt undone waiting for a break in the conversation to hit the shower.
Two days ago Maya was dancing around in her t-shirt and underwear when she said "Mommy, some girls like to dance around in their panties like this." I laughed and laughed...if she only knew how true that was, right?
On both Tuesday and Thursday last week Maya told me she didn't want to go to preschool...she wanted to stay home with me. Of course she was just fine once we got to preschool but as I was pulling out after dropping her off on Thursday I thought about telling Chris I was concerned she didn't want to go twice.
I bought ginger ale tonight. I don't drink ginger ale...Chris did. Now I buy it for people who come over out of habit.
Both Owen and Maya threw up two weeks ago. We always thought Maya was just not a puker...she had only thrown up once in 4 years until the other day. He was supposed to be the puke catcher; it was our agreement.
Owen is trying to say "Thank You" and I was thinking today how Chris would be excited to know he is trying to say it and not just sign it.
Of course, I cannot tell him anything now. I suppose if I truly believe...he already knows about all of those moments.
Friday, March 4, 2011
I'm not a princess...
"I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale, I'm not the one you'll sweep on her feet and lead her up the stair well."
At one point I did think I was the princess and that my life was a fairy tale. I had a fantastic husband, two beautiful children and a comfortable life in which I was happy. Chris swept me off my feet and 7 years later his death has swept me off my feet in a completely different way.
Tonight I reviewed that life via the slideshow my dad made for Chris' memorial service. Maya wanted to watch it so I conceded...I only made it through the first line of the opening song, Reach for the Sky, before the tears came. It was like watching my life flash before my eyes and it made me wonder if Chris experienced that before he died. I wondered if he fought to stay, I wondered if I had just walked in a few minutes sooner. I cried as Maya rambled on adding a dialogue to the video about each picture and event. Owen snuggled into my lap and we all sat watching the pictures of our life flash across the television.
At the end I thought, WTF. How the hell is this life better than the one I had? When do I get the do over? Too many things in this life hurt. Owen doesn't even know who Chris is and has started generalizing the title "Dada" to men in general. Just before falling asleep Maya told me how much she misses Chris and wants to take all her toys to heaven so she and Chris can play with them together one last time. The preschool director gave me a fantastic idea on how to incorporate Maya's concerns into a book for Owen about Chris. My insurance supposedly ended then it didn't, then it was going to, now it's through June. I really feel like I have had too many WTF moments this past week. Oh and did I mention the person who told me "it was a big, big lesson learned.." Um, huh?
Bitter..I am feeling it tonight and the tears burn. I am seething, uncomfortable, anxious and sentimental. I want my kids to have their father. I am tired of spending the evenings alone and the days having conversations with primarily children.
Today on my way home from the gym I sat looking over a field in the Snohomish valley thinking about Maya's future wedding. Who will walk her down the aisle? That was supposed to be Chris' privilege and I am angry that they were both screwed.
This week I have been spinning as I try to balance the workload, stress and emotional turmoil boiling inside me. The harder I try to be 'normal' the more crazy I feel internally. It really makes me wonder, will I ever be 'normal' as the real world feels lifes normalcy or is this new internal craziness my future normal.
Today, I am feeling the WTF moments of being a widow.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
The Story
The first time I detailed Chris' death, he technically wasn't dead; it was approximately 10 minutes after I found him collapsed in the shower. Officer Stevenson, who was taking the report for the call, came downstairs to ask me a few questions and that's when it started. The story. At that point, resuscitation efforts had not been called.
Of course this wasn't exactly the first time I had told someone what was going on. I had spoken to the 911 operator, my dad and my sister in law Trish. For the most part those phone calls only entailed two important facts: Chris was collapsed in the shower & he was not breathing. The rest of the story was still being pieced together in my mind.
Over the course of the 3 hours following the declaration of Chris' death, I proceeded to relay parts of the story to those who came to my house. I'm sure that there were details some would have rather never have known. The elephant in the room, however, was that for the majority of that time Chris' body was up in my room waiting for the arrival of the medical examiner.
The medical examiner was the next person to hear the story...
It is impossible to even estimate how many times I have told the story of Chris' death in part or in its entirety. I made so many phone calls and in each had to state the facts which without fail elicited questions. At some point I became used to it and my emotions were dulled to the events.
Today, I was surprised when the explanation evoked tears.
This morning, as soon as I buckled Maya into her booster seat the questions started. Mostly the questions surrounded Chris, heaven, baby Jesus, grown up Jesus, who dies and what we need to teach Owen about daddy. Truly this last part is mostly likely what pushed me to my edge. I choked up when explaining to Maya that Owen is so little he won't remember the fun things we did with Chris. She, of course, took this information in stride and rattled off all sorts of things she planned to tell Owen about their daddy. It was the moment when she told me "Mommy, when Owen gets to heaven he will say, Oh daddy, I love you!" that I started to silently cry in the drivers seat. In reality, I can't say I know for certain Owen will feel the emotions toward Chris that Maya and I will. Owen was screwed.
At the gym, I was hoping to check the kids into the same room, but of course, they wouldn't let me and the kids were split. I knew that Owen would scream as I left but essentially he would be fine and would have fun. Maya too, on her own will generally do fine. However, I feel like they need the camaraderie when I am not there to watch over them.
In the end, after my class, I explained to the child care worker why I was upset they wouldn't let Maya stay with Owen. Or, perhaps I should say I tried to. In the end, I got choked up and my friend Lora had to tell them. I left in tears, wanting to compose myself before I checked Maya out. I hate crying in front of strangers at this point because I have done it way too often. The feeling of vulnerability overwhelms me now and I want to stop the explaining.
In the end I was just sad.
Of course this wasn't exactly the first time I had told someone what was going on. I had spoken to the 911 operator, my dad and my sister in law Trish. For the most part those phone calls only entailed two important facts: Chris was collapsed in the shower & he was not breathing. The rest of the story was still being pieced together in my mind.
Over the course of the 3 hours following the declaration of Chris' death, I proceeded to relay parts of the story to those who came to my house. I'm sure that there were details some would have rather never have known. The elephant in the room, however, was that for the majority of that time Chris' body was up in my room waiting for the arrival of the medical examiner.
The medical examiner was the next person to hear the story...
It is impossible to even estimate how many times I have told the story of Chris' death in part or in its entirety. I made so many phone calls and in each had to state the facts which without fail elicited questions. At some point I became used to it and my emotions were dulled to the events.
Today, I was surprised when the explanation evoked tears.
This morning, as soon as I buckled Maya into her booster seat the questions started. Mostly the questions surrounded Chris, heaven, baby Jesus, grown up Jesus, who dies and what we need to teach Owen about daddy. Truly this last part is mostly likely what pushed me to my edge. I choked up when explaining to Maya that Owen is so little he won't remember the fun things we did with Chris. She, of course, took this information in stride and rattled off all sorts of things she planned to tell Owen about their daddy. It was the moment when she told me "Mommy, when Owen gets to heaven he will say, Oh daddy, I love you!" that I started to silently cry in the drivers seat. In reality, I can't say I know for certain Owen will feel the emotions toward Chris that Maya and I will. Owen was screwed.
At the gym, I was hoping to check the kids into the same room, but of course, they wouldn't let me and the kids were split. I knew that Owen would scream as I left but essentially he would be fine and would have fun. Maya too, on her own will generally do fine. However, I feel like they need the camaraderie when I am not there to watch over them.
In the end, after my class, I explained to the child care worker why I was upset they wouldn't let Maya stay with Owen. Or, perhaps I should say I tried to. In the end, I got choked up and my friend Lora had to tell them. I left in tears, wanting to compose myself before I checked Maya out. I hate crying in front of strangers at this point because I have done it way too often. The feeling of vulnerability overwhelms me now and I want to stop the explaining.
In the end I was just sad.
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