Bewildered

This morning I woke up baffled, perplexed, confused, bewildered about how I got here.  For a moment this morning I 'saw' Chris, laying in the bathtub and briefly thought about what I would tell him about my experience that morning.  Of course, I realize at the same time that we will never have that conversation and truly that is frustrating.  Part of me feels like I could come to terms with what happened easier if I just knew what his journey to the other side entailed.  I'm sure, in reality, this isn't true.  Today, however, I am longing for that one last moment, one last conversation, one last breath that we could take together before the goodbye is forever.

Journey

At every point in the human journey we find that we have to let go in order to move forward; and letting go means dying a little.  In the process we are being created anew, awakened afresh to the source of our being.  Kathleen R. Fischer

I've been reading this book for the past two months called Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations For Working Through Grief.  I love it because the chapters are succinct and the ideas are realistic.  I don't think I have encountered any major revelations via my reading of this book, however, I have come across many realistic reminders about my grief and how to redefine my world in relationship to it.

Moving forward is what is on my mind but I am confused about what this looks like, how to go about it and what it means I am leaving behind.

As the waters continue to calm as of recent days, I am alarmingly aware of my last image of Chris.  I can't shake it...  I suppose I should say it's not my last image, it's the image from when I first opened the bathroom door.  The puzzling thing about that image is that I see it as if the sliding glass door to the bathtub were already open however I am almost certain it wasn't.  This unsure memory makes me wonder, did he open the door, was the door really closed when I walked in?  It annoys me that I cannot piece together chronologically the events of that morning. At this moment I am trying to convince myself that truly it doesn't matter.  However, a part of me believes if I could piece it together, I could go back and find that moment I could stop the forward progression of this fate.  Of course realistically, I know it doesn't matter and I cannot.

This life is now about letting go, reevaluating myself and determining where my new journey will take me and my kids.  All of these are frightening because I suppose I am terrified that I will take the wrong step or that the path I choose will injure us further. 

I feel like the place I am in this journey is strangely silent.  My words seem to escape me while I am wrought with introspection. 

Sidenotes....

Totally love all of you who came to my defense.  I suppose I should have prefaced my entry with a few facts.  I am only bluntly honest all the time with a handful of people and though I expose my raw emotions here and to friends and family at large, I am a person who filters quite frequently based on past response to my situation, their connection to me, Chris or the kids as well their current life situation.  I know, I shouldn't be but I really do put that much thought into my conversations now not to mention despite the blog, I am a private person and there are some parts of this journey I want to divulge to very few because it feels like continually walking around naked with all your flaws exposed.  I know that neither Chris' death nor my journey through healing is a flaw but it's the best comparison I could think of...me walking around showing my post-baby stretch marks in a bikini at the mall. 

Having said that, this person I am brutally honest with...and though I wouldn't say I am an overall cynical person I think that Heather's response to my post hit it right on the head.  Being cynical is reality and in the end, it helps me move through this and be pleasantly surprised when things are going well or when they go better than planned however it is a safety feature in my life right now.  

I appreciate all of you diving in with love though!  It's that support that helps me get out of bed and put one foot in front of the other.  The reality is that I called myself out first on being cynical more out of fear that I may spend the rest of my life with this attitude unless I decide to be proactive about it all.

World-Weariness

cyn·i·cal  (sn-kl)

adj.

1. Believing or showing the belief that people are motivated chiefly by base or selfish concerns; skeptical of the motives of others: a cynical dismissal of the politician's promise to reform the campaign finance system.

2. Selfishly or callously calculating: showed a cynical disregard for the safety of his troops in his efforts to advance his reputation.

3. Negative or pessimistic, as from world-weariness: a cynical view of the average voter's intelligence.

4. Expressing jaded or scornful skepticism or negativity: cynical laughter.

A few days ago someone boldly pointed out that I have a very cynical attitude.  Now, don't get me wrong, I fully admit I do but I also think I do with justified reason.  Basically, it's a defense mechanism.  I didn't at all take offense to this comment, but it did make me realize how I perhaps am vocalizing it excessively.  

Here's the lowdown...my husband died.  Are you shocked?  Ok, not fair, that was sarcasm, also a defense mechanism.

Really, I have always played these mind games I call 'worst case scenario' with myself.  For example, when Maya was a newborn my milk supply was low and she wasn't gaining weight.  At two weeks old she was still an ounce below her birth weight.  I was horrified and convinced she was going to die despite the fact the pediatrician told us to supplement with formula and all would be well.  Of course, instead I did start supplementing but laid her on my chest that afternoon after her first bottle, thinking that I would snuggle her in case she died.  So, this scenario obviously didn't happen as my 'worst case scenario' since she is a very healthy almost 4 year old in fact she started gaining so fast it startled me.  But, I am sure you can totally see where I am going with this.

Chris and I often had 'worst case scenario' discussions though I am fairly certain they were from my persuasion.  The topics varied from house fires to cancer to divorce.  Never, ever, did the discussion broach young, tragic death.  Always the death scenarios were far into the future.  Even in the divorce discussions it was more about the statistic and who would divorce that we know and not actually about us.  Because, you know, that sort of thing doesn't happen to us. (Don't worry, we were not talking about YOU.)

And then it happened, something worse...

I remember questioning whether this could even be real because I had never even imagined such a heinous ending to our marriage, our life, Chris' existence.  

Cynical?  Yes, right now I am but because of definition #4...negative or pessimistic because of world-weariness.  The world caught me off guard and took me to a place even my most negative thoughts had never taken me and I am feeling weary that it will take me there again thus I must be prepared this time. 

In the end, it's just an excuse I suppose.  I don't want to be cynical but it seems like the flip side to that coin right now is that the world owes me some goodness, which it doesn't so why go through life expecting good things to be handed to you on a silver platter.  At the same time, I don't want to expect the worse either...

Beginning today, I am warding off cynicism. 

Puke Bowls

Yesterday it was Owen...tonight it was Maya and I am pleading with God that I am not next.  Puke.

Neither kid has really been a puker thus far.  I guess we have crossed that line.

This morning I woke up exhausted.  I think maybe it was a result of the lack of sleep two nights ago catching up with me.  Owen was crabby and Maya was tired.  Though Owen has basically recovered from his illness yesterday, Maya was working on hers unbeknownst to me.

Tonight I luckily saw it coming and had a puke bowl ready so we caught most of it.  Unfortunately, not all and she had some on her shirt, arms, me, etc. thus there was cleanup involved.  She didn't cry and was a great trooper in cleaning up and cuddling on the couch.  She even laughed about puke coming out of her nose.  She is now sound asleep, cuddled into her bed with her puke bowl and only one of her very important blankies should we haven't another incident.  It's been about 4 hours...not that I am counting.

Tonight I feel lonely.  I don't want to have to call anyone to save me or text friends for words of sympathy.  I want my companion to be here helping me clean up, keep Owen out of it all and get Maya settled.  It's lonely tonight.  After everyone was cleaned up and in jammies, I sat crying silently on the couch.  What the heck is going on.  I want to press the pause button and take some time to recover from the events of the evening.  Man, I could use a hug.;

Rings & Closets

Yes, I have stopped wearing Chris' ring around my neck. 

It started with the necklace bugging me.  I don't usually wear necklaces and eventually was distracted by it.  Eventually, I just stopped. 

My wedding ring...  I feel very self-conscious of this one. 

One day I was cleaning the kid's bathroom and, as I always do, I took it off to scrub everything.  That day...I forgot to put it back on.  The next day...I forgot again.  I finally took the time to put it back on four days later and it was like putting on a pair of shoes that just don't fit right.  Weird....I hadn't intended to stop wearing it.  I wanted to continue wearing it.  I wore it for most of the day but then took it off again, distracted by the fit.  I was not ready for that moment when it didn't feel right and I am perplexed why now.  I figured it would be awhile out and that it would be a very conscious gesture, not just a random side note.  I cannot decide how I feel about it.

My second major step is that I cleaned out Chris' drawers and closet...

I had been thinking about it for several days and finally woke up Wednesday morning and decided I needed to do it.  Though it is Chris' stuff...it is stuff.  It is stuff very important to me but I needed to sort through it.

In the end, I sorted the clothes into bins of items significant and important to me, things he treasured and things that were just 'other' items.  The treasured items are in the cedar chest in my room.  The things important to me are in a bin.  The 'other' items are also in storage bins.  I don't plan to donate them quite yet, but I did move them to the garage.  The first night I thought for sure I would find myself hanging them all back up.  It's been two days and tonight I reorganized my closet and moved some of my stuff out to the main closet.  I am sure this is adding to my state of mind issues.

Deep breathing. 

Three Months

91 days, 2184 hours, 131,040 minutes, 7,862,400 seconds

Three months ago at approximately 9:15 a.m. Chris died.  I will meet that moment face to face in just under 12 hours.

The days immediately following Chris' death were by far the most difficult during the 9 a.m. hour.  I would wake up already dreading passing the moment when his life ceased to be not only because it was by far the most terrifying moment of my life but also because it meant that one more day was put between my old life and my new life.  The separation was physically painful.  As the hour approached, my mind would automatically retrace the moments I could piece together from that moment trying to find the crumbs I had left on the path to find my way back.  Of course, as I have said hundreds of times, it was a normal morning thus my mind is foggy about the series of events I did not physically see.

Instead, I hear the thud.  I remember the loud cough.  I can see the discoloration of his face.  I can feel the coolness of Chris' chest as I did compressions.  I can hear my frantic voice telling him not to leave his kids.  I get pissed thinking of the 911 operator telling me to calm down because little did she know, I already knew he was dead.  My CPR efforts were futile. 

Prior to Chris' death, we had only spent time apart on four occasions that I can remember for no more than two nights each time.  It was a shocking reality to believe that I would be spending every single night alone for....ever.  I often explain Maya's grieving in terms of her lack of understanding in regard to what forever is.  In reality, do any of us really know?

Tonight I am looking at the three month mark with slight disdain, a smidge of relief and a strange sort of self-congratulations.  The disdain does not require much explanation.  The smidge of relief has surfaced because I didn't think I could make it this far.  In the days immediately following Chris' death much time was spent truly believing the world would just stop spinning and I would fall right off as if gravity could not contain my grief.  On some days I feel darn proud of putting one foot in front of the other, managing to maintain my household, feeling mostly successful about the growth of my children as well as felling like I am truly, well, feeling this.  Within hours of Chris' death I realized I needed to face this thing head on; I couldn't shy away from places, events, situations, dates, people.  My first mission I faced was going into the bathroom in which I found him dead.  I even stood in the shower because I realized if I didn't do it then I might not ever do it.  Of course, as I stood there, I looked down and saw the soap he had dropped on the shower floor....I had not realized it was there when I found him because it would have been under his right leg. 

Many of you have told me this is masochistic behavior but in all honesty, my entire life could be viewed that way.  Chris clothes are still in the closet, his wallet (with the exception of his license) is just as he left it receipts and all, he still has toiletries in the bathroom, his drawers are still full of clothes, his shoes are still in the garage and his shaving kit is still under my bathroom sink.  It is all just stuff.  They are all just places.

This past weekend I stayed the night in Seattle, at the last minute by myself.  The next afternoon I drove to the park Chris and I walked to on our first 'real' date (no, not the horrible blind date!).  The park is on the water in Kirkland...that night we had sushi, got a drink (mojitos) and went for a walk where we sat talking on the dock for hours.  As we were leaving the park, he grabbed my hand and I smiled...feeling the tingling in my stomach.  Maybe it was masochistic.  I sat and cried.  However, I faced it, I remembered and now I can keep moving through.  I was sad sitting there but in reality the memory is vibrant.  It was the night I started to fall in love with Chris. 

All of this and truly I feel like I am writing in circles especially in light of the fact that grief relents for only moments and takes that opportunity to regroup and sneak back into my physical being.

Social Distortion

Chris' favorite band was Social Distortion.  I look at that sentence and can't decide if I should leave it in past tense....

Three days before Chris' died I convinced him to buy tickets to see Social D at the Showbox Sodo in Seattle.  We bought 3 tickets.  Chris, me and his best friend.  I had never before been 'invited' to come so really it was a big moment and I was excited!

The tickets arrived in the mail a few days after Chris died and I was heartbroken....even more so when I had to sell the tickets because the benefit fundraiser which was put together by Maya's preschool was planned for the same night, February 11th.  Luckily, I was able to buy tickets and sell mine so we could go the next night, February 12th.   I needed to go. 

In the days leading up to the concert I couldn't decide how I felt about it.  I love the band but couldn't imagine going without Chris.  At the same time, I wanted to go because I wanted to be able to imagine what it would have been like with him there.  At the last minute I decided to stay overnight in Seattle since my kidlets would be at my parents house for the night anyway.

I am so lucky to have phenomenal friends to come with me.  We met at a bar Chris would have loved, we had a few drinks and we enjoyed a great band.  I loved it...even the drunk guys who kept trying to start fights around us.  I kept imagining Chris there.  I had fun but I missed him.  In the end, it was also apparent how solo I am.  I know his best friend kept an eye on me, but in the end, it was his wife he was looking after as it should be.  Life is lonely when you realize this.  

At the Life Tribute for Chris we played a song by this band called Reach for the Sky.  In my heart I was pleading that they wouldn't play this song because I thought I would lose it emotionally.  They didn't play it and as I got back to my room, I was a bit sad.  I wanted to hear it.  Chris' best friend recommended the song for the slide show and in the end, it depicted the way Chris lived his life, reaching for the sky.  He lived life with gusto.

A little Social D for your viewing pleasure.

Preschool Valentines Party

At the beginning of January my dad was approached by the director of Maya's preschool about the school's Valentines Pizza Party fundraiser.  She proposed donating the money paid for raffle tickets at the dinner to the memorial fund set up in Chris' memory.  I had never been the beneficiary of such generosity of course I had never been in a position previously to need such generosity.

I will admit that I wasn't hesitant at first...then I became increasingly so.  There are too many days I am tired of being 'that' girl...the one who's husband died.  It seems to have become my identity and I miss just being Sabrina.

Despite this, I quickly learned how generous the people around us are.  The number of donations made for the raffle by individuals I know was amazing.

Even more amazing was the turnout of the people we love.  It was a testament to those wonderful people who have stood strong and done everything in their power to try to ease our transition into this world.  Part of me even believes Chris was watching over us as literally every person who came to personally support me won something.  Of significance was a golf basket I put together with my mom.  I didn't tell anyone but my parents that I had put 5 boxes of unopened golf balls that had been Chris'.   His brother won the basket...

Overall...it wasn't such an awful thing being 'that girl' tonight.  I do, however, want my identity back.

Backwards Momentum

Addie, Maya & Sarah at swim lessons

 So I've had a crappy 3 days.  There, I said it.  It boils down to feeling like I can't possibly be expected to keep this pace forever.

I saw it coming and at least this time I tried to prepare mentally for it.  I warned people.  It feels slightly akin to Chicken Little telling people the sky is falling, however.

I have a great friend who calls me and even though I drag my feet when our conversations start...she keeps right on talking until I am talking to.  The funny thing is that we were not really great friends until a couple months before Chris died though we had known each other for about 7 years.  Now she is a rock and helping hold the foundation of my life together.  I am blessed by her and her family.  She called and we chatted and while we were talking I was thinking about the swim lessons our girls take together.  Tonight I stood trying to sign up for swim the whole time (ugh) so I didn't get to watch the girls' lesson but last week we sat watching the girls and giggling about how fast their little legs move yet they don't move very far or fast at all.  So much energy expended yet very little progress.

The girls swimming technique is quite similar to my living technique right now.  I feel like I am moving, moving, moving, always thinking and making lists and trying to complete tasks between tasks yet no matter how fast I move...very little seems to get accomplished without a disproportionate about of time being put into them and not my children.  Sort of like that last run on sentence.  In the end, I feel like all my energy is being sucked away yet I don't feel good about the results or the number of times I say "In just a minute"during the course of one day.  I keep telling myself I will 'take a day off' from all these tasks but in reality...I can't.

Tonight I really want to use the word hubris.  I can't find a place for it. So, there it is.

The other night my cousin was over and I was battling a very snotty nose, a 3 1/2 year old unfamiliar with diarrhea thus not knowing the signs, and trying to serve dinner while having the chance to actually sit to consume my meal.  I eat standing... A LOT.  In my old life I made it a point to sit and eat breakfast with the kids and without exception we ate dinner as a family but I rarely get to now.  Today, while the kids were eating I took bites of my sandwhich between washing kid's cups by hand and emptying the dishwasher.  Oh and did I mention scolding the dog for constantly stealing food from the table? 

Who wants to train my dog?  The darn thing cost me $550.  She was Chris' dog and now is severely energetic due to my lack of walking her.  I know it's my fault and wake up intending to walk her each day and then it's 7:30 p.m. and my kids are going to bed and the day is gone. 

So much complaining. 

Tonight I was reading the words of Elie Wiesel and thinking about my blog.  He wrote, "Whoever survives a test, whatever it may be, must tell the story.  That is his duty." 

Before I even thought about the quote I giggled for one second remembering my old students who still thought Elie Wiesel was a woman after supposedly reading the assigned book Night.  Obviously they had not cracked the spine. 

Back to the quote.

I feel strongly that everyone experiencing a grieving process must be allowed to vocalize their pain, happiness, gratitude, etc. as they deem necessary.  However, I feel like I need to remind people around the kids and myself that it isn't just about us.  Yes,  perhaps we have the most aspects of our lives impacted however I feel like we are all figuring this out individually as well as collectively and that I need to hear the details of others journeys to sustain me in mine.  I need to know I am not the only one angry, lonely, sad, dejected...  I need to know what it's like from your perspective as Chris' friend, family, acquaintance.  In sharing your journey with me you are helping me along on mine. 

These conversations also remind me that Chris was real; my old life wasn't just a dream. I was happy and I was in love. 

The Head and the Heart

Yesterday grief decided to drown me.  Today, I am trying not to let it fully encompass me as to swallow me whole.  This is my song today, Lost in My Mind.  Have you heard of The Head and the Heart?  LOVE THEM!!  Very much worth the listen...indie-pop-rock-folky sort of thing.  For those of you living this grief thing along with me in any capacity, it is sort of like being lost in your mind, right? 

Fevers and Final Images

 For some reason I am feeling like 'it's coming' though it is unidentifiable at this point and the arrival time has yet to be published.

Today Owen spiked a fever.  Looking back, it was probably coming on when I had him at swim class.  The poor guy isn't especially warm blooded but can make it through class cheery despite the blue lips (which totally freak me out these day).  But today...not so much.  By the end of class the poor lil man was trembling from the cool water.  Of course, I didn't realize he had a fever for two more hours.  Luckily it's someplace between 99 and 100 and he's not acting temperamental about it.  I am holding out hope that it is a reaction to the DTaP vaccine he received yesterday and not an actual virus.  My hope mostly stems from the fact he had a reaction in the form of a fever after his last DTaP vaccine.  Of course, that fact doesn't explain Maya's complaint of a stomach ache today or her lack of appetite.  Tonight I am praying for no 2 a.m. puking wake up call. 

Since Chris died the kidlets have experienced an ongoing stream of common colds.  Snotty noses, mild coughs, used tissues in all my pockets have become common place.  It's the season for illness.  We have not had a major blow to our immune systems in the form of fevers or throwing up, however, since Chris died and for some reason, it bothers me that it might be here.  Maybe that is what 'it' is?  Single parenthood sucks.

When Maya was almost 1 years old she got a virus that manifested itself with a high temperature, lack of appetite, lethargy, etc.  For 5 days she refused to be put down in bed, on the floor, on the couch or anywhere not directly on top of one of us.  I honestly just sat with her most days trying to get her to eat or drink, making sure her fever was being controlled and showering when Chris got home.  At night she wouldn't sleep in her bed and wouldn't settle in ours so Chris and I took shifts with her on the couch, with her laying on our chest partially propped up.  Chris would take 9 til midnight then I would send him to bed for 4 hours til his alarm went off.  Ironically it was me that started singing Maya 'Three Little Birds' at this point, in the middle of the night, walking around the living room trying to get her to settle.  Shortly after Chris picked it up as 'daddy's song' because it's the only song he said he knew every word to.

The realization that I am solo scares me because of instances like this.  Even tonight with a mild fever and a stomach ache the three of us cuddled on the couch watching Alvin and the Chipmunks the Squeekquel because I couldn't hold one to snuggle and still play with the other who was feeling much better.  Of course I sat there praying that all stomach contents stay in their respective places.  I am terrified of puke!!  Chris was terrified of blood.  Luckily our kids really haven't puked much.  Maybe that's why it scares me so much.  Unfortunately, a split lip was common occurrance for Maya on a weekly basis for about two years.  I am not exaggerating.  For the first year, Chris would freak out about the blood.  He finally got the hang of grabbing a cold wet wash cloth and letting her hold it to her lip until the bleeding stopped but it took awhile. 

His fear of blood and his overreaction to injuries led to many conversations about who was more fit to respond during a real emergency.  I was the obvious choice.  In the end...I was the choice.

My final thought for the night is that I haven't been able to get the image of Chris when I first opened the bathroom door out of my head  the past 3 days.  When my mind starts to wander, that is what I see.  If you spoke to me during the first week you know what I am seeing.  I will spare the rest of you the details.  I am not replaying the whole morning...just that specific moment.  Truly I would like to banish that image forever, at the same time...it was just after that moment I touched his skin, his cheek, his lips, his chest for the last time.  It's a push and pull of my subconscious to banish yet retain that final image. 

Other Stuff

A couple side notes from today that I couldn't find a place for in my other post:

1.  Owen is 33.5 inches and 27 lbs 9.5 oz.
2.  He didn't cry when he got his shot...at all though he flinched and made a sad face.
3.  Owen has PEED ON THE POTTY 3 times in the past 2 days. 
4.  Maya remembered Chris taking her on a 'date' to Haggen to have Mac n Cheese when we drove by the store.
5.  I have people I know intimately as well as acquaintances bringing me meals and I LOVE YOU ALL for helping me out.  I feel a bit like a loser needing help...no worries I try to only let it be a fleeting thought.
6.  Owen's language skills are not lacking quite as much as I thought they were...in fact not at all according to the doctor.
7.  It's so sunny that I realized I need to really scrub my windows.
8.  Widowhood is slightly like a midlife crisis.  Today I offed to go skinny dipping in Green Lake with a friend. 

A Hot Mess

Last night I had another dream....

Chris and I were going on vacation.  My sister was there as well as Chris' brother and my sister in law, though I never actually saw her.  Tori, Chris and I were in a car on our way to a hotel when I told him I was going to need a break from our relationship.  He agreed and we checked in to separate rooms.  Suddenly it was 3 days later and I was riding a bike with my sister down the road in some town when we ran across Chris who was also riding a bike.  He rode back with us.  As we approached a crosswalk and stopped to wait for the light to change, I turned and told him I was done with our separation and loved him.  He smiled and told me he had met someone else and they were in love.  He told me the person, whose name I will not publish here, but will say though I've known her since the 7th grade she was always more of an acquaintance than a friend.  She lives nearby now and I run into her occasionally but Chris had never met her. 

Back to the dream.  We were suddenly in my Highlander but my sister was driving.  Chris was in the back seat and I was arguing with him about the implausibility of falling in love in 3 days with a total stranger.  Tori kept turning up the radio to drown us out which was annoying me.  We suddenly stopped at a duplex and let Chris out and drove on. 

Again I was suddenly in the back seat and Tori was no longer driving but an unknown black woman.  My brother in law was in the front seat and it was clear my sister in law had left him but he wanted to go back.  We arrived at a walk on ferry where they let me out and I was swallowed up by the crowd...then I woke up.

Back in reality it was 6:17 a.m. and Owen was screaming...with a lovely blow out diaper to greet me.

This afternoon (complete non sequitur) Owen had his 18 month appointment.  I was prepared to talk about Chris and his cause of death since we had not been there since the day Chris died.  I did and it was tolerable because I had prepared myself for those moments. Buckling up the kids, I took one last look at the stats sheet the nurse had given me on my way out and wondered, who am I supposed to share this with?  I know lots of people love my kids but nobody loves them as much as Chris and I do.  I was thinking about this and feeling the stink of tears as I started the car and on the radio came a song sent to me by Chris' best friend a couple days ago.  I saw the link on my phone but hadn't listened to it until last night when I played it 3 times and cried.  Chris would have loved this band.  I cried all the way home thinking about Chris and how much he loved our kids.

This post seems to be a rambling mess in terms of its structure but I suppose it reflects what is actually going on in my life especially the fact that the past few days I have felt like a hot mess.