School was cancelled on Monday as the morning temperature read a balmy -16 degrees. It is fitting.
January is always cold... well, because it is January. The week after Chris passed I remember frigid temperatures. There was no deisre to hang around at the cemetary... it was too cold to be outside for too long.
I don't remember January being so bitterly cold in years before Chris' passing.
But since his passing, I remember that week in January following his death. I remember how cold it was. That was the week our back patio cracked from the bitterly cold temperatures (or as a statement of sadness over its' owners' death).
The cold sticks out to me now.... the temperatures in the negatives. It seems very fitting for the events that transpired in my life in the month of January.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
PIANO
I have made a few trips to the Cancer Center about an hour from here in the last few weeks. I have had the opportunity to continue to accompany my husband's cousin to her doctor appointments and treatments.
I have been pleasantly surprised at how well I have done with it all. It seems every time we go, we walk into another place that has memories that takes me back. Amazing how many waiting rooms I sat in years ago. Each for a different reason, a different test or scan, a different doctor, a different treatment. When my stay in the waiting rooms was long, I would sometimes walk out into the hall. Each floor in the Cancer Center (aside from the hospital room floors) has a balcony that overlooks the lobby. There are volunteers that come in and perform in the 'background' their various musical talents. I remember the piano. I don't know who, and perhaps it was several different people, but I remember laying on the bench floors above the lobby, passing the time while listening to someone play the piano. It was soothing.
A couple years ago, I had stopped into the Cancer Center around Christmas time as I was looking for a particular item I knew they sold there in the Gift Shop. When I walked in, I was struck by the sound of the piano. I walked into the gift shop, but was overcome and I had to leave.
With my recent visits there I have seen guitar players and other instruments, but this past week I walked in to a pianist. It felt good. He was young and talented. I watched him. He was casually watching the hustle of the lobby while playing a beautiful and soothing piece. He caught my eye, and I smiled. I was grateful. Grateful that time has passed enough for me to feel the soothing peace in the music and grateful for people like him that share their talents so people like me can feel some peace in their storm.
I have been pleasantly surprised at how well I have done with it all. It seems every time we go, we walk into another place that has memories that takes me back. Amazing how many waiting rooms I sat in years ago. Each for a different reason, a different test or scan, a different doctor, a different treatment. When my stay in the waiting rooms was long, I would sometimes walk out into the hall. Each floor in the Cancer Center (aside from the hospital room floors) has a balcony that overlooks the lobby. There are volunteers that come in and perform in the 'background' their various musical talents. I remember the piano. I don't know who, and perhaps it was several different people, but I remember laying on the bench floors above the lobby, passing the time while listening to someone play the piano. It was soothing.
A couple years ago, I had stopped into the Cancer Center around Christmas time as I was looking for a particular item I knew they sold there in the Gift Shop. When I walked in, I was struck by the sound of the piano. I walked into the gift shop, but was overcome and I had to leave.
With my recent visits there I have seen guitar players and other instruments, but this past week I walked in to a pianist. It felt good. He was young and talented. I watched him. He was casually watching the hustle of the lobby while playing a beautiful and soothing piece. He caught my eye, and I smiled. I was grateful. Grateful that time has passed enough for me to feel the soothing peace in the music and grateful for people like him that share their talents so people like me can feel some peace in their storm.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
WATCHING THEM GROW UP
I was just watching the movie The Last Song. I didn't know anything about the movie... it just looked like a good clean family movie to watch.
My father-in-law died in an industrial accident years ago, before he was my father-in-law. Our families were friends, so I still remember very clearly when I was told he had passed. There had been an explosion, he was burned badly. He had survived a couple days, but then passed.
In the early days of the TV Show ER, I used to enjoy watching it. My mother-in-law would watch with me. I remember one time the subject matter of the show was a case involving a burn victim. My mother-in-law left the room. She couldn't watch. I understood, but didn't understand what that felt like.
Tonight as I was watching the movie, I found it was about a father who had been estranged from his children. He has them come stay with him for the summer. As the movie unfolds you discover he is dying from cancer. It is still hard to watch that. I find it impossible to watch it - without feeling those feelings all over again. Without looking at the 'reality' of life as I know it.... as my kids know it. Without feeling the pain all over again of my kids growing up without their father. Now, years later, I can truly understand what that must have felt like for my mother-in-law. Why she preferred to change the channel on those nights.
In the movie the older sister comments regarding her younger brother that her dad won't get to see him grow up.
I would just like to disagree with that, if I may. My kids are not the little kids they were when their father passed. They have grown up. They are turning into teenagers, young adults with mature thoughts and decision making power. They have missed the daily interaction with their father. Had he been here, they would have become someone else. But, even though he was not here... I know that he has watched them grow up. He has been there for them in moments he could not have been otherwise. He has not been able to physically hold them or discipline them, but he has been able to help them feel his love for them when they needed it. He has watched them grow up. Death takes away many things, but that is not one of them.
My father-in-law died in an industrial accident years ago, before he was my father-in-law. Our families were friends, so I still remember very clearly when I was told he had passed. There had been an explosion, he was burned badly. He had survived a couple days, but then passed.
In the early days of the TV Show ER, I used to enjoy watching it. My mother-in-law would watch with me. I remember one time the subject matter of the show was a case involving a burn victim. My mother-in-law left the room. She couldn't watch. I understood, but didn't understand what that felt like.
Tonight as I was watching the movie, I found it was about a father who had been estranged from his children. He has them come stay with him for the summer. As the movie unfolds you discover he is dying from cancer. It is still hard to watch that. I find it impossible to watch it - without feeling those feelings all over again. Without looking at the 'reality' of life as I know it.... as my kids know it. Without feeling the pain all over again of my kids growing up without their father. Now, years later, I can truly understand what that must have felt like for my mother-in-law. Why she preferred to change the channel on those nights.
In the movie the older sister comments regarding her younger brother that her dad won't get to see him grow up.
I would just like to disagree with that, if I may. My kids are not the little kids they were when their father passed. They have grown up. They are turning into teenagers, young adults with mature thoughts and decision making power. They have missed the daily interaction with their father. Had he been here, they would have become someone else. But, even though he was not here... I know that he has watched them grow up. He has been there for them in moments he could not have been otherwise. He has not been able to physically hold them or discipline them, but he has been able to help them feel his love for them when they needed it. He has watched them grow up. Death takes away many things, but that is not one of them.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
NEVER ALONE
As I read the following story told by James E. Faust, it reminded me of how I felt facing my life alone after Chris' passing. It reminded me of the gratitude I felt (feel) for a loving Father in Heaven who knows me and loves me and walks beside me. We never are alone... unless we choose to walk away from Him.
"One young woman became much more aware of the wonderful relationship we have to our Heavenly Father when she left home for the first time to go to college. Her father gave her a blessing and expressed his love. Then she writes:
'I clung to his words of love and support as I said a painful good-bye to my family. I felt alone and scared in those uncharted waters. Before I left the apartment that morning, I knelt down to ask for help. Desperately I pleaded with my Heavenly Father for strength to be able to face the college world all alone. I had left my family and friends and everything familiar the day before, and I knew I needed His help.
'My prayers were answered as I reflected on the tender experience with my father the day before. A wave of comfort fell over me as I realized that I had not come to college with the blessing of just my earthly father. I suddenly felt that one day, not so long ago, my Heavenly Father had held me close in His arms. Perhaps He gave me words of advice and encouragement and told me that He believed in me, just as my earthly father had. And at that moment, I knew that I am never without the perfect love and endless support of my Father in Heaven.”
"One young woman became much more aware of the wonderful relationship we have to our Heavenly Father when she left home for the first time to go to college. Her father gave her a blessing and expressed his love. Then she writes:
'I clung to his words of love and support as I said a painful good-bye to my family. I felt alone and scared in those uncharted waters. Before I left the apartment that morning, I knelt down to ask for help. Desperately I pleaded with my Heavenly Father for strength to be able to face the college world all alone. I had left my family and friends and everything familiar the day before, and I knew I needed His help.
'My prayers were answered as I reflected on the tender experience with my father the day before. A wave of comfort fell over me as I realized that I had not come to college with the blessing of just my earthly father. I suddenly felt that one day, not so long ago, my Heavenly Father had held me close in His arms. Perhaps He gave me words of advice and encouragement and told me that He believed in me, just as my earthly father had. And at that moment, I knew that I am never without the perfect love and endless support of my Father in Heaven.”
Sunday, January 16, 2011
SIX YEARS
On my last day of work a couple weeks ago, I came home to flowers from a friend with a note that read, "To brighten your day and celebrate a new door opening in your life!"
I feel as though that has been my theme this year. Moving forward... new doors opening... I have gained tremendous strength and finished much of the healing process. I am liking the person I am becoming and accepting myself in all my weaknesses. My kids are stronger.. they are better. It truly felt like a milestone year.
We attended church today, my oldest went home with a friend following church and the younger two are snug on the couch with each other watching a movie. Chris died on a Sunday. It is odd thinking the years have gone by enough for the 16th to fall on the same day of the week. It has my mind thinking forward to the events of the days that followed.
I asked my kids today to tell me some 'stories' they remember about their dad. This is what they told me... in their words:
Wrestling on the furry white carpet at Grandma's house.
He woke us up late at night and made us finish our chores.
Packing us a lunch box to go to grandma's and then watching him work (he packed pringles).
When we worked with him he gave us cracker sticks with cheese (in the little packages).
In the winter when he plowed at Grandma's he would make us big hills to sled on.
When we went to the hospital to see him they gave us popsicles.
When he was sick I (daughter) would come home from school and sit in his blue chair with him and watch TV with him.
He made me (youngest son) fried bologna for lunch.
We wanted to play in the sprinkler but he made us clean our room.
He put the train around the Christmas Tree.
He read us Harry Potter every night.
He told us ghost stories.
He took us to plane shows and car shows.
He took us out on the boat and when he turned fast our sister would cry.
He had dogs.
He showed us a stick bug.
Six years and moving forward. Life goes on. The Lord compensates for the loss. Joy is felt.
I think I am going to put in a fire.... and join the kids for the movie. And tonight when I say my prayers... I am going to express my gratitude for the tender mecies and the blessings that have made my cup to 'runneth over'.
I feel as though that has been my theme this year. Moving forward... new doors opening... I have gained tremendous strength and finished much of the healing process. I am liking the person I am becoming and accepting myself in all my weaknesses. My kids are stronger.. they are better. It truly felt like a milestone year.
We attended church today, my oldest went home with a friend following church and the younger two are snug on the couch with each other watching a movie. Chris died on a Sunday. It is odd thinking the years have gone by enough for the 16th to fall on the same day of the week. It has my mind thinking forward to the events of the days that followed.
I asked my kids today to tell me some 'stories' they remember about their dad. This is what they told me... in their words:
Wrestling on the furry white carpet at Grandma's house.
He woke us up late at night and made us finish our chores.
Packing us a lunch box to go to grandma's and then watching him work (he packed pringles).
When we worked with him he gave us cracker sticks with cheese (in the little packages).
In the winter when he plowed at Grandma's he would make us big hills to sled on.
When we went to the hospital to see him they gave us popsicles.
When he was sick I (daughter) would come home from school and sit in his blue chair with him and watch TV with him.
He made me (youngest son) fried bologna for lunch.
We wanted to play in the sprinkler but he made us clean our room.
He put the train around the Christmas Tree.
He read us Harry Potter every night.
He told us ghost stories.
He took us to plane shows and car shows.
He took us out on the boat and when he turned fast our sister would cry.
He had dogs.
He showed us a stick bug.
Six years and moving forward. Life goes on. The Lord compensates for the loss. Joy is felt.
I think I am going to put in a fire.... and join the kids for the movie. And tonight when I say my prayers... I am going to express my gratitude for the tender mecies and the blessings that have made my cup to 'runneth over'.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
YOU DON'T COUNT
My phone rang yesterday around 2:50pm. My oldest son was on the other end of the line. I was finishing up some errands and he had just arrived home from school. He recounted a story to me about a visit he had with the neighbor when he got home from school. He had walked over to his home as he saw him shoveling the six inches of snow that fell and thought he may be able to help him. The neighbor declined the assistance as he was a few scoops away from being done, but engaged in some conversation with him. As a mother I felt proud that my son had been so thoughtful as to offer his assistance. When he was done telling me about their conversation, I said, "You know... there is this widow that actually lives at the same address you do. Perhaps you should consider giving her a hand. I know her driveway needs to be shoveled." There was a pause. "What? No. You don't count."
"What do you mean I don't count?"
"You can't keep calling yourself a widow."
"Why, he is still dead. I AM still a widow."
"No...."
"Yes. And the widow would really like her driveway shoveled."
"What do you mean I don't count?"
"You can't keep calling yourself a widow."
"Why, he is still dead. I AM still a widow."
"No...."
"Yes. And the widow would really like her driveway shoveled."
Friday, January 14, 2011
CRYING.... ALMOST
My girlfriend just walked in the house carrying a priority mail box. I glanced lightly at it, assuming it was another of my youngest son's many airsoft guns. He has become obsessed with the sport and spends every dollar he gets on a new gun or accessory.
On my glance it caught my eye as saying "Kimmy" not "Kim" or "Kimberly", so I got up to take the package from my friend. I knew right away it was from family. No one else calls (or could get away with calling) me "Kimmy". Upon ripping the package open (I am still like a kids when it comes to opening presents) I started screaming and jumping up and down. My girlfriend just watched curiously. Then I got teary eyed. They love me. My family loves me. They know what I want, they know what is important to me and despite the many miles between us.. they do what they can to lend a helping hand. I pulled out the card, and read it "Kimmy, Just a little something to let you know we're all thinking of you. It's been six tough years- Here's to moving forward, reaching your goals & being your best self. Love, your siblings" My voice cracked as I read it. I am so blessed with such a loving and supportive family. My girlfriend was so excited to be here to witness the emotions... the teary eyes.
The gift... A Body Media FIT Armband.
The "Thank You" I say does not come close to expressing my gratitude for all they do.
On my glance it caught my eye as saying "Kimmy" not "Kim" or "Kimberly", so I got up to take the package from my friend. I knew right away it was from family. No one else calls (or could get away with calling) me "Kimmy". Upon ripping the package open (I am still like a kids when it comes to opening presents) I started screaming and jumping up and down. My girlfriend just watched curiously. Then I got teary eyed. They love me. My family loves me. They know what I want, they know what is important to me and despite the many miles between us.. they do what they can to lend a helping hand. I pulled out the card, and read it "Kimmy, Just a little something to let you know we're all thinking of you. It's been six tough years- Here's to moving forward, reaching your goals & being your best self. Love, your siblings" My voice cracked as I read it. I am so blessed with such a loving and supportive family. My girlfriend was so excited to be here to witness the emotions... the teary eyes.
The gift... A Body Media FIT Armband.
The "Thank You" I say does not come close to expressing my gratitude for all they do.
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