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.

CHRIS, ARE YOU HERE?

I woke up this morning and everything in my world was different. I was facing the daunting reality that two of my three kids are now teenagers. How did that happen?



I know time goes quickly, too quickly sometimes. It was just strange to realize I am facing the most difficult and critical years without Chris. It just seemed a little unfair. Don't get me wrong, I don't question God. I know He is much wiser than I, and that He will compensate in these kid's lives for what they are missing... but some days I think of what they are missing and I feel a little sad for them. I still have the ability to call my dad and talk, and get wise advice when I need it.

When I finally crawled out of bed this morning, I walked into the kitchen. Chris' leather jacket was on the back of the kitchen chair. I looked at it at least five times, picking it up and looking closer. Yes, it was Chris' jacket.

I hadn't seen it in years. It was an odd sight on an odd day. Our daughter is thirteen... he should be here to wish her happiness and joy in her teenage years. Although, I know he will watch over her still and strive to help her be on a path that will bring her happiness and joy.

I was crossing the street from my office to the parking lot and someone drove by that made me do a double take. Weird.

After work, I ran downstairs to get some garlic bread out of the freezer. Chris' nose spray was sitting on top of the freezer. He had terrible allergies and that nose spray was a standard... in jean pockets, jackets, the car, everywhere he went, there was the spray. It made me take a look around.

My oldest must be missing his dad. I think he starts to dig his few remaining things out when he is missing him.

But, for it to happen today.... on our little girl's birthday, just made me smile even more.

JERSEY BOYS

I was able to go see Jersey Boys last night thanks to Shannon for volunteering to play mom for me and run my son around while I was gone. There was some needless crude language in it - but I loved the older songs. I just love to sit and listen to the music that is enveloped in a story.


I had never been to a musical before I was engaged to my husband. He took me to my first the week before we got married. We went and saw Phantom of the Opera. That was the beginning. He loved musicals, and the songs from them and helped me to grow a greater appreciation for the various styles of music.


As I look towards my future there is and has been over the past five years a lot of discovering who I am and who I want to be. This I will take with me. I used to go to them or watch them to support my husband... but this one I found myself craving.


I just wanted to be there and to soak it all in.


So, one of the perks of widowhood was deciding it was a great Mother's day gift for me.... and buying it. Now I am downloading the album and will listen to it over and over again...

AT LEAST IT IS NOT THE CHILDREN

When my husband was ill and we were planning treatment, we met one day with the Radiologist. They took us into a room that had a row of 'beds'. We assumed our position in the area assigned to us and waited for the doctor. As we sat there, we were looking around - and directly next to us was a little boy about 4 or 5 years old. He had lost his hair due to the chemo and looked very ill. Chris talked to him about what was wrong with him, etc and made some chit chat.

As we left the hospital that day, I walked out with a lump in my throat as I held my husband's hand. It was horrible to watch my husband in pain. It was even more horrible to consider that he may not 'get better'. But as bad as things were - I could not imagine it being my child that was ill. We both uttered those feelings as we drove home and we kissed and hugged our three healthy children as we arrived home that day. We were blessed and we were grateful that if there was to be pain in our home that it didn't have to be our children's pain.

I have a couple friends with sick children. I can not imagine the emotional turmoil that it must take as a mother - unable to take that pain away. My one friend's son is battling cancer and as I read her daily blogs regarding their trial... my heart is filled with such compassion - and I remember that my life is good. I also pray that she will feel, as we did, the comforting influence of the Holy Ghost. That they may, through the atonement, have some of their pain and sorrow taken away. That they may feel their Savior's love. Those things allowed me to press forward with steadfastness every day. I pray it will sustain them as well.

I TALKED TO DAD

I was out shopping this past weekend, spending some girl time with my daughter and a girlfriend. I was standing in line to check out and my daughter came up to me to show me this cool gadget she had found and to begin the petition for me to purchase the item. I looked at it and smiled...

"No way - but too bad cause if your dad was here that is just the kind of contraption he would purchase for you."

My daughter gave a half smile and went back towards where she had gotten the item from. I continued waiting in line. A minute later my daughter returned.

"Mom, I talked to dad. He said I could have it, but you will have to pay for it."

Cute. Nice try.

WHAT WILL THE CHILDREN REMEMBER?

What will my children remember me as?

I wonder that often and also wonder if I am ensuring the future of America's Psychologists with the parenting I am doing.

I wonder if my children will remember me laughing. I laugh a lot. Most psychologists would probably say too much. But, I laugh. When faced with the option to laugh or cry... I will usually laugh. But will the children remember me laughing or will they remember the times that the patience was gone?

Will they remember me curled up in my bed from the days that just weren't good days, or will they remember us going hiking?

Will they remember the times I came home to a broken window or light and my only response was shaking my head or will they remember the times I was exhausted and I would yell at them for hardly anything?

Will they remember that I tried to read scriptures every night with them or will they remember the nights I forgot?

Will they look back at the times we drove by their father's grave - and I would tell them all to wave to their father as good times or that I was losing my mind?

Will they remember me as someone who was different when their dad was here than I was when he was gone? And will that different be good or bad?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

We still celebrate my husband’s birthday. We treat it just like he was here and use the opportunity to celebrate him.

A couple years ago we were returning from my son’s visit with his psychologist and we stopped at a shop that had become a favorite bakery. We had plans that afternoon to take a picnic lunch up to one of our favorite state parks and enjoy the day. As we were examining the options for a ‘birthday cake’ it became evident to the lady behind the counter that we were looking for the perfect dessert for a special occasion. She innocently asked my son, “What’s the special occasion?’ My son easily replied, “It’s my Dad’s birthday”.

We decided on a pie and my son pointed out to her the perfect one. She promptly boxed it up for us to take. She cashed us out and then sweetly commented, “Tell your dad happy birthday for me.” My son smiled and assured her that he would. As we walked out of the bakery, my son turned to me and with a wry grin and asked, “How do you think she would have reacted if I told her we were buying a birthday pie for a dead man”. I laughed. Some things are too much information for others, but we find the humor ourselves.

UNDERSTANDING

My friend ‘J’ is coming up on her five year anniversary. As the day approaches she e-mailed me this note:

As the day comes and goes that changed your life forever, you realize that no one in the world really remembers, but it is a day you can never forget for it is one of those moments that everything changed in a flash and that flash is forever embedded in your memory.

I think one thing I have gotten much better at in terms of personal growth is to be more patient with others’ actions and words. We never know what has just happened to them or what anniversary is creeping around the corner.

After Chris’ death there was many times that I would be standing in line at the grocery store looking around watching the people around me. I would stand there thinking about how strange it is. The person in line right behind me… they have no idea I have just buried my husband. But, what is their story? I began to realize that within so many of us is something… something for which an anniversary comes and goes or a terrible burden they are facing daily while the world goes on like it is a day of normalcy.

A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION

The signs were evident from the very beginning that my oldest son would not take the same path as the other two children in healing and grieving his father's death. Not that any one's path is the same - but his would be longer and more painful and difficult.

Within a couple months of Chris' death I was in contact with Hospice (or perhaps they were in contact with me). They had a wonderful woman who was working as a Counselor specifically for children. She would come to the house and talk to the children. My oldest refused to have anything to do with it. We tried the counselor at school. They pulled him out of class almost everyday to visit with the counselor. This did not seem to help either. We did things at home, that I hoped helped - but he needed more than what I could offer him. For two years this game continued. I tried to let him be - wondering if he could work through it. No. He was angry. He was angry that me and the other two children had somehow 'moved on' and forgotten. I tried to assure him, we had not forgotten. I think of Chris every day. Everyone just shows their emotions a little differently.

I asked around regarding an excellent male (I had determined he needed a male) children's psychologist who had knowledge and expertise in grieving. I didn't want someone who would classify him as depressed or some other label - I needed someone who would know what to do and how to work through this process with him. I had no luck in finding what I was looking for.

I was in for my yearly check-up with the doctor, and different that any other time I have been in for a similar appointment, the Nurse Practitioner saw me. She was interested in how things were - was I healing, were the children? I shared with her a little of what was going on and my frustration in finding what I was looking for in a Children's Psychologist. She told me that she thought she knew of someone who might help. He had a great reputation and she had heard a lot of good things about him. I eagerly accepted his contact information.

Making the phone call to his office just a day later, I inquired regarding his expertise and experience. He sounded as if he could be a match. We made our first appointment and took the hour long drive to his office. On the way up I talked with my son about how this would be a waste of time unless he wanted to feel differently. This doctor could help him, but only if he wanted to let go of some of the anger that he was feeling. He was surprisingly receptive. I was grateful.

Our first appointment went well and we established a pattern of every other week on Thursday nights or Saturday morning. The drive up provided us some quality time to visit and he was making progress. I began to see less anger, more smiling. After one year I was amazed at how far he had come. I was so grateful.

I was grateful to my Father in Heaven, for his divine intervention in giving me the nurse practitioner that day, not the doctor. For the nurse, that I had never met before, who cared enough to ask how the kids and I were doing. For a doctor, who cared and for my son being open to healing.

We had made some steps in the right direction.

FORGETTING

I remember at one point several months after my husband had passed, I was tucking the kids in for bed. At the time I would occasionally sit down with them and encourage them to write stories and memories of their dad. I remember my oldest crying, saying that he was starting to forget.

There is some truth to that...in some of the little things. The memory fades. Sometimes when I watch a home video or read from my journal - it can bring it back completely. But day to day - there is a larger, general memory of who he was. I am confident that what I have written does not say what I mean... because there are not words to explain that feeling... of losing from your grasp the fine detailed memories.

I don't think Chris was worried as he watched over us that we would forget him. He is too unforgettable. But, I am certain he was concerned about me forgetting who I was (and the kids forgetting who they are). His death changed me. There has been some positive growth, but mostly I started to lose myself somewhere in dealing with my grief, and trying to help my kids deal with theirs, and being a full-time mom, dad, and working... There was no more time for me... just this robot.

I made the comment before that I felt like I "came out of the clouds" some this year. Not just seeing peaks of sunshine - but more constant sun everyday. I don't know if it is because I came out that I found me again - or finding me again pulled me out the clouds. I am not the same person I was... but I am just starting find out who I am now and remember the good in who I was.

I laugh more now. Not to say I haven't laughed in the last five years... but laughing seemed to be something that was the "peaks of sun". When I was with friends, on a date, etc. It was no longer the everyday. But, I am finding that part of me again. I am crazy and silly and carefree. I am starting to remember.... and little by little I am becoming a new me with the past and the present gelled into one.

MY NEW CLOTHES

I didn't take too long after my husband passed before I decided to donate his clothes to good will. There were a few exceptions to this. We held out some of the clothes that had memories in them and my sister made a quilt for each of the kids out of his clothes. I love those quilts. There could not have been a better gift. I also held onto a few other pieces that just reminded me of him. One of those things was his pajamas. For the last six months of his life, he spent a lot of time in his pajamas. Whenever I am missing him or feeling incredibly lonely - there is something about sliding into those clothes and curling up on my bed in the fetal position. I can get lost in a world of remembering.