Charlie Brown Trees

Last summer Dan and I planted what we were told would be Hydrangeas in our backyard.  We had ordered them from the Arbor Day Foundation and when they came I was glad that the spot we had prepared for them was in the backyard...to avoid neighborhood humiliation.  Talk about some Charlie Brown trees.  They spent all summer looking like a couple of well watered sticks in the ground.  I had serious doubts about what would become of them.  Just when I had decided that a stick garden was all I was getting in return for my devotion to our pathetic little friends, Spring arrived.  With it came the beginnings of some beautiful Hydrangeas - no flowers yet, but nice green leaves all over with more showing up all the time.  I love looking out my kitchen window and seeing what we had hoped for becoming a reality.  I try to think positively and tell myself how much Dan would enjoy seeing them grow.  Tears are unpredictable and common for me right now and I will admit that I have cried more than once looking at them and wishing that he could see how they've grown.  As time marches on, there are much more significant changes taking place around our house that I desperately wish Dan were here to witness.  Today is Sam and Isaac's 13th birthday.  Does it get more important than that?  Our twin boys who, between the two of them, arrived 6 weeks early, did time in the NICU, had major feeding problems resulting in a feeding tube for 2 years, had 8 surgeries to repair "plumbing" problems, were diagnosed with ADHD and then with autism, dealt with seizures, had physical, occupational and speech therapy at one time or another, experienced public, home, online home and now private school until something finally seemed like a fit....our guys are growing and if I had to guess, I would say they will do just fine.  We put so much work and love into them and I want to be able to look at Dan, the person who was here for every moment, excrutiating or exhilarating, and just know between the two of us that it's paying off.  To remind each other that we did a good job getting this far and that we wouldn't trade our little Charlie Brown trees for anything.  Here's to you, Dan - thank you for pouring yourself into Sam and Isaac's lives with me...what we had hoped for is becoming a reality.

Pop Quiz!

You know the dream (nightmare, really) where you are a student and somewhere in the middle of the semester you realize you have somehow forgotten to attend one of your classes? I may be the only one with this dream, but the panic that sets in and the anxiety that follows is almost unbearable.  I try to stay calm and play it cool like I meant to do that but it never works out and my twisted brain always throws a pop quiz into the dream on the day I decide to show up for class (after I spend hours trying to find the classroom because I am directionally challenged whether conscious or unconscious).  I feel sometimes like this in my waking hours lately.  Dan did so much for me and for our family.  I depended on him for stuff that I didn't want to know how to do....like buy a printer, program a sprinkler system, find someone reputable and reasonably priced to replace my fence, tell the guy at the oil change place whether I want the standard or the deluxe oil change (I actually said I wanted the Deluxe as if I knew the difference and as we walked away my 14 yr. old daughter called my bluff and said 'So Mom, what IS the difference between the standard and the deluxe?' with a smartypants grin on her face).....the list goes on and on and I no longer have the luxury of being ignorant about all of the things Dan did for us.  As I learn to do all of these things (yes, I have accomplished all of those things I mentioned earlier) the feeling is most definitely bittersweet.  The more I learn to do, the more real it seems that Dan is never coming back.  I cried when my printer printed the first page because I was so happy I had actually purchased and set up a printer by myself and because....well, you know, 'by myself'...I was talking to a sweet friend recently about all of this and she said Dan would be proud of me.  It's true, he would.  I may pass this Pop Quiz after all.

T Minus 1 Day

I was looking through my journal today and found this entry. I wrote this the day before Dan died. Although he was sick and on hospice, his death still seemed sudden because he was very much himself, even while confined to his bed. The month he spent here on hospice felt like limbo because he seemed to stabilize once he got home and I think all of us closest to him had convinced ourselves that he might be around longer than we thought we could hope for. We were immensely blessed to have that time with him, but reading this made me remember how confusung that time was because I didn't know what to expect. "So, I find myself feeling disoriented.  Dan knows how I feel.  Dan has brain tumors that are trying to kill him and with all the meds he's on, he has begun to have a hard time distinguishing dreams or hallucinations from reality.  I've watched him wake up and be so confused and upset because he's not sure what is real, what is a dream, if it's night or day...a scary and frustrating feeling. When I stop long enough to try and figure out where I am these days, I find myself emotionally, spiritually and relationally disoriented.  Is my old life over? What will the new one look like? Am I a wife, a caretaker, a widow? Am I sad, hopeful, in despair, numb? Is God quietly observing, is He sad, is He pulling me to himself, is He nudging me forward, am I doing this right?" Still not sure if I'm doing this right and some days I'm convinced I am most certainly NOT doing this right. But I know what the answer is, 'Everyone grieves differently and there is no 'right' way'. Well, that's a frustrating answer for a perfectionist who is very hard on herself. One thing I am trying to do better is let people in on my grief...let people help me. That's why I'm blogging, to let people in. So...come on in. Be warned, it's messy in here...