In Their Heads

Would you like to know how my kids are doing? Most people would.  It's usually the question that follows 'How are you?'  The truth is that I would like to know how they're doing, too.  I wish I could spend a day or two in each one of their heads and really see what they're thinking....how they feel.  Sure, we talk and spend lots of time together, but I want to see all of this from their perspective.  They seem alright, but are they? Really?  When my youngest seems more angry than I've ever seen him over something that does not seem to warrant that kind of anger, is he thinking about why he's so angry? Can he even connect those dots between the out of control feelings he's having and the loss of his Daddy?  When one of the twins comes unglued because our schedule has changed and no one told him, does he think about how everything in his life changed just a few months ago and he has no control over that either?  When I attended all of those end of the school year award ceremonies, recitals and concerts, did my daughter think about last year's events when her Daddy was around to cheer her on?  When they have to endure the parenting moments I am not proud of, when I am not parenting with 'Love and Logic' but with fear and desperation, do they long for the balance their daddy brought to our parenting....do they wish I was more like him....or that I was him?  I don't know.  I do know this: we all love each other and there are still happy times.  Not exactly those 'all is right with the world' kinds of times, but pretty good.  One of my children (whose name will be withheld to protect the not so innocent) has told me some lies lately.  Mostly lies to get out of doing stuff he doesn't want to do (like shower or brush his teeth....boys), but lies are lies and I have a zero tolerance policy for lying.  I explained to him that when he lies I don't trust him and if I don't trust him, I need to keep my eye on him all the time, so he spent his entire day shadowing me.  Not in his plans to follow me around - cleaning bathrooms, folding laundry, loading the dishwasher, organizing my closet (I was way more productive than usual with my little shadow).  This was an interesting day for both of us - I thought it might be punishment for me, but in between the short lived pity parties he would throw for himself, I think we both sort of enjoyed being together all day.  Now don't get me wrong, he was very clear that he had other plans which were being ruined, but when he intermittently forgot about those big plans, he did things like offer to help me with whatever I was doing or chatted about things he would think of - we even found some old pictures in my closet of a vacation we took to Florida and sat in the floor of my closet looking at each one...by the end of them, we had the other 2 brothers in my closet, too.  Before you start thinking 'He's enjoying this 'discipline' a little too much', let me tell you that the clincher was when his aunt called to take the kids out for ice cream and (gasp) I said I needed him to stay with me because that was the consequence of his choice to lie to me...my mantra was 'lying leads to lack of trust which leads to lack of freedom'.  This was, of course, devastating and 'unfair' in his eyes.  Watching the others leave to have ice cream resulted in a flood of tears, anger, another long talk about lying, remorse and finally an unsolicited and sincere apology for lying accompanied by a better attitude (for the most part).  He was still anxious for his freedom and was surprised when the others returned that his sentence was not over - I had told him it was for the full day and I was sticking to it.  At bedtime, I needed to sever my new appendage, so I asked where he wanted to sleep (meaning on the couch with his brothers to watch a movie or in his own bed).  He hesitated answering and just shrugged his shoulders.  Although he never sleeps in my room, something made me ask if he wanted to sleep there (very unlikely I thought since I was offering him his first taste of freedom in 12 hours).  A huge smile spread across his face and he nodded enthusiastically.  So here he is, right by my side, reading his own book while I write about him.  I guess at the end of the day the most important thing I have to remember is that we all love each other and we miss Dan but we are still a family.  No matter how hard things get, we want to be together - that makes me feel pretty content.  

Roller Coaster

If you are reading this (and, clearly, you are) you have been invited to read my 'super secret' blog.  Don't you love oxymorons?  There may be more 'super secret' blogs that I don't know about because...well...they're 'super secret'.  However, my experience is that people write blogs because they have something they want to say and they want someone to know they're saying it.  In a previous post I said that I was blogging to allow people 'in' - difficult to do if I am too afraid to tell anyone this blog exists.  Imagine me holding my hand open, arm extended in front of me signaling you to STOP while at the same time my other hand is slightly behind the first hand, signaling you to proceed, to 'come on in'.  There are moments when I REALLY want to open up and let people in - to call someone and cry or rant about how much I miss Dan...how unfair it seems...how inadequate I feel...how exhausted I am...how lonely I am...how overwhelmed I am...BUT, in the next moment I wish I could go far away...by myself...with no one looking at me or asking me how I'm doing...never to speak of the unspeakable difficult topics again.  At times I feel like I will surely survive this...other times I think that someone with my name will survive this, but it won't be me anymore.  There are moments of hope when I am ready to fight, ready to rise above the pain...and lots of other moments when I'd be content to curl up in a ball and sleep for the duration.  I see a picture of Dan and it seems either that he has never left, that he will walk in any minute and I will be able to talk to him and see those eyes and hear his voice...or that he was never here...just a really great dream I had.  This roller coaster is exhausting.  I will be so glad you read this...then I will wish you hadn't...

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...

More Fog, Please

How long can one hover over a keyboard before actually typing something? Getting this started feels like so many other things in my life right now. I can see the value or necessity in them but it takes laser focus to just put one foot in front of the other and get anything done. I am emerging from the fog of losing Dan and find myself craving the fog. Without it, I can see more clearly what Life #2 will look like and the view is leaving a little to be desired. I was reminded the other day that God will never let go of me. It was during the course of a phone conversation. My friend said it and then repeated it again later. I was caught off guard with her reminder, not because I haven't heard it before, but because I was not in acute emotional distress and it seemed out of the blue. I can compare it to someone saying "Oh, by the way, I spoke with God this morning and He's been having a hard time reaching you so he wanted me to tell you that He will never let go of you". It wasn't, of course, out of the blue. It was out of the heart of God. I am thankful that God is still holding on to me and reaching me right where I am...even if I don't know where that is.