moving on – Life Doesn't Knock

Friday Favorite: I’ve Learned…

Preface: This was written just over a year ago. I have always liked this piece. For me, it is simple and to the point. When we grieve, we go back and forth between emotions (stages) and we get sort of lost and stuck. We have to take a little time to remember how to redirect ourselves. This is the way I stayed on the right path–this was my roadmap of sorts.
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I was 25 years old, thought I had my life figured out. I had dreamed of these days since I was young and now, after some hard times and a lot of growing pains, my dreams were coming true. Randy and I had the family we always wanted, his new job provided more than we had hoped for, and to top it all off, we were happy. Couldn’t ask for more than that. We knew there would always be challenges in life. Challenges that we couldn’t predict, but that was okay, because we always had each other. We never dreamed either of us would have to face life alone.

I was thrust into a new life. This new chapter, unlike the first, came with no one to guide me. Growing up, I always had my parents guidance, this time, I was the leader. While sifting through the ashes of the life I once knew, I learned many things.

Life Doesn’t Knock
I learned very quickly that life doesn’t knock. This uninvited guest walks right in and makes itself at home. Sometimes, life brings wonderful surprises that we never could have imagined. Other times, it brings our worst nightmares to life. This time was worse than any nightmare.

Losing him in a car wreck ripped my future from my grasp. Every dream I had ever dreamed, gone in a flash. Everything I thought to be true was now under a microscope. How I felt about God, my future, and even my past scrutinized every single day. Nothing made sense anymore. I quite literally had to accept my past and redesign my future.

At first, I took life step by step. Often it felt like I was walking on tiny stones across a wide angry river, hoping to get from one shore to another. One mistake and I’d drown. Over time, with help, the stones became larger and closer together as the angry river quietly receded. I made it to the other side. I built a different life, never forgetting the old.

“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us.” –Joseph Campbell

Life is Undetermined
There is no way to know when our uninvited guest will show up again. All we can do is live the best we know how with whatever surprises have been thrown our way. There is no shame in falling and no absolution for standing up again. There is a time and season for everything.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born, And a time to die;
A time to plant, And a time to pluck what is planted;
A time to kill, And a time to heal;
A time to break down, And a time to build up;
A time to weep, And a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, And a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, And a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to gain, And a time to lose;
A time to keep, And a time to throw away;
A time to tear, And a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, And a time to speak;
A time to love, And a time to hate;
A time of war, And a time of peace.

Life is Best Lived With an Open Heart
When life is full of happiness and rainbows, we let the world in. We live life outloud. We want everyone to share in our light. Maybe we even want to make sure they know our light is as bright as theirs. Living in the best of times is easy.

When life gets us down, we close ourselves off, sometimes we give up. We place blame and get angry. We shut down. No one likes to feel vulnerable and no one likes to be looking up to see someone elses light shining bright while their own barely flickers. Those gloomy, dark times are when we should open up. Open ourselves to possibilities and blessings.

When my grandparents started slipping mentally and physically, it was hard to reach out and ask for help. We wanted to close ourselves up, hide, and handle it the best we could. It came to a point where we felt like we were going to drowned if we didn’t get help. We hired a home helper. A friend of a friend. Recently, I learned that she was in a bad place before stepping in to help my grandparents. She was losing weight, had no money, and was slipping into a serious depression. We knew hiring her would help us. We knew she was in need of a job and it would help her. What we did not know was the depth our help would reach. She smiles now, she has gained some weight back, and she has found love. All of that might have happened without us. It seems from this viewpoint that both of our lights were flickering and when we combined them, it gave us both strength and our lights were shining brighter. To be honest, she would never have been my first choice, but we opened up and gave her a chance. Who knew the good that would come from that decision?

I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. –Maya Angelou

Life Continues
Our lives cannot stop because we have lost someone or something. We can’t quit going forward because we hurt or because it is difficult. We have to keep living. We have to face our fears, stare them in the eyes, and walk right past them without flinching. Once you have faced that fear and conquered it, what is there that can hold you down?

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really step to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” –Eleanor Roosevelt

We need to keep living for the things we have lost and living for the people and things yet to come. Life is meant to be lived moving forward. I don’t mean to make that sound easy, because it isn’t. It is something that is possible and things that are possible deserve a chance. There are amazing and wonderful adventures and wonderful endings for those who take a chance.

“The great courageous act we must all do, is to have the courage to step out of our history and past so that we can live our dreams.” –Oprah Winfrey

So, take that step, keep moving. Day by day things will get easier, dreams closer. Life is definitely different now, but it doesn’t have to be over. Live life, heal your wounds, and reach your dreams.

Day 54: 365 Days of Motivation for Widows

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. –Ambrose Redmoon

There will be few times more terrifying than this. Sometimes the fear is intense and sometimes it dies down to a low rumble, but it rarely leaves. Courage is there too, waiting for you to call it by name.

Like everything, this too has a designated time: when you say so. One day you will wake up and realize that no one lives in fear. You will call on courage and it will rise up, carrying you with it. The world doesn’t stop being scary–no, not at all–instead, know when you sit on the shoulders of courage, fear can never pull you down. You have made the choice to do what you should do, what you want to do, what you feel is right to do, knowing that life isn’t always sunshine. No matter what life is, courage will carry you through.

I’ve Learned…

I was 25 years old, thought I had my life figured out. I had dreamed of these days since I was young and now, after some hard times and a lot of growing pains, my dreams were coming true. Randy and I had the family we always wanted, his new job provided more than we had hoped for, and to top it all off, we were happy. Couldn’t ask for more than that. We knew there would always be challenges in life. Challenges that we couldn’t predict, but that was okay, because we always had each other. We never dreamed either of us would have to face life alone.

“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us.” –Joseph Campbell

I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. –Maya Angelou

“The great courageous act we must all do, is to have the courage to step out of our history and past so that we can live our dreams.” –Oprah Winfrey

Under Pressure

Pressure to move on. I have two thoughts on this. Thinking back, I think there are external and internal pressures–both very real.

I felt like the world was telling me to get over it already. I was still in counseling and still navigating my new world, but I felt like they were tired of it. People still couldn’t look at me without feeling sad. They still avoided me when they saw me, if they could. They even occasionally asked if I was okay or if I needed help.

More often, though, I was asked if I was dating yet, did I enroll in school, or where was I working. People wanted to see signs of progress. They wanted to know that I was doing more than laying around the house. I mean, it had been a year, I should be over it. As widows and widowers, we know that isn’t how it goes. We know it might not take that long to get our acts together, but for the most part, we are just getting started.

It didn’t even feel real for the first 6 or 7 months, at least. I mean, whose life was I living anyway? It sure wasn’t mine, or at least not the way I had planned my life in my head. Sometimes, out of habit, I would still think, “Oh, good. Randy will be home soo…” and catch myself mid-thought and suddenly remember that he would never come home again.

Loved ones and friends didn’t see those thoughts. They didn’t know what it felt like to go through this. I was supposed to be getting better. And, I was–just not on their timetable. I remember an instance (more than one, but I’ll spare you) specifically that has really stuck with me. I don’t hold on to it out of anger. I remember it because it is a clear example how different things are on the inside compared to those on the outside.

I had three kids under the age of 7 when Randy died. After, I was doing good to get out of bed in the morning, but I had to find a way to take care of the kids too. I couldn’t quit being a mom. You have to understand, during a normal time in my life, I am one together girl. I am on time, with supplies in hand. We don’t miss appointments or skip out on commitments. During the first year and a half after Randy died, I was a wreck.

Sometimes they were late for school, sometimes I couldn’t get their homework done, and often we skipped dance because I had just run out of energy or one of the other kids was sick. The baby took an extra nap sometimes. Luckily she was a sleeper and didn’t usually mind. Maybe some widows have their act together. Maybe some are really good at pretending, but I was very honest—I was doing good to tread water, I wasn’t going to worry about winning the race right now.

One night, Kayla had a Girl Scout meeting. They were having a dress rehearsal at their meeting that night. The leader, who was also a casual friend, took Kayla to the meeting for me. I was thankful to stay home. She (we’ll call her Candy) called me when she was almost to the meeting site. She wanted to know where the shirt was. Oh no. I had forgotten to send it. Big surprise. Candy continued to explain to me how insensitive I was and how she was tired of Kayla not having her stuff or needing rides.

I quite honestly couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She was right, I should have my act together, but well, my husband died and kind of put a kink in my plans. Did I tell her that? Well, yes, something close to that. It wasn’t a pretty conversation. I mean, how dare she? She continued to tell me that it was time, it had been a year. Maybe she thought I needed a wake up call, but the fact is, I was well aware. I needed no reminders or criticism. I was doing the best I could. She called a few days later and wanted to talk about it. I explained my side and she explained her side. We still couldn’t agree. Kayla finished her Girl Scout year because we finish commitments we start. Candy and I never talked again, besides pleasantries.

The real point of that story is everyone’s life moves on while ours stands still. We are on a journey they could never fathom, unless it happened to them. And, we wouldn’t wish that on anyone. We are also a painful reminder of their worst fears come true. That’s hard. If we manage to move forward and quit talking about it all, that fear can subside. Death is uncomfortable and if people don’t have to live it day in and day out, they would rather not. So, whether they mention it or not, chances are, they probably would like you to move on.

I also remember having that internal pull to quit talking about him. By the time a year had rolled around, I was missing companionship. I missed Randy terribly and I missed having a partner. Those ideas are separate ideas, but closely linked. I craved that relationship, that intimacy. I don’t mean sexual intimacy. I mean the physical and emotional intimacy that can only happen in spousal relationships. I felt like to move on, I had to push Randy aside. I didn’t know that I was willing to do that.

I mean, Randy and I didn’t separate, we weren’t divorced. He died. We were in a very committed, loving, and deeply intimate relationship until he died. How do you hold on to him and find someone new. It just doesn’t seem to work. I wasn’t sure how to move forward. I knew I couldn’t forget him and I knew I didn’t want to. I struggled for a long time with the idea of how to make it happen. I finally decided I just didn’t know how to do it, and set the question off to the side. I just kept talking about him and loving him.

I even dreamed about it. After Tim and I started dating, I had dream after dream after dream about Randy and Tim. Every dream was about Tim and I dating and then Randy would just show back up. It was as if Randy had been on a long vacation and I had cheated on him with Tim and I had to figure out who I was going to stay with. Each dream left me feeling like Randy was okay and he was going to let me do what I wanted to do.

After a while, I gave up trying to separate my relationship with Randy from my love for him. He was part of who I was. We made a life and kids. I never wanted to forget him. I did have to find a way for him to fit in my life. Tim, my current husband, helped. He told me that he understood Randy was part of my history and he was the kids’ history, too. He knew that my life with Randy helped make me who I am today and he was okay with that.

You are not crazy, there is definitely an indirect pressure to quit talking about him and move on. You need to walk your path and do what you need to do to be whole. If that makes someone uncomfortable, then that is their problem to work through. You have enough to deal with. And, as far as I am concerned, your husband will always be part of you.

If you have an internal pressure, like I did, you will find a way to dismiss it. I had to give myself permission to move on and stay true to who I know I am. I could live a happy life and not forget Randy. I knew I had to find a way to re-direct that internal pressure. Re-categorize where or how Randy fit into my life. I don’t think I set out to do it, I think it just happened. As I healed and worked through issues, Randy slowly moved into the spot he is now. He is very much a part of our lives, as is the experience itself. I could never live happily if that weren’t true. Tim had it right. He is our history and we should never forget where we came from.

Unexpected Anniversaries

It’s been 11 years since Randy died. He died August 18, 2001. It was only four days after his 26th birthday and three days before our son’s 5th birthday.

August 2002 marked one year, an anniversary I never expected to have. The anniversaries for the death of your husband, spouse, or anyone close to you are unlike any other anniversary you will experience. Usually, leading up to an anniversary, you might pick out a gift and card. Perhaps on your anniversary you might go out to dinner, movie, or just curl up on the couch together.

Death anniversaries are much different, of course. I expected to be sad and lonely on the anniversary of his death. What I did not expect was to completely shut down from the world and experience horrible anxiety for the month of August.

That first year anniversary was terrible, as you can imagine. I felt like I was losing my mind again, like I felt in the beginning stages of my journey. The panic attacks returned. They were mild, but there. I couldn’t sleep again. I didn’t return phone calls. My bills were all late. And, my kids were suffering too;I quit leaving the house for dance classes and homework suddenly wasn’t a priority. If I’m being honest, neither was showering. It was complete regression. I was seeing a counselor, but all of a sudden I could hardly make myself go. When I finally made it to the counselor, we talked about it.

She asked if I thought I was having a hard time because the anniversary of Randy’s death was getting close. My immediate reaction was “I don’t think so”. She was satisfied with that answer. Now I know she was probably hoping I would think on that and realize it was because the anniversary was looming. She was right. I left the office thinking. What if it was the anniversary. What do I do about that? How do I fix that? She and I worked on it, every week. I discovered when I left the house, I did feel a little better. I also realized I withdrew from my friends because I didn’t want to talk about Randy. I didn’t want them to notice something was wrong either.

I had started talking to Tim. We were just friends, but he was already a good support system for me. He often came over after work and we would watch movies and talk. I’m sure he noticed a difference, but I was pretty good at hiding my pain. Tim isn’t a big talker and for that whole month of August, I was glad. The night before Randy’s birthday anniversary, we were talking. I could tell he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how to say it

“Tomorrow is Randy’s birthday, right? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. As good as I can be.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. My grandma is coming over to watch Emily and give me some time. Maybe I’ll go shopping. Jewelry shopping.”

He laughed, “Yeah, right. You are going to go shopping? And you’re going to buy jewelry.”

I knew what he was getting at, I hate shopping. Now, I know that is so un-girly, but it’s true. “Yeah, I know, it’s strange for me. I think I do really want to go shopping. I think I want a nice piece of jewelry to remember.”

Still smirking, “I don’t believe you.”

“We’ll see.” I answered.

But I did what I said I was going to do, a personality trait Tim came to admire. I saw some jewelry that I had never seen before–past, present, future jewelry. That was meant to be, I was supposed to be there. I bought a sapphire past, present, future ring. It was perfect. I brought it home and he came over that night. I was in bed watching TV. I had cried, maybe off and on for hours. He laid down behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and let me keep crying. Eventually, I rolled over long enough to show him the ring, which he liked. We had a good laugh about the shopping for jewelry thing. It didn’t last long, we watched a little TV, through my tears, and eventually, I fell asleep just as I was, while he held me. I woke up the next morning in his arms.

The date of Randy’s death was the same routine, minus the jewelry shopping. Strangely, after those two days passed, I felt better. I seemed to be back on track to healing, as if I never had a detour to the journey.

The next year, towards the beginning of August, my friends called me out on my strange behavior. I couldn’t really explain it. I had felt okay. I didn’t feel like there was a reason that I would almost disappear from the world. Same with the year after, and then it dawned on me: the body and mind remembers. No matter how far removed I was from the date of his death, my body carried that pain and it resurfaces around the anniversary. On the surface, I knew the dates were coming, but I never felt like I was focused on them. I always felt like I was doing pretty good, considering. I always felt like I continued to move forward. Sure, we all have moments, even eleven years later. We miss them, but over all, we are doing good. Our lives are generally happy and life is good.

Once I became aware of what was happening, I explained to my friends. My family understood, they were experiencing the same thing. My friends made sure to try to give me some space in August, but not let me have too much space. They helped me not sink back into all the pain. They were perfect. Tim understands too. He has a terrible memory, so I often have to explain what time of year it is, but once I remind him, he is wonderful. I quit thinking about the anniversary date all together because that day is nothing but pain for me and my family. And, honestly, the more time went on, I was okay to be happy. I didn’t feel the need to make sure I was miserable as proof that I still loved him. I was going to be happy, the way I was, and think of him when I wanted to think of him. It was okay to be happy. The anniversary was not going to control me.

My subconscious mind and my body had other plans. Your body remembers, even if you don’t want it to. The last few years, I have finally been able to function through August. The feelings still surface. Because I don’t think about losing him every day anymore, it hard for me to realize what is going on. I’m a thinker though, so when I see that I am withdrawing (not returning calls, irritable, and staying it bed) I evaluate what is going on. It’s always that anniversary month. I work hard at not letting it get the best of me. Now, I control it, instead of it controlling me.

The body remembers, even if we don’t want it to or think we are doing fine. Be prepared. Cut yourself a break. It’s okay. Find something to do that gets you out of the house or re-connects you with people who love you. Just like everything concerning grief, it will get better. You have to work a bit and it isn’t easy, but you can get through it. You can get through anything. Don’t give up.

Kids Grieve Too

When Randy died, my kids were 7 years old, almost 5 years old, and 7 months old. I hoped the older two would remember their dad, but I knew there was no chance for my 7 month old to ever know her dad.

The oldest, Kayla, remembers certain things about her dad. She even remembers things I don’t. Her perspective was different from mine. She noticed things that I took for granted. When we compare notes, it’s interesting to see the differences. Together, we create a whole picture. Her memory wasn’t always so clear. After her dad died, she placed him on pedestal higher than God. No, really, she did. He was the best at everything and bad at nothing.

No one could measure up, not even me. Out of frustration, or maybe jealousy, and sometimes out of wanting a good chuckle, I would mention something about him that was not so flattering. Like, I might mention that he was really great at annoying people. So much so,his dad referred to him as ‘annoying man’. Randy would sit and flip the remote over and over or tap his fingers or whistle or anything he thought might grate on your nerves the tiniest bit…then he’d giggle. That was enough to send Kayla off the deep end. I would have to listen to all kinds of negative talk about how I must be glad he was gone and how I just wanted to date (it all stemmed back to that time period when we weren’t getting along). Eventually, as she healed, Randy joined the land of the mortals and the pedestal came tumbling down. Now, 11 years later, she can talk about the good, the annoying, and even some of his bad habits with honesty and a smile.

The important thing is, she has a whole picture. He mattered and I want her to know it, but I want her to have a healthy memory. If she left him on that pedestal, she would never be happy with a step-father, or probably any man. I didn’t want her to turn away boyfriends because she compared everyone to this unrealistic image of her father.

Brendan was just days away from his 5th birthday when Randy was killed. In fact, his party was supposed to be that day. Because Brendan was so young, I worried about his memories. I know that I remember very little from when I was four and five. I worried he would only remember the traumatic memories. I worried they would trump the good memories. I was right, they have. He remembers one or two things about his dad. What he remembers how it felt losing him, what it was like looking at him in the casket, and other things I wish he could forget.

Brendan is quieter than his siblings, much like his father. He rarely says anything, but when he does, it’s because it is important to him. Occasionally, he will ask something about his dad that we haven’t talked about. When Kayla and I talk about Randy, he is always listening. He gets very emotionally, very fast, whereas Kayla usually is a little calmer. We all have our moments, but his emotional responses come much faster. When they come, he’s done talking. His response has stayed fairly consistent since I told him his dad died.

When I told him Randy was dead, he intentionally fell asleep. It still hurts bad enough, that when emotions surface, he is out of there. There have been moments when he has asked me questions and finished the conversation, even through the tears. I see very gradual change in him. He functions well and we have had no problems with him. I do wish he had more memories and I hope if we talk about Randy enough, he will be able to picture it in his head and at least have some non-traumatic memories. Poor Emily has no memories at all.

Emily was only 7 months when Randy died. In some ways she is the luckiest of all, and in others, the most impaired. She doesn’t know the pain we knew. She doesn’t remember how terrible it was to walk that path. That’s the good and the bad news.

I often wondered as she was growing up when she would ask about Randy. When, or if, she would ever grieve him. Would she be the crazy kid who fought the law and parents her whole life because she never heard my incessant speeches about compassion, strength, and faith? Would she end up pregnant at 16 to fill the void of her dad?

I got remarried to my current husband in April 2004. It had been 3 years since Randy died. Tim entered our lives, as a friend first, when Emily was only about 16 months old. No one told any of the kids to call him dad. No one told Tim he had to be their dad. The two pieces just fell together. All of the kids think of him as dad. They tell everyone else he is their dad. When we are at home, usually the older two call him Tim. He doesn’t take place of their dad, but he is one of their dads. How lucky are they to have not only ONE dad who loved them, but to have TWO? That is amazing. I know that Randy and his family are happy to know there is a man out there, here on earth, who loves them and treats them as if they were always his. Everyone needs a dad and Tim makes a great one. Emily and Brendan do not remember a time when he wasn’t their dad. We differentiate between the two when we need to by using the names ‘Daddy Randy’ and ‘Daddy Tim’.

Since we think of Randy as their dad in Heaven and Tim as their dad on earth, we feel no need to clarify to others. Tim isn’t a step-dad and Randy isn’t the biological dad. They are both dads. How that came to be is no one’s business, but ours. When we mention ‘dad’ or ‘daddy’ to others, usually it refers to Tim.

One summer, when Emily was about 8 years old, she started talking about death a lot. She also started asking question after question about her dad. We spent every day at the pool because she was on summer swim team. One day I go strolling into the pool, sun shining bright, with the intent to grab a chair and soak up some morning sun during their two-hour practice. Before I could even get comfortable one of the other moms hurried towards me. I waited for her since it seemed important. She placed her hand on my arm with concern and said, “Oh my gosh! Emily told me her dad died.”

“What?” I said, quite confused.

“She said he was killed in car wreck.”

“Ohhhh!” I replied with a small smile.

I explained the situation. I think that mom was more concerned about Emily’s strange e obsession with her dad’s death after the explanation. I don’t think she understood what was going on with Emily.

To me, it suddenly made sense. Emily had told everyone about Randy’s death. All the concern and fascination about death and Randy all made sense. It had been almost 8 years since his death and she was grieving. Apparently, she was telling everyone we knew that her dad had died. She was going through all the questions the kids had been through. Just like Kayla and Brendan, she was concerned I would die too. She needed to picture that sad time in her mind and work through all the exact issues that the other kids had already mastered.

I worried about her, often. I wondered if I should take her to counseling, like I did with the other kids. We spent hours talking. Sometimes the topic came up at strange times, but we always talked. I answered her questions, we talked about her concerns. We talked about how it was okay to go through this and that it all would work out. I offered her the chance to go to counseling and she declined. Eventually, the topic subsided and she was content with her knowledge. The stage lasted for about 6 months.

At 12 years old, there is much unknown about her future, but some of my questions are answered. She will grieve him just like the other kids did and she will work through it and heal just like the other kids did.

Even kids walk their own path when it comes to grief. It’s our job to support them. Try not to be shocked by what they say. Kids are very direct. They are trying to figure the world out and decide how they feel about it. They are not big picture thinkers. They have little or no thought about how their words might hurt someone else. So, keep up your armor when talking to them about sensitive subjects. Talking about it might be painful for you, too. Doing it together might allow you to learn something about your child or yourself. It also might help you heal a bit more. It was always easier for me to deal with my own grief when it seemed like my kids were healing too.

However you do it, remember there are no right or wrong answers. There are no hard and fast rules. And, whatever the age of your child, they might experience their own grief and will need your support. Together, you can do anything.