I was riding in the car with Micah. It was one of those how in the heck do we do it kind of days. I went to a training at work. Left the training picked the kids up for dentist appointments, left there for counseling, dropped Phoebe off at the barn and was finally heading home. Decided I was spent and stopped for some KFC for dinner. If you ever go to KFC in Salisbury, you know it is the slowest fast food on the planet. So we had plenty of time to wait. In that time, the sheer exhaustion came out and I said that I was not doing this single parent thing very well. Micah questioned me. I went on one of my dialogues that I am not sure anyone listens to and more pitifully, I am not sure I care. Eventually I made a proclamation.
I am not failing at parenting.
I am a really great mom. I nurture, I love, I am there for my kids.
I am a terrible dad. I can't follow through on punishments. I am inconsistent. I am not firm, but erratic.
Micah looked at me. It was quiet for a minute as we both pondered what I had just said. All of a sudden he is crying. I am looking at him. Whoa......this one never shows any emotion other than anger. He says, "The last thing I said was I'll see you after school". I said, "me too". He then said something that hit me so deep down. He said, "You and dad used to fight." I told him that we did and that couples do that some times. He told me that at one point he thought we were going to get divorced.
I was speechless.
Rocky and I didn't fight often but when we did, we did it well. And apparently loud.
Micah and I talked. I told him that our move to Gumboro was really stressful. I shared that I have had to deal with the stress the move put on our family at the time he died. That it was something I had to process and deal with. I told him that couples fight and I am so sorry that he ever thought we wouldn't stay together. I told him that his father and I loved each other and were committed to make it work. I told him that his father loved him. And that I loved him very much.
He said, "Can you order tacos with that chicken?" And like that the moment was gone and he had moved on.
Told you the KFC was slow.
I am thankful for that moment. I am thankful that he shared. I am thankful that I understand.
I am not a bad parent. I am a great mom. I am not so good at being dad. I am learning to be both.
Monday, October 5, 2015
Remebering that day
I don't want to forget details so I am just going to remember that day. February 25, 2014. The day that altered my reality.
Like any other day. We woke up and I and left for work. Rocky would follow me into town about an hour later to take the kids to school. My day was normal. We actually, my students were on a field trip to Baltimore and I had a very casual, uneventful day at work. The building was quiet and my work load was light. It was towards the end of the day so I was in my planning time. I get a phone call to come to the office. My first thought, what have I done now? Not that I get called to the principals office a lot but when the call does come to have to wonder why. Is some parent complaining? Did you open your big mouth again? I get to the office and Bud Nichols, a friend, was in the office with the deputy. They immediately wanted to take me somewhere we could talk. Weird. We go the deputy's office and Bud tells me that Rocky is in an ambulance on the way to PRMC. I immediately say, "its his heart." How did I know that? Two days prior, we were finally emptying the attic of our house. We have moved two months before (that is a whole different story). When Rocky went to put a box on the trailer he paused and grabbed his chest. I remember asking if he was Ok and he said he was fine. That moment in the office with Bud I knew that that moment at the trailer was something more. My mind raced thinking about my strong man sick in bed at the hospital with heart disease. I began thinking about the kids and how I would manage with them during his recovery. I wondered how long the recovery would be. You see, this was the only thing I was thinking.
Bud wouldn't let me drive myself to the hospital. He said he was told to take me and I thought it was silly but knew he was following the directions of Colleen, his wife, and far be it from me to force a man to not follow the instructions given to him. We get to the ER and Bud speaks for me that my husband is coming in an ambulance. The woman looks at the screen and says he is on his way. She was somber but I thought nothing of it. In hindsight, I know her screen told her what was about to happen in my life. The timing was crazy because Bud had to leave to pick up our children from school. I asked him to take them home to his house so I could determine how sick my husband was and how I was going to proceed. The women at the screen suggested I sit out with her and not go into the normal waiting room. More hindsight, she didn't want me to be alone. She knew. After maybe ten minutes that seemed like an hour. I was asked to come into the family room. I didn't know that this was the place they took you to share bad news. I gladly went still just wanted to see my husband. I sat there alone for what felt like an eternity. A nurse entered, an ER doctor entered, clergy entered. They introduced themselves. Note, if clergy ever comes in the family room, run like hell the outcome is not good. So I was in this room with these three people . The clergy sat behind me, the nurse next to me and the doctor in front of me. You could feel the collective deep breath these people took. It sucked the air right out of the room. The doctor looked me in the eyes and I knew. I told him not to speak, that if he didn't say it, it would not be real. He said it. Time stopped. He said the people in the ambulance had been working on Rocky for almost an hour with no response. He was sorry. My first words, "the children". Oh my god, what am I going to do. This can't be real. This isn't happening. This can't possibly be my reality. The clergy lady began to speak. I immediately didn't like her. Empty words. Lies. She told me the children would always remember their dad and he would live forever in them. I told her she was a liar, the twins were only 5 and they would not remember. I told her people forget details. I told her I have forgotten a lot about my dad and I was a lot older than any of my kids when he died. She learned to stop talking. Thank God for that.
My friend Elaine, who we were currently renting from and Rocky was working her chicken houses, came into the room. She held me. I cried. They finally let me go to Rocky. At that point, Elaine took my phone and got to work. She called Rocky's family. She called my family. She called the church. She took the drivers seat and I will be forever grateful for that.
I was led into a room. My husband lay on a gurney with the breathing apparatus still in his mouth. The sheet was up on his chest. He was pale. The initial sight took my breath away and I fell to the floor. This wasn't real. This wasn't my life. This couldn't possibly be my man lying here. Dead. It was. A nurse lifted me up and brought a chair next to him so I could sit. He was covered in feathers. There were feathers everywhere. If it wasn't so damn horrific it may have been funny. All those feathers. In his hair. In that crazy beard he had grown. I sat there and brushed the feathers out of his hair with my fingers. I talked to him.
People started coming. The first people to come back other than Elaine was my pastors. They all came. You see, this was so shocking that they all came. Their reactions and responses so different. Pastor Bill did a lot of pacing. And he would run his hand through his hair. I don't see him do that often and assume it is his internal stress reaction. He would ask questions and pace some more. Most of the answers I had to his questions were, I don't know. What about insurance? I don't know. How are you going to handle the kids? I don't know. I don't know. For the first time in my life, I knew nothing and had no clue what to do next. It is those moments that I am thankful for him. He turned to people and got things done. He asked the right questions. I didn't know. Pastor Mark held me to his side and cried. A steam of tears with no beginning and no end. Tears and occasionally he would shake his head in disbelief. The stream of tears stuck to me the most. It seemed never ending. It was so profound. Pastor Tab looked the most shocked. He shook his head and wanted to say something to sooth me, knowing there was nothing to say. So he didn't and that was ok.
Elaine brought Rocky's mom in the room. I had moved back to give her space with her son. At this moment my strong husband was her little boy. She just stared. Then she said, "I was supposed to die first". So simple. A mother doesn't plan to lose her child. It is a given that she will die first. Jay and Christine were both there with their mom. They too looked shocked. They were speechless. There is really nothing to say. No of us usually have nothing to say but in that moment, there were no words. They didn't stay long. I don't think Rocky's mom could handle looking at him any longer. I get that. I was torn between looking away and never wanting to take my eyes off of him again. What do you do?
As time passed, more people came. People from church, friends, Rocky's family. I was just there. I was numb. People said things. Don't ask me what. Finally, Pastor Bill asked me if I wanted all these people there? No. He sent them away. Thank God for that.
I knew right away I wanted an autopsy. I had to know. I was told not to request it but let them say they wanted it. That way the state would pay for it. Again, Pastor Bill took the lead. As the representative from the medical examiners office came in and asked questions, Pastor Bill and everyone left the room. It was her, Rocky and I alone now. She was very pregnant and I couldn't help thinking about the circle of life. I was losing the love of my life and she was carrying all of her dreams in her womb. Crazy, huh? She asked lots of questions and then left the room. Eventually, she came back and said they were going to take Rocky to Baltimore to perform an autopsy. It was what I wanted. After that it was time for me to say goodbye and leave the room. How do you walk away? My feet became lead. If I leave, it is over. If I stay, I can remain in this state of confusion. Confusion seemed the better choice. I walked down the hall. I left him there. I was lost.
The children? How do I tell the children? That became the new focus. Not today, I can't write any more. That story will come.
Like any other day. We woke up and I and left for work. Rocky would follow me into town about an hour later to take the kids to school. My day was normal. We actually, my students were on a field trip to Baltimore and I had a very casual, uneventful day at work. The building was quiet and my work load was light. It was towards the end of the day so I was in my planning time. I get a phone call to come to the office. My first thought, what have I done now? Not that I get called to the principals office a lot but when the call does come to have to wonder why. Is some parent complaining? Did you open your big mouth again? I get to the office and Bud Nichols, a friend, was in the office with the deputy. They immediately wanted to take me somewhere we could talk. Weird. We go the deputy's office and Bud tells me that Rocky is in an ambulance on the way to PRMC. I immediately say, "its his heart." How did I know that? Two days prior, we were finally emptying the attic of our house. We have moved two months before (that is a whole different story). When Rocky went to put a box on the trailer he paused and grabbed his chest. I remember asking if he was Ok and he said he was fine. That moment in the office with Bud I knew that that moment at the trailer was something more. My mind raced thinking about my strong man sick in bed at the hospital with heart disease. I began thinking about the kids and how I would manage with them during his recovery. I wondered how long the recovery would be. You see, this was the only thing I was thinking.
Bud wouldn't let me drive myself to the hospital. He said he was told to take me and I thought it was silly but knew he was following the directions of Colleen, his wife, and far be it from me to force a man to not follow the instructions given to him. We get to the ER and Bud speaks for me that my husband is coming in an ambulance. The woman looks at the screen and says he is on his way. She was somber but I thought nothing of it. In hindsight, I know her screen told her what was about to happen in my life. The timing was crazy because Bud had to leave to pick up our children from school. I asked him to take them home to his house so I could determine how sick my husband was and how I was going to proceed. The women at the screen suggested I sit out with her and not go into the normal waiting room. More hindsight, she didn't want me to be alone. She knew. After maybe ten minutes that seemed like an hour. I was asked to come into the family room. I didn't know that this was the place they took you to share bad news. I gladly went still just wanted to see my husband. I sat there alone for what felt like an eternity. A nurse entered, an ER doctor entered, clergy entered. They introduced themselves. Note, if clergy ever comes in the family room, run like hell the outcome is not good. So I was in this room with these three people . The clergy sat behind me, the nurse next to me and the doctor in front of me. You could feel the collective deep breath these people took. It sucked the air right out of the room. The doctor looked me in the eyes and I knew. I told him not to speak, that if he didn't say it, it would not be real. He said it. Time stopped. He said the people in the ambulance had been working on Rocky for almost an hour with no response. He was sorry. My first words, "the children". Oh my god, what am I going to do. This can't be real. This isn't happening. This can't possibly be my reality. The clergy lady began to speak. I immediately didn't like her. Empty words. Lies. She told me the children would always remember their dad and he would live forever in them. I told her she was a liar, the twins were only 5 and they would not remember. I told her people forget details. I told her I have forgotten a lot about my dad and I was a lot older than any of my kids when he died. She learned to stop talking. Thank God for that.
My friend Elaine, who we were currently renting from and Rocky was working her chicken houses, came into the room. She held me. I cried. They finally let me go to Rocky. At that point, Elaine took my phone and got to work. She called Rocky's family. She called my family. She called the church. She took the drivers seat and I will be forever grateful for that.
I was led into a room. My husband lay on a gurney with the breathing apparatus still in his mouth. The sheet was up on his chest. He was pale. The initial sight took my breath away and I fell to the floor. This wasn't real. This wasn't my life. This couldn't possibly be my man lying here. Dead. It was. A nurse lifted me up and brought a chair next to him so I could sit. He was covered in feathers. There were feathers everywhere. If it wasn't so damn horrific it may have been funny. All those feathers. In his hair. In that crazy beard he had grown. I sat there and brushed the feathers out of his hair with my fingers. I talked to him.
People started coming. The first people to come back other than Elaine was my pastors. They all came. You see, this was so shocking that they all came. Their reactions and responses so different. Pastor Bill did a lot of pacing. And he would run his hand through his hair. I don't see him do that often and assume it is his internal stress reaction. He would ask questions and pace some more. Most of the answers I had to his questions were, I don't know. What about insurance? I don't know. How are you going to handle the kids? I don't know. I don't know. For the first time in my life, I knew nothing and had no clue what to do next. It is those moments that I am thankful for him. He turned to people and got things done. He asked the right questions. I didn't know. Pastor Mark held me to his side and cried. A steam of tears with no beginning and no end. Tears and occasionally he would shake his head in disbelief. The stream of tears stuck to me the most. It seemed never ending. It was so profound. Pastor Tab looked the most shocked. He shook his head and wanted to say something to sooth me, knowing there was nothing to say. So he didn't and that was ok.
Elaine brought Rocky's mom in the room. I had moved back to give her space with her son. At this moment my strong husband was her little boy. She just stared. Then she said, "I was supposed to die first". So simple. A mother doesn't plan to lose her child. It is a given that she will die first. Jay and Christine were both there with their mom. They too looked shocked. They were speechless. There is really nothing to say. No of us usually have nothing to say but in that moment, there were no words. They didn't stay long. I don't think Rocky's mom could handle looking at him any longer. I get that. I was torn between looking away and never wanting to take my eyes off of him again. What do you do?
As time passed, more people came. People from church, friends, Rocky's family. I was just there. I was numb. People said things. Don't ask me what. Finally, Pastor Bill asked me if I wanted all these people there? No. He sent them away. Thank God for that.
I knew right away I wanted an autopsy. I had to know. I was told not to request it but let them say they wanted it. That way the state would pay for it. Again, Pastor Bill took the lead. As the representative from the medical examiners office came in and asked questions, Pastor Bill and everyone left the room. It was her, Rocky and I alone now. She was very pregnant and I couldn't help thinking about the circle of life. I was losing the love of my life and she was carrying all of her dreams in her womb. Crazy, huh? She asked lots of questions and then left the room. Eventually, she came back and said they were going to take Rocky to Baltimore to perform an autopsy. It was what I wanted. After that it was time for me to say goodbye and leave the room. How do you walk away? My feet became lead. If I leave, it is over. If I stay, I can remain in this state of confusion. Confusion seemed the better choice. I walked down the hall. I left him there. I was lost.
The children? How do I tell the children? That became the new focus. Not today, I can't write any more. That story will come.
Monday, September 21, 2015
Keeping It Real
We were driving home today from a family reunion and drove past the cemetery where Rocky is buried. My daughter wanted to stop. So I turned around and went to the grave. The six of us sat down around the grave and talked. The children shared their memories of the day he died. It was a movie moment. We were talking so plainly, just remembering. After some time, three of the boys wandered off to play on a dirt pile at the cemetery. They can only handle so much emotion. Phoebe, Samuel and I kept talking. Samuel shared that he was upset with me for not having Ms. Colleen bring them to the hospital. I told him it was not a good place for children. He told me that it was a wrong decision and that he wished he was there. As I shared that I was overwhelmed and burdened with so many decisions at that time and did the best I could, he just listened. I shared mistakes I felt I made. That I wish I had different people there when they were told. I shared how hard it was. I told them the breathing tube was in his mouth and it was not a pretty sight. I told them there were nurses everywhere. I asked them to forgive me for mistakes I made. I did my best. There is no perfect way to handle a situation and I did my best.
As I reflect, the most important part of that conversation was that they asked questions. They shared their thoughts. They talked to me. The ones that walked away to play are the ones struggling the most. They don’t talk about it. I think the twins don’t remember a lot of details but Micah. I don’t know. He doesn’t want to talk, never was a talker even when Rocky was alive. He is the one hurting. It is inside and he won’t let it out. I pray that we keep talking and he keeps hearing us and one day, hopefully soon, he finds the release that he needs. It needs to happen.
I am thankful that we continue to talk. I am thankful that we love each other. I am thankful that we are still processing and growing. I am thankful for my family.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Its a Private Life
I have been insanely skeptical of Facebook since Rocky died.
It started with the fact that Facebook was burning up with the news before my children were even told. I have researched and know the first person who posted it. And the second for that matter. They were out of line. I remember being in the hospital and seeing and hearing about all the posts. I had asked how all the people who showed up at the hospital knew what was going on. I was told Facebook. Well meaning people making my business public before I was ready. That evening, my principal called and wanted to know how I wanted to tell the staff. My response, "They already know, it is all over Facebook". She said that made her sad. Me too.
Then, I received over 50 friend requests within 24 hours of his death. I called these people my Facebook voyeurs. Most of whom are still sitting in my friend request page. I didn't become their friends. If we weren't friends before my life became so interesting why do they want to be my friends now?
Then, the "friends". The people on my page. The ones who claimed what a great friend I was and how heartbroken they were. Some of these people I really didn't know. About 6 months later, I deleted a lot of these "friends". At this point, no one commented to me anymore until I posted something. Anything. Then they all piped in again and it confused me. I am alone, sinking, lost, and confused. These people publicly claimed to care. I got angry. I stopped posting. If you cared you would call. If you cared, you would ask how I was. If you cared, you would greet me Sunday morning. If you cared......you would do anything but wait for a Facebook post to respond to.
Facebook is not real. Facebook has nothing to do with friends. Facebook is shallow. Facebook is where you can know what is going on (only in a way that people allow) and you feel in the loop. Facebook is anything but social.
This is why I do not wish happy birthday on Facebook. If I don't know you well enough to have your number and send you a text or give you a call, I am not clouding your wall. Maybe I am wrong, but it is the decision I made.
I am not giving the voyeurs a glimpse into my children's world. If they cared, they would ask. I am doing my best to preserve my children and the life we have to live. It is hard and it is not charming. I can't paint it in a rainbows and unicorns way that is the Facebook status quo. Our lives are messy. Our lives are real.
OK, so why am I still on Facebook? I ask myself that question every day. I am not sure. I think it is an addiction. I think the fleshly side of me feels I will miss something. I struggle with it. It makes me judge. It makes me mad. It makes me question people.
One day I will be strong enough to leave it. Maybe.
It started with the fact that Facebook was burning up with the news before my children were even told. I have researched and know the first person who posted it. And the second for that matter. They were out of line. I remember being in the hospital and seeing and hearing about all the posts. I had asked how all the people who showed up at the hospital knew what was going on. I was told Facebook. Well meaning people making my business public before I was ready. That evening, my principal called and wanted to know how I wanted to tell the staff. My response, "They already know, it is all over Facebook". She said that made her sad. Me too.
Then, I received over 50 friend requests within 24 hours of his death. I called these people my Facebook voyeurs. Most of whom are still sitting in my friend request page. I didn't become their friends. If we weren't friends before my life became so interesting why do they want to be my friends now?
Then, the "friends". The people on my page. The ones who claimed what a great friend I was and how heartbroken they were. Some of these people I really didn't know. About 6 months later, I deleted a lot of these "friends". At this point, no one commented to me anymore until I posted something. Anything. Then they all piped in again and it confused me. I am alone, sinking, lost, and confused. These people publicly claimed to care. I got angry. I stopped posting. If you cared you would call. If you cared, you would ask how I was. If you cared, you would greet me Sunday morning. If you cared......you would do anything but wait for a Facebook post to respond to.
Facebook is not real. Facebook has nothing to do with friends. Facebook is shallow. Facebook is where you can know what is going on (only in a way that people allow) and you feel in the loop. Facebook is anything but social.
This is why I do not wish happy birthday on Facebook. If I don't know you well enough to have your number and send you a text or give you a call, I am not clouding your wall. Maybe I am wrong, but it is the decision I made.
I am not giving the voyeurs a glimpse into my children's world. If they cared, they would ask. I am doing my best to preserve my children and the life we have to live. It is hard and it is not charming. I can't paint it in a rainbows and unicorns way that is the Facebook status quo. Our lives are messy. Our lives are real.
OK, so why am I still on Facebook? I ask myself that question every day. I am not sure. I think it is an addiction. I think the fleshly side of me feels I will miss something. I struggle with it. It makes me judge. It makes me mad. It makes me question people.
One day I will be strong enough to leave it. Maybe.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Just Five Words
As a family we were preparing for a day at the beach. My thoughts were a few hours in the ocean and then hit the boardwalk. Sound great, right. Somehow, getting out the door something went terribly wrong. It started with me.
As we are loading the car the kids inform me that they don't want to go in the ocean. I want to sit on the beach. So I did what any self respecting mother would do and had an adult temper tantrum. It was the beach but also, my son was talking to a neighbor just a few minutes before. This particular neighbor is fairly clueless to my life and as a result has said some insanely hurtful and insensitive things to me. So, needless to say my kids shouldn't talk with someone who I have issues with, right? I know, so two instances that reveal the maturity level of my day. Not my finest moments but hold on. I would not just write about that. Although these things are petty, they set off a rant from me unparalleled to any madness I had previously displayed. I completely lost it.
I went off on me to my children. I told them how insecure I was about my weight, my future, my life. I went on about how lonely I was and how angry I was that I had to parent them alone. I went off on how impossible I was finding each day to be. I told them how insecure I am in my relationships and how I feel let down and abandoned by everyone in my life. I went off. Not a quiet dissertation on all that is wrong with me. A screaming, cussing, over the top rant. Of course I had to add how messy their rooms were and why are there still bike parts on the yard (relevant, right?). It was madness. I own that.
Like the wise children that they are, they scattered. It made me angry at the time, but really they were utilizing strategies I had taught them when madness strikes. Finally, after a few breaths and inner questioning about what had just happened, my son rides his bike back up the driveway. I asked where he went and why he rode off. His response was just five words.
I was mad at you.
Those words were delivered with tears in his eyes. Those words were delivered straight to my heart. Those words said more to me than anyone can possibly imagine.
First, my son could see through all I said and eloquently and directly deliver his feeling back. Wow.
Second, what he said was so much more. He said, mom we need you. We depend on you for our strength and what are we supposed to do when you don't believe in yourself. He said, mom we believe in you. He said mom, you are loved. You are special and the moment you feel lonely or desperate remember us. He said, remember the ones that do care. The ones that have come to our rescue. He said you are child of God and he has never left you. He reminded me to appreciate the moment we were in and live it the best way possible. He said, you are our mom and that makes you everything to us.
Ok, adequately humbled. I called the people from their hiding places and had them hold hands in a circle. Some didn't want to touch others but I held it together. I apologized and told them I made a major mommy mistake (not the first and I am sure not the last). We prayed that God would restore peace and happiness to our home.
Then, we left for the beach. We played in the waves, ate Thrashers and Dumsers (the only proper dinner after such a mommy snafu), we rode rides and we laughed. Just five words spoke to my soul. No guarantee that I will never again walk off the ledge, but I have a family that loves me unconditionally. I have a God that loves me even more. Just Five Words and a total perspective shift. I was mad at you.
As we are loading the car the kids inform me that they don't want to go in the ocean. I want to sit on the beach. So I did what any self respecting mother would do and had an adult temper tantrum. It was the beach but also, my son was talking to a neighbor just a few minutes before. This particular neighbor is fairly clueless to my life and as a result has said some insanely hurtful and insensitive things to me. So, needless to say my kids shouldn't talk with someone who I have issues with, right? I know, so two instances that reveal the maturity level of my day. Not my finest moments but hold on. I would not just write about that. Although these things are petty, they set off a rant from me unparalleled to any madness I had previously displayed. I completely lost it.
I went off on me to my children. I told them how insecure I was about my weight, my future, my life. I went on about how lonely I was and how angry I was that I had to parent them alone. I went off on how impossible I was finding each day to be. I told them how insecure I am in my relationships and how I feel let down and abandoned by everyone in my life. I went off. Not a quiet dissertation on all that is wrong with me. A screaming, cussing, over the top rant. Of course I had to add how messy their rooms were and why are there still bike parts on the yard (relevant, right?). It was madness. I own that.
Like the wise children that they are, they scattered. It made me angry at the time, but really they were utilizing strategies I had taught them when madness strikes. Finally, after a few breaths and inner questioning about what had just happened, my son rides his bike back up the driveway. I asked where he went and why he rode off. His response was just five words.
I was mad at you.
Those words were delivered with tears in his eyes. Those words were delivered straight to my heart. Those words said more to me than anyone can possibly imagine.
First, my son could see through all I said and eloquently and directly deliver his feeling back. Wow.
Second, what he said was so much more. He said, mom we need you. We depend on you for our strength and what are we supposed to do when you don't believe in yourself. He said, mom we believe in you. He said mom, you are loved. You are special and the moment you feel lonely or desperate remember us. He said, remember the ones that do care. The ones that have come to our rescue. He said you are child of God and he has never left you. He reminded me to appreciate the moment we were in and live it the best way possible. He said, you are our mom and that makes you everything to us.
Ok, adequately humbled. I called the people from their hiding places and had them hold hands in a circle. Some didn't want to touch others but I held it together. I apologized and told them I made a major mommy mistake (not the first and I am sure not the last). We prayed that God would restore peace and happiness to our home.
Then, we left for the beach. We played in the waves, ate Thrashers and Dumsers (the only proper dinner after such a mommy snafu), we rode rides and we laughed. Just five words spoke to my soul. No guarantee that I will never again walk off the ledge, but I have a family that loves me unconditionally. I have a God that loves me even more. Just Five Words and a total perspective shift. I was mad at you.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Revelation
My husband is dead. I know, you already know this, but would you believe that even after almost 17 months I still wake up some days with this revelation. Some days it is like a new realization. Some days, I think it and remind myself that I got this. Some days, I think it and God tells me we got this. Some days, I feel like I am drowning in the Hudson River with weights tied to my feet (to many movies, I know). I remind myself of how far we have come. I remind myself of the things I have accomplished that I never would have dreamed. Some days I remember all the decisions yet to make. Some days it is new. Some days it is not. Everyday it is my reality.
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
If you need me
After Rocky died, people had the best of intentions. They said, "call me if you need anything". They meant it. Many had a need to emphasize how much they meant it. Saying that they know everyone says it but they are the real deal. I can't even begin to tell you how many people professed to be the real deal.
Then, there was another group of people. These said I know you are strong and fairly private so you will let me know when you want me to step in. These are the people who knew me better and knew just how stubborn I could be. They used my personality as their out. At least that's how I see it. Oh, she is strong. She has this. She will let us know what to do. She wouldn't want me to interfere. I don't want to make her angry or step on her toes. I will just wait in the wings until she tells me she needs something. To be honest, what a cop out!
Here is the analogy.
You are on a boat in the ocean and someone falls overboard. You know this person knows how to swim so you just watch. The boat is moving farther away. You yell to the person. "Hey, if you think you need a life ring just let me know. I am right here ready to throw it as soon as you say so." Does that make sense? Absolutely not. You see the person struggle but you watch and wait. You don't call for help or send the life ring, you are watching them sink. I don't think I know a single person who would not immediately call for help and throw the ring.
So why is it when we are drowning in life, no one throws the ring. The person in the water is panicked. The person in the water is giving every ounce of their effort to just stay floating above water. The person sinking is scared. For the love of God, throw the life ring. Be the support.
Lip service is just that. Be willing to jump in if necessary.
Then, there was another group of people. These said I know you are strong and fairly private so you will let me know when you want me to step in. These are the people who knew me better and knew just how stubborn I could be. They used my personality as their out. At least that's how I see it. Oh, she is strong. She has this. She will let us know what to do. She wouldn't want me to interfere. I don't want to make her angry or step on her toes. I will just wait in the wings until she tells me she needs something. To be honest, what a cop out!
Here is the analogy.
You are on a boat in the ocean and someone falls overboard. You know this person knows how to swim so you just watch. The boat is moving farther away. You yell to the person. "Hey, if you think you need a life ring just let me know. I am right here ready to throw it as soon as you say so." Does that make sense? Absolutely not. You see the person struggle but you watch and wait. You don't call for help or send the life ring, you are watching them sink. I don't think I know a single person who would not immediately call for help and throw the ring.
So why is it when we are drowning in life, no one throws the ring. The person in the water is panicked. The person in the water is giving every ounce of their effort to just stay floating above water. The person sinking is scared. For the love of God, throw the life ring. Be the support.
Lip service is just that. Be willing to jump in if necessary.
Friday, June 5, 2015
Summer
Well, summer is almost here. If you know anything about me, you know I cherish summer. Time with my family to focus on the ones I love. To enjoy lazy days and find great adventures. To remember all that matters. To refuel for the job I have been called to do 10 months out of the year. To sleep. To laugh. To be incredibly spontaneous. I love hiking, the beach, the river, bike riding and long walks.
Last summer, the first day of summer was torture. It was the day I realized Rocky was really gone. I know June is several months past February, but I had gone into survival mode and hadn't processed my reality. You see, all the fun things I did were done as a family. Rocky always behind the wheel guiding us into some great adventure. I remember walking out to the shed and falling on the floor. I was there for hours. I remember sitting in his truck and remembering. I remember moving to his van and remembering. It hit me like a ton of bricks. It was real. There was no schedule to keep me busy, no papers to grade. Just my reality. It had been there all along but I was choosing to ignore it. Summer......it came crashing down all around me.
Then I remembered that I did not die on February 25. My life was altered forever, sure. My kids had a new lens on life, absolutely. We had to find a new way to happiness. We did. We made new memories. We went on different types of adventures. We lived. As the summer approaches I remember this . It would be easy to fall into a victim status. It would be easy to get lost in despair. I refuse. I can feel the tug, but I refuse to give in. I choose life. I want to continue to live the life that Rocky would have wanted for us. So, this summer.....watch out. The Klaverweiden's are living!
Last summer, the first day of summer was torture. It was the day I realized Rocky was really gone. I know June is several months past February, but I had gone into survival mode and hadn't processed my reality. You see, all the fun things I did were done as a family. Rocky always behind the wheel guiding us into some great adventure. I remember walking out to the shed and falling on the floor. I was there for hours. I remember sitting in his truck and remembering. I remember moving to his van and remembering. It hit me like a ton of bricks. It was real. There was no schedule to keep me busy, no papers to grade. Just my reality. It had been there all along but I was choosing to ignore it. Summer......it came crashing down all around me.
Then I remembered that I did not die on February 25. My life was altered forever, sure. My kids had a new lens on life, absolutely. We had to find a new way to happiness. We did. We made new memories. We went on different types of adventures. We lived. As the summer approaches I remember this . It would be easy to fall into a victim status. It would be easy to get lost in despair. I refuse. I can feel the tug, but I refuse to give in. I choose life. I want to continue to live the life that Rocky would have wanted for us. So, this summer.....watch out. The Klaverweiden's are living!
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Fog
I read over and over again that the second year post lost is harder than the first. My thoughts were, how in the hell is that possible? I have ached with something so indescribable for over a year now. It can't get worse, can it? I have decided that it is not worse, but it is distinctly different. It is harder on some levels because you see it.
Let me explain. Imagine you are driving to work one foggy morning (teachers ignore:)) and you really can't see in front of you. You know you need to get to your destination so you slowly move forward unable to see where you are going or what may lie in front of you. You are praying without ceasing. You are so unsure. You are scared and nervous. You are holding tight to the steering wheel and have double checked your seat belt. Only God can keep you safe now, so you have absolute trust in Him because you really have no other choice in the matter. God sends people to do so many things for you. You really don't even have to ask. Things just happen. You know that God has the wheel and is steering. It is truly blind faith. Not because you choose it but because you have 0% visibility.
Now, a year later the fog has lifted. Not completely but there is visibility. You can see the road in front of you. You are still scared and nervous but you see what needs to be done. It is overwhelming. So many other cars, so many people. Where do you begin? People can tell you can see so they stop coming. You understand. Days you love that they are gone and days you are angry they left. But you see and this is the part that is harder. You still trust God has the wheel but sometimes you try to steer, because you can see. You still know that you are weak, but you appear strong because you can see. The sight is hard. It was almost easier in the dense fog. The lost place. The unknown.
The fog is lifting and now it is time to learn how to drive and still trust God. So different, but yet so hard.
Sunday, April 5, 2015
New Beginnings.....New Hope.......Sunday is Here!
Today my son chose to be baptized in the faith. Today, it was not only symbolic of his life with Jesus but it also meant he is ready to step forward in a new life. We have lived in our Saturday for a long time now. We have lived between Good Friday and the questions of loss and pain. The place of realizing that the future was not going to look like we had planned. The place of wondering how God was going to rewrite our future. The place of despair. We have never lost the faith. We know God is in control but we have no idea what that is going to look like. We can't even envision it. We can't even imagine the complete unknown. We can't see the resurrection of our lives. The new beginnings. The new hope. Today we tried to grab it. We took this Easter Sunday and stepped out in faith. We are ready for new. We are trusting God. Samuel took it to a full level publicly choosing baptism. He said I am ready to accept the resurrection and the next that God has ordained for me. He said it is time to leave Saturday and live in the Sunday. He reminded me that there is so much life still to live and it is best to follow the path the Lord has laid out for us. He reminded me that it is time to put my faith in action. He reminded me that Jesus died so we could live. Every step is scary but I am developing a great anticipation for what is next.
Pastor Bill whispered in his ear how proud his father would be of him.
New Beginnings.......Let's Do This Thing.
Friday, April 3, 2015
Guilt
So were sitting at the table talking and somehow Rocky's funeral became the topic of conversation. I shared that I wished we had filmed the entire receiving line. I wanted to see who was there and what my reaction was to each person. I don't know why, perhaps because I have been doing a lot of self-reflecting lately about myself and relationships in my life.
My oldest begins to cry. First, he said he is glad there are no pictures because he doesn't want to remember that day. I began to ask why and figure out where he was coming from. He was feeling guilty.
You see, our church set up a room off the sanctuary for the kids. It was filled with snacks and games. The kids stayed in that room for most of the receiving line time. I thought it was a gift that my children were occupied so I could attend to the business at hand. As a child came through the line, I advised them where the children were. All the children seemed to be relieved to leave the room where the guy was lying in the coffin. Uncomfortable for adults, can only imagine how my children's friends felt. Anyway, in that room people had their ipods, kindles, phones or whatever other device they had stuffed in their pockets. Most of my children stayed in that room the whole time. We had a private viewing as a family (another topic) and they walked back in with me at the beginning of the service (we did not want to witness the lid being closed on the coffin).
The guilt. Apparently that room was fun. He should not have had fun and smiled at his fathers funeral. What kind of person has fun at their own fathers funeral. I told him, his dad would have been in that room playing games too if he could. That his dad and all the other people understood the internal struggle and no one judged or thought anything of it. He just cried and said, "I had fun at my own dad's funeral". I have no idea how to make that guilt go away.
I pray he finds peace with it.
I hope he understands that everyone understood.
I hope he realizes that laughter is medicine.
I don't want him to carry this guilt.
I am sad he feels this way.
Guilt can be powerful.
My oldest begins to cry. First, he said he is glad there are no pictures because he doesn't want to remember that day. I began to ask why and figure out where he was coming from. He was feeling guilty.
You see, our church set up a room off the sanctuary for the kids. It was filled with snacks and games. The kids stayed in that room for most of the receiving line time. I thought it was a gift that my children were occupied so I could attend to the business at hand. As a child came through the line, I advised them where the children were. All the children seemed to be relieved to leave the room where the guy was lying in the coffin. Uncomfortable for adults, can only imagine how my children's friends felt. Anyway, in that room people had their ipods, kindles, phones or whatever other device they had stuffed in their pockets. Most of my children stayed in that room the whole time. We had a private viewing as a family (another topic) and they walked back in with me at the beginning of the service (we did not want to witness the lid being closed on the coffin).
The guilt. Apparently that room was fun. He should not have had fun and smiled at his fathers funeral. What kind of person has fun at their own fathers funeral. I told him, his dad would have been in that room playing games too if he could. That his dad and all the other people understood the internal struggle and no one judged or thought anything of it. He just cried and said, "I had fun at my own dad's funeral". I have no idea how to make that guilt go away.
I pray he finds peace with it.
I hope he understands that everyone understood.
I hope he realizes that laughter is medicine.
I don't want him to carry this guilt.
I am sad he feels this way.
Guilt can be powerful.
Waves of Grief
When I first became a widow and began reading on the
subject, I saw the phrase Waves of Grief a lot.
It reminded me of the song, “waves of mercy, waves of grace, everywhere
I look I see your face.” This is a
positive thing. A reminder that God is
always there willing and ready to take us into his loving arms.
Waves of Grief are different. They are debilitating. They completely take your breath away and you
don’t see them coming.
Yesterday, I walked into the Royal Ranger Pinewood Derby
with the kids. I knew where we were
going. I knew it was one of Rocky’s
favorite events. He worked hard as it
approached every year. He wanted the
boys to have great cars. I always
reminded him it was the boys’ event, and the boy’s cars. Who was I kidding? It was his!
Anyway, I walked in and felt something was off. The boys checked in and I immediately had to
step into the restroom to compose myself.
You see, a wave a grief hit me in that room.
Imagine this…..you are standing on the beach talking to a
friend and just really aren’t paying much attention. Maybe, a wave hits and you are all of a
sudden wet and didn’t mean to be. The
wave just took on more strength than the ones before it. Take it a step further…….you are letting the
waves crash on your legs and all of a sudden you are knocked off your feet and
a wave crashes over you. You try not to
panic and work to float to the top and regain your bearings. It is scary.
Finally, you are to the top and breathing again but there seems to be a
rip tide. You can’t make it back to
shore. You know you are supposed to swim
parallel to the beach until you have control.
You do that but your heartrate is up and you are nervous. Does the lifeguard see me? Will they come if I can’t make it? Ahhh…..the
sweet feeling of sand between your toes.
You start to breathe again but you are looking at the ocean with a whole
new sense of awe. A respect for its
power over you. As much as you love it
you are reluctant to dabble your toes in the water again. You spend the day thinking about it and
remembering the need to breath.
That surprise. That,
whoa….didn’t see that coming sense of awe.
That need to be in control again.
That inability to function at full capacity for the rest of the
day. That is what a wave of grief feels
like.
Back to yesterday, that wave crashed over me the minute we
entered the room. I spent hours swimming
along the shore. I caught two of my boys
with tears in their eyes and knew they were swimming just as hard as I
was. We didn’t talk because we knew that
was place we didn’t want to go in that moment.
But we understood each other.
We got in the car and I simply said, “That was hard.” They said, “Yup.” Thankful we survived current and praying the
next wave will have a little more mercy and grace.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
A year later
This year I have learned a lot. Here are some thoughts.
1. Widow Fog is for real. I have never lost or misplaced so many things in my life. I honestly have no clue where things go. It is waaaaaay worse than pregnancy brain so don't tell me you can relate.
2. The word friend is used very loosely in our world. There really are few who stick with you but the few that do are gems that need to be treasured. They are not who you may expect them to be either.
3. Love a widows kids, love the widow.
4. People say dumb things, try to see their heart and move on. They truly know now what they do.
5. People run from pain. They aren't sure what to do so they do nothing. They don't mean to. Again, they know not what they do or don't do.
6. Please don't ask a widow to call if she needs you, she's not calling. Look for the need and just fill it, even if she protests. Silently, she is so thankful for you.
7. Living with regrets is pointless. Try to not have any. I know easier said than done.
8. Counseling is a good thing. My counselor has helped me process, works with me with strategies for my kids, gives me advice. She is so special, sometimes I forget I am paying her to listen:)
9. Take pictures. Take them of the good and the bad. I regret having no pictures of the funeral. Sounds strange. Nope, that was the manifestation of his life. Film the service, take still shots. Record it all, especially for the children. They won't remember the details and honestly, neither will you (remember the widow's fog?).
10. Live the legacy. Rocky left an amazing legacy in his children and his friends. I will do my best to honor that and more forward. God is not done with us and he is not done with Rocky's life influencing us. Press on and love big.
11. Decide what church means to you. I have learned that people, many of which do not worship in the same place as me on Sunday mornings are the church. The church is the sky. The church is my rocking chair. The church is my tears. The church is me. Perhaps I have learned not to put expectations on the institution. The institution and its people will offend if you let them. Find your own peace with your maker.
12. God is still on the throne. Always will be. He has been my provider and comforter. He will see me through this and has great plans for me and my children.
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Rings
Several months after Rocky died I wondered how long the average widow keeps her rings on. So in true, fashion I researched it. I found that it varies. I know, who needs research to know that. I learned that some people move their rings to chains and wear around their necks. Some just put them away and some sell them to remove the memories. I wasn't sure any of those options worked for me. I hit a place at about 8 months post loss where I looked at the rings often and realized that although I still loved Rocky deeply, I was no longer married. I no longer had a partner doing life with me. I didn't remove the rings, but I looked at them often and contemplated their meaning.
Then a breakdown came.
Over the Christmas break from school, I wept a lot. I processed the loss of his life. I processed the loss of dreams. I processed the change in my future. One night while I was sobbing in bed the rings came off. It was symbolic of the tears. The loss. The changes in my life. This was 10 months post loss. I started to really look towards tomorrow. I started to embrace my now. I shed tears of change.
Here I am a month later. The rings still sit on my nightstand. The marks of almost 23 years of wear still show on my finger although it is starting to fade. Even when the mark on my finger is gone, the mark on my life will be forever. Things have changed. I have changed. My kids have changed.
In all the change, we are learning. We are moving forward. We have new symbols that represent all that was and all that will be.
Then a breakdown came.
Over the Christmas break from school, I wept a lot. I processed the loss of his life. I processed the loss of dreams. I processed the change in my future. One night while I was sobbing in bed the rings came off. It was symbolic of the tears. The loss. The changes in my life. This was 10 months post loss. I started to really look towards tomorrow. I started to embrace my now. I shed tears of change.
Here I am a month later. The rings still sit on my nightstand. The marks of almost 23 years of wear still show on my finger although it is starting to fade. Even when the mark on my finger is gone, the mark on my life will be forever. Things have changed. I have changed. My kids have changed.
In all the change, we are learning. We are moving forward. We have new symbols that represent all that was and all that will be.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Offense
We are told that offense can block all of our blessings. Offenses happen, we are not to pick them up. It is called the Bait of Satan. I am struggling not to be offended. There are people that I put expectation on during this trial in my life and they did not meet those expectations. I know Pastor Mark says expectations lead to disappointment which lead to offense. Don't put expectations on people and then they can't fail you. I am human.
There are people in my life that seemed to disappear when this got tough.
There are ministries that ignored my hurt and pain.
There are "prayer warriors" who never prayed with me. They claimed to pray for me, but never with me (even when asked).
There were opportunities to make me feel valued that went unnoticed.
This is not a post where I will counter with the blessings that have happened. The truth is most of them were provision. A need I know. I am talking about the people who could have been there for me. Shoulders to cry on. Peace in the storm. My needs have been met for my children and my home.
I have felt deserted as a woman. I am offended.
My prayer is to not let this jade me to much. I am asking that somehow I can find grace for the offenders. A few have hurt me deeply. I know people are busy with their own lives and for me to expect to be a priority to them is selfish. I guess I feel like selfish was ok during this season. I have learned how to be something better to others.
Praying against the offense.
It is hard to do. I feel it deeply.
There are people in my life that seemed to disappear when this got tough.
There are ministries that ignored my hurt and pain.
There are "prayer warriors" who never prayed with me. They claimed to pray for me, but never with me (even when asked).
There were opportunities to make me feel valued that went unnoticed.
This is not a post where I will counter with the blessings that have happened. The truth is most of them were provision. A need I know. I am talking about the people who could have been there for me. Shoulders to cry on. Peace in the storm. My needs have been met for my children and my home.
I have felt deserted as a woman. I am offended.
My prayer is to not let this jade me to much. I am asking that somehow I can find grace for the offenders. A few have hurt me deeply. I know people are busy with their own lives and for me to expect to be a priority to them is selfish. I guess I feel like selfish was ok during this season. I have learned how to be something better to others.
Praying against the offense.
It is hard to do. I feel it deeply.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
Year of the Lord
Last year at this time Pastor Bill preached on Isaiah 61 and declared 2014 to be the year of the Lord's favor. Rocky and I grabbed that message. We were in a dark place. We had just moved to Gumboro. In a last stitch effort to save everything. Our home. Our finances. Our children's schooling. Our future.
We knew the move we were making was in direct obedience to the Lord. I was not happy about the move. I was so scared. I was so unsure. The only think I knew for sure was that it was the Lords will for us. That, and Rocky was so very excited. His only doubt was my hesitation. For me, the obedience to the Lord and the submissiveness to my husband was very hard. If you know me you know those are two traits I struggle with!
As you can imagine I now am filled with questions. Why did we settle in there for Rocky to leave me less than two months later? Why did I never fully submit? Living in that house was the last big argument we had, exactly one week prior to his death. Why did I continue to argue when I knew it was the Lords will and his love? Why did I have to make things so tense? Why couldn't I rejoice in his happiness? What about the Lord's favor?
Well, after Rocky died I had decisions to make. The first was the home. The Lord released me from Gumboro and sent me back to the home Rocky and I lived in for 22 years. I was able to bring all bills current and no longer live under the financial strain that had haunted Rocky and I. Through the insurance, social security and selfless giving of others, I was financially stable for the first time in a very long time. I ended up putting two of my children in private school where they are thriving, not just surviving. I still have a hope and a future, just have no clue what it looks like.
You see, God did grant me his favor in 2014. Would I trade it for a different path with Rocky? Sure I would. I will never understand but I know that the Lord has quite literally held me in the palm of his hands. If not, I would have fallen for sure. I am thankful for his favor, his comfort, his provision, his love. I pray that all of this helps me to be better at loving people.
After all, that's what living is really about.
We knew the move we were making was in direct obedience to the Lord. I was not happy about the move. I was so scared. I was so unsure. The only think I knew for sure was that it was the Lords will for us. That, and Rocky was so very excited. His only doubt was my hesitation. For me, the obedience to the Lord and the submissiveness to my husband was very hard. If you know me you know those are two traits I struggle with!
As you can imagine I now am filled with questions. Why did we settle in there for Rocky to leave me less than two months later? Why did I never fully submit? Living in that house was the last big argument we had, exactly one week prior to his death. Why did I continue to argue when I knew it was the Lords will and his love? Why did I have to make things so tense? Why couldn't I rejoice in his happiness? What about the Lord's favor?
Well, after Rocky died I had decisions to make. The first was the home. The Lord released me from Gumboro and sent me back to the home Rocky and I lived in for 22 years. I was able to bring all bills current and no longer live under the financial strain that had haunted Rocky and I. Through the insurance, social security and selfless giving of others, I was financially stable for the first time in a very long time. I ended up putting two of my children in private school where they are thriving, not just surviving. I still have a hope and a future, just have no clue what it looks like.
You see, God did grant me his favor in 2014. Would I trade it for a different path with Rocky? Sure I would. I will never understand but I know that the Lord has quite literally held me in the palm of his hands. If not, I would have fallen for sure. I am thankful for his favor, his comfort, his provision, his love. I pray that all of this helps me to be better at loving people.
After all, that's what living is really about.
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