funny memories

In case you don't have Facebook - there is a feature that will show you what your posts were on the same day in years past.  I enjoy it most of the time - it triggers memories.  Today was no different:

Oh my goodness am I glad this popped up today!  I actually laughed out loud remembering this.

We live in a rented home.  Our landlord has been wonderful at getting to any issues we may have in a fairly quick manner.  We hadn't even been here a year when the kitchen sink stopped draining.  And it was nasty.  It backed up into the sink and there was a greasy film on the water.  We assume that the previous tenants had tried to use the disposal for who knows what. 

I mentioned calling the landlord.  But, Kyle was determined that this was a problem that he was going to fix.  He tried draino in every drain we have (laundry, bath, every sink) knowing that all drains lead to one place, he tried this stuff called Instaflo (the vapor alone stings your eyes and throat), he tried the plunger in both sides of the sink.  This junk was not moving. We woke up the next day and the water had sloooooooowly drained from the sink all night.  Little did I know that Kyle had been up most of the night online looking for solutions.  And he presented his findings to me. I just stared at him and asked if he was sure we shouldn't call the landlord - haha!

He proceeded to bring the outside water hose into our house. He stuffed it into the pipes under the kitchen sink and stuffed towels in and around it to create a seal of some sorts.  He also stuffed rags down in the opening of the drain in the laundry room to make sure that water didn't come up in there (he had somehow figured out that those were our two main areas of concentration).  I held the rags that were stuffed into the laundry drain and he had made sure that the rags stuffed around the hose in the kitchen pipes wasn't going anywhere. 

Then he turned on the outside hose.

The theory was that the water would shoot through the pipes so fast that it would shoot out any blockage that was there.

I kind of watched with one eye closed. I had visions in my head of a Chevy Chase-type scene where this water with a greasy film shoots out from every drain in the house and covers the rooms with unidentified globs of years worth of build up.

But, the craziest thing happened - IT WORKED!!!!!

We stared at each other, eyes wide open, not saying anything for a second.  Then we just sat there and laughed! I think he was just as surprised as I was that this crazy idea actually worked - and worked well!  We haven't had any drain issues since.

pieces of him

As you know my husband passed away unexpectedly on Christmas Day.

Before we got married he painted this for me. It's me and my two older kids sitting in a tree. My son with a train next to him, my daughter wearing fairy wings (totally them!)

I took it out a few days ago so I could get the measurements to have it framed. I turned it over. I never realized he had written on the back. "One Man's Treasure" dated Christmas Day 2011.

I got goosebumps!

Fast forward to today.  I have been going through the house and purging and organizing like it's going out of style.  I still haven't brought myself to go through any of his things yet - but there's plenty of other things to go through to keep me busy for a while.
In our utility room I saw a box that I knew contained painting and drawing supplies that I had given to Kyle before we had gotten married.  He had once shared with me how he wanted to get back to painting (something that he had done before - and something he was so great at!).  So, me being clueless, went online and Googled information about different painting supplies.  I found an online art supply store and blindly ordered things.  Kyle seemingly loved them.  I opened the big box today and there was the art supplies that I was so excited to order and he was so excited to receive.  In that box was a of acrylics I had gotten for him.  I opened them. There they all laid - so perfectly displayed.  Not a single tube had been used - save 3.  The three he used in the painting above.  I sat there and stared at the orange, yellow, and brown tubes with their indentations from where his fingers had squeezed the paint on on a pallet.  I picked those tubes out and just ran my fingers over the indentations - knowing that the last time they were used, he was thinking about me, making something for me.  I couldn't hold back the tears. It was a perfect reminder, frozen in time, of him; his love of always thinking of others.  I don't know that I could ever use these acrylics - or give them away.  Once again - it's a tangible remnant of him.

I think that keeping myself busy is some kind of defense mechanism.  It's my way of keeping my brain occupied so that I don't have to think.  Today was no different.  I noticed this morning that I had this heaviness hanging over me.  I went to tickle my toddler and his laugh made me laugh out loud - and then I immediately though about Kyle.  He absolutely loved our toddler's laugh.  It gave him the biggest kick to be able to make him laugh.  And - he'll never hear his laugh again.  His dad will never tickle him again. That hit me. And hard. Our daughter was emotional last night - talking about how she missed how Kyle would always wrestle with them. How do I replace that?  How do I give my kids that kind of "dad fun"?

I had an OB appointment yesterday and got to see our newest little one.  I was able to share that appointment with Kyle's sister.  I was so glad she was able to be there with me.  Baby Liam looks great and everything seems to be going well. I'm so anxious to see him, to hold him.  I told Kyle's sister that a part of my feeling so comforted is knowing that I, literally, have a piece of Kyle in me with Liam - and we have a piece of Kyle here with Charlie.  So Kyle is still here - it's not a replacement for him being HERE - nothing could ever replace that - but his boys being made up of him - he's never going to be gone.

life goes on

I have been reminded this week, that even though my world has metaphorically been standing still since December 25 - life itself goes on.

I started school this past week.  It, like many other experiences, was bittersweet.  It's my last semester of my undergraduate career - and I know that Kyle would have been so excited to see me start it off.  The welcome from my professors and fellow students has been heartwarming.  I have gotten so many hugs and "I'm praying for you's".  I'm taking my final internship class this semester.  I had an interview today for my internship site.  I have recently found out that this place looks to hire on their interns - and from what I've heard about salaries and benefits, it sounds like a great place to get my foot in the door.  Kyle would be absolutely beaming at this news! (separate post coming about the interview).

Life goes on.

2 out of our 3 kids have gotten sick over the past week; both with different illnesses.  I'm glad to say that they are both on the mend - but this was my first time dealing with sick kiddos without him. I could definitely feel the loss.  Our pediatrician is amazing though.  When I had taken our youngest in to see her, I let her know about Kyle.  She told me that I had the right to be as paranoid as I need to be right now where my kids' health is concerned.  Then a few days ago our oldest started coming down with symptoms that just 10 months ago caused him a seizure and won him a helicopter ride and a week's stay at to a children's hospital.  So I wasted no time in getting him in with the pediatrician.  The pediatrician got him figured out and suggested some over the counter medicines and he's nearly 100%.

Life goes on.

The check engine light in my van came on today.  Luckily my sister was in town so I was able to get it into the shop fairly quickly so they could run diagnostics on it. It could have either been a cheap and easy fix or an expensive and difficult fix.  Thank God it ended up being the cheap and easy fix.

Life goes on.

The laundry hasn't piled up, the dishes have been getting done, I've gone to classes, the kids get to school on time, dinner gets fixed, the house gets cleaned, the baby gets bathed, groceries get bought....life has continued on.

But, I think about him with every little thing that happens.  Like today - his mom and I headed to the social security office 45 minutes away to start getting things sorted out. It was a really great trip, despite them telling me that they couldn't help me there so I'd need to go to a different office or wait for my February phone appointment. But, I had a great time visiting with my mom-in-law on the way there and back - and even some what chuckling at our bad luck.  And in the back of my mind I knew Kyle would have enjoyed the ride and he would have tried to find some kind of humor in our misfortune.

Granted, the break downs have shortened and I have found myself smiling more than crying when I remember things about him.  But he's still very much a part of our day to day lives.

There was a time this past week when both kids had really rough nights with going to sleep.  They were remembering every detail about Kyle; how he played with them, how he talked to them when they were having crappy days, the way he'd hug them when they got home from school.  So, we sat up - on a school night - until past 11 o'clock and we all just cried together.  I don't know exactly what to say to them when they have these moments.  I don't want to talk them out of feeling sad - I want them to have those times to be able to get it out.  But, I am praying that they will eventually get to the point that the memories of his hugs, his soft spoken nature, the jokes he'd make....that those memories will make them laugh and be grateful for the time that we did get to have with him  - time that WE got and that no one else got to have.  I absolutely cherish those memories and I want to make sure that they stay at the forefront of our minds.

Even still - life goes on.

identities

I'm a firm believer that in life you find your identity in many things; and as you go along in life you constantly have to re-adjust your identities. 

As a teenager, I found my identity in school as a student and also as an employee as I took on my first job.  When I was married the first time, I found my identity in being a wife - and then added on to that was being a mother.  When I went through my divorce, it was a shock to my system because one of my identities had been taken from me.  I had to re-adjust and figure out my identity as a divorced, single mother - and no longer his wife.  Once I was through it - I found that this transition was actually rather enjoyable; I was able to find "me" again - as my first marriage took a lot of the "me" I knew and shoved her aside. I learned so many lessons during this transition - namely should I ever marry again, I knew to stay true to who I was despite a husband becoming a part of my identity. Shortly after my divorce, I added a new identity to my already established "single mother" status;  I became a full time student in college.  I thoroughly enjoyed this time in my life and loved adding this title to my list.

Then there was Kyle. Although he added yet another new identity to my being - he never once took away from my other identities or forced me to lose who I was in the process of becoming his "girlfriend" and then later as "Kyle's wife". In our marriage, I happily took on the status of Kyle's wife, mom, student, individual, etc.  And I was able to not lose myself and find a cohesive joining of them all. I felt like I had finally mastered the art of embracing my identities without my identities kicking "me" out.

Then Kyle was taken from me.  And with that, once again there's a change up in my identities.  I have to figure out how to go from "Kyle's wife" - to widow. I've come across several Facebook groups for widows.  One puts it so well "the exclusive club that no woman wants to be a member of".  Truer words have never been spoken!

Obviously the reason for my first marriage failing is completely night and day - not even in the same ballpark - from the reasons why I'm technically no longer a wife now.  So the stripping of an identity this time isn't something I wanted - it isn't something I sought out -and it's nothing that I had ever in a million years thought would happen. 

So here I am, yet again, on a path that's all my own - a path in which I am in charge of cutting out my own way - no road maps to tell me which way to go.  I just have to forge ahead and trust that I'm going in a good direction.

sinking in

I made dinner tonight for just me and my kids for the first time since he got his promotion. My mom has been here a lot in the past 2 weeks - so one of us would cook dinner - but having that extra person at the dinner table made it feel like nothing was really out of the ordinary.  But tonight as I sat at the table with our 10 year old, 9 year old, and 2 year old - it started sinking in that he really wasn't here.  I lost my appetite pretty quickly and just sat there zoning out - trying to remember the details of the last meal we all ate at home together. Even the kids were talking about him not being there tonight and how he would always love it when I made spaghetti (tonight's dinner of choice).

Later this evening I was watching a funny clip online tonight.  My first reaction was "I can't wait to show this to my husband when he gets home". And then a split second later my brain reminded me that he won't be coming home.  Even still it took a few minutes of my mind searching for reasons why he won't be coming home before it felt like a huge, breathtaking punch in my gut.

He won't be coming home.

My brain kept repeating that over and over and it's like my mind was failing (or refusing) to compute.  It can't possibly be really true.  This is all a horrible nightmare and I'll wake up soon and my husband will be here with me.  He can't possibly, really be gone. 

I'm not ready for it to all start sinking in and hitting me.  I was perfectly content with the way things were panning out; tears here and there as certain things reminded me of him. 

I don't know what tomorrow holds - but I hope that my brain will take it easy on me.

faith

Some people have opened up to me about what this tragedy has done to their faith.  While I don't feel it necessary to go into what others have been telling me in confidence - it has opened a door to my own internal dialogue about MY faith and what this has done to it.

The honest answer is that I don't know what it's done to my faith.  I know that sounds odd.  The human side of me says that my faith has taken a huge blow; that I'm angry at God and don't feel like I can talk to Him right now; that it's absolutely unfair and I'm utterly disappointed at God for not healing my husband here on earth.

But, as I think about it I realize that my faith hasn't take a big blow.  In fact I feel as if I tell people quite often that my option right now is to completely trust that God knows what He's doing - because I sure as heck don't.  I'm not necessarily angry at God; don't get me wrong - as I stood there holding my husband's hand and rubbing his head as he got his promotion - I was filled with anger and sorrow like I have never felt before.  And in the days following - I was confused by why God would have taken him.  Why would God have taken my children's dad - leaving them to grow up without him in their lives? So confusion...lots of it.  Anger? Not as much as I feel that other people may have. And I'll say that that's perfectly okay.  As I stated earlier, there is no blueprint for grief.  I get that.  So if people need to feel absolute anger - then they should be allowed to feel angry.  If people need to curl up in bed and take a few days off from life - that's just as fine. I have found that each of us who are experiencing this grief together are all experiencing it in our own ways.

Do I want to question why He didn't heal my husband - absolutely, yes!  But I also know that allowing my brain to go down that path will lead to zero answers and 100% frustration, plus I know that if my husband were still here he would hate for me to just sit and stew on it.

Please don't think that I'm saying that my faith has grown by leaps and bounds and I'm closer to God now than ever before - because that's not the case either.  All I do know is that God has a plan in all of this - and that alone is enough to provide some kind of peace for me.

My mother-in-law came over a few days ago to visit and drop off some cards and gifts that had come in the mail.  She had had lunch with her dad.  I'll stop here and say that grandad is an incredible, God-fearing man who I have nothing but absolute love and respect for. I am thankful for him (and even more so that he's a big part of why my husband turned out the way he did).  Anyway - my mother-in-law shared with me that at lunch grandad made such a great point - he said that we have no way of knowing if my husband would have been the same person had he come out of sedation - we also don't know what kind of care he would have required.  At this point it's a huge guessing game - but he said that maybe God was being merciful in taking my husband to heaven when He did.  What an incredible way to look at it.

God has never once promised that our journeys would be easy - but he does promise that He will never leave us. It's this promise that I'm clinging to.

 

reunited

I picked up my husband's remains today.  We (myself, his siblings, and his mom) all decided that cremation would have been what he wanted.  He wouldn't have wanted to be in a casket on display for people to gawk at.  His mom and I weren't comfortable with the idea of tucking him inside a casket and burying him.  His brother and sisters helped me to pick out a nice urn for his remains.  And today - 12 days after he passed - I got to bring him home.

I wasn't sure what emotions would come out when I got to the funeral home to pick him up.  The funeral director had to go over checklists with me about things to do after a loved one passed.  I also had to check over the death certificate. And, I asked to see his thumbprints that they took when they received his body.

By far one of the hardest parts was seeing the words "certificate of death" followed by his name and information on a piece of paper.  He was 36 years old.  Way too young to have his name affixed to such a document. "Cause of death - pending investigation".  That made me feel nauseous.  I was told by the medical examiners office that the autopsy results could take 2-4  months to come back.  But even then there's a chance that they still won't know. So I feel as if we're in a state of "pause" until we know something.

And then I saw his thumbprints.  I'm not sure what about those got to me - but I just wanted to hold them, feel them.  Those thumbprints were attached to the very hands that I loved to hold - the hands that held mine when he got on one knee and asked me to marry him - the hands that held me while we shared our first dance on our wedding day - the hands that would rub my back when I had a bad day - the hands that wiped my many tears away - the hands that cut the umbilical cord of our baby - the hands that held that same baby so close when he rocked him to sleep - the hands that held mine when my brain would want to take off on its own - the hands that would wrap our kids in the biggest hugs and give them the biggest tickles - the hands that would find mine somewhere in the middle of the night.  There were so many ways that his hands touched me, touched our memories, touched our lives - and I was once again, in some way, so close to those hands again by just holding his thumbprints in my hand.  I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for taking those hands for granted so many times.  I should have held them longer - I should have held them more; because I would give anything to hold his hands again - to feel his hands again.  Anything.

There was a surprisingly bright spot in my visit to the funeral home - and that came when they brought his urn to me. I had no clue how it would make me feel, seeing the urn, knowing that that is where his remains were.  But, it brought some kind of odd comfort to be able to know that he was with me again - that I was able to take him back home with me.  It was the most bizarre feeling...and carrying his urn out and seeing it in the seat next to me in the van actually almost made me...happy.  I almost feel creepy saying it - but maybe someone who has been through something similar will understand.