May...2016

Bear with me…this is a combined post of many days…

May 1^{st…..OH hell this is the never-ending blog…}

And 2^nd, 3^rd, 4th, 5^th, 6^th, 7^{th, etc t to the 21at.}…2016

If you follow me on FB, then you know the last weeks have been hell.   A shock jock tried to insinuate that I was involved in seeking money from one of the other families in the tragic death of my husband….his own cousin….a man I, along with my daughter, adored.   My daughter doesn’t even know that he is gone, yet, and I am not sure I how I am going to explain that he can’t drive daddy’s boat because he is in heaven, too.  UMMMM, bullshit.  Then the shock jock decides to reveal a description of the accident that I never wanted to know or hear….. thanks asshole.   Did I say ASSHOLE?

But…The week ended with a great visit with his family…I say great because that is how I felt throughout the entire weekend.   I felt great.  I felt blessed for my girl…to spend time with his family…blessed to know them better. 

The overwhelming is becoming:  OVERwhelming.  I keep hearing:  you ARE doing this…but I feel like I am doing it …horribly. 

Maris and I fight, we yell, we stomp our feet.

We hug.

We pat backs.

We apologize.

We smooch.

We stomp our feet.

Life is hard.  It is hard.  Yet, I still cannot wrap my head around the notion that how I grieve is how **I** grieve, and no one gets-

OR is allowed to expect or dictate how I choose to do this.  NO ONE. 

~~~~~except where my daughter is concerned.

However…

…today, I came home from Cincy. 

Something rose up inside me. 

I went down into the basement. 

And…I began. 

I drug 200 pounds of weights out of the right side

Moved them to the left.

I used a huge blade to cut out all of the carpet (without cutting off my thumb)

Carried up the stereo.

Cleaned all of the surfaces where the TV was.

Organized and labeled all of my DVD’s: 

21 Day Fix, Mortal Combat, P90x3, P90 Sculpt, Sweat, and Abs

Hammer and Chisel, T25 (where is my Gamma!!)

I carried all of the carpet to the garage.  **muscle power**

I “sucked” every crevice with the vacuum and that canister thing??

Moved all of the arm stretchy bands to the safety bar.

Cleaned the big mirror that watches me struggle,

Found spots for the push up stands, the gloves, the yoga mats.

And with the help of my amazing friend, placed the floor mats, moved the weights!!!!!, put up some inspirational messages, and …

I did what a friend said:  make it your space

Make this your space. 

I need to make the space where we live

Our

#familyoftwo

a space for Maris and I

To breathe together

To support each other

To move forward one step at a time

So, Tuesday, I begin…putting my body back together.

Tuesday, I begin to connect my mind with my body.

Tuesday, I get to say “fuck you” to the shock jock.

And hopefully…Tuesday, we will stomp less and hug more.

**Side note…that gel polish is the best…all that work, not a single chip!!**

Fast forward

I worked out 4/5 days this week.  I am still purging like crazy.  I am beginning to open up to friends more, and I am beginning to tell people what I need…how I feel, and I am also being honest with my perspectives, and I am listening to others’ perspectives.  This is definitely a positive move from a girl who has been “fine” for so long.   We all know that “fine” shit is just that…BULLSHIT.

In the past few days, I have heard more and more about daddy.  It has been my own challenge to talk about him more.

“this is daddy’s song”

“daddy loves chocolate ice cream”

“who taught you to swing”

“I know daddy loved steak, too”….

My parents came for dinner on Mother’s Day… I set 4 adult settings. 

He’s not here. 

I reach my foot over in the bed. 

He’s not here. 

I wear his t-shirts…even ACDC

He’s not here  (he’d be surprised). 

I drank bourbon “neat.”

He’s not here.

After my parents left after having dinner for Mother’s Day, she looked at me, she said, “I miss daddy.”

He’s not here.

Watching her swing, knowing he taught her how to pull the chains, to pump her legs.  Seeing her jump off the steps, jump on the couch, walk the patio wall and jump off, walk the fat tight rope at the park, cross the web at the park, roll sideways down the grass, kick the soccer ball (Tim, she is actually playing and not just going down the slide), listening to her talk about left and right, knowing how to get places (she’s better than Siri—no, really)….he is there.

               But…I will admit to pushing people away again…

So…I made a conscious decision to NOT go back to BW in any capacity…

I believe I will find a new place.    I will…

But here is the thing…as this week becomes hell….

This will be the beginning of  many blogs….

Dear Tim,

I love you.  I miss you.  I have been seeking you….You are not here.  There are so many things I miss…

Maris misses you.  I feel like she holds back…bc she knows I will cry…how crazy is that??

She still jumps off the stairs.

She jumps on the couch,

She still waits for the perfect bite of food….

She misses you so much.   

YOU ARE going to miss it all!!!!!  I cooked all night alone…

I just wish you were here.  The banana bread is just like you like it.

Love,

Honeykins

4.18.2016...the messages. Thank you.

Technology might be “destroying real communication,” but for me…it has given me comfort and hope.  So, I will say thank you to the “text.”

In the last weeks….I have received hundreds of messages  Hundreds.  I have read each one, and I have held them tightly to my heart.  Here are just a small sample.  You might recognize yours….although there are so many of you who have repeated the same amazing supportive words.  They are all over Facebook, as well.   I do read each one.  I try to answer all of you…and I apologize for the “self deprecating, I feel sorry for us, I am in hell” replies…but that is our truth.

So...tonight...I wanted to share a piece of our daily....

Thank you for all of these:

Move beyond the pain.

Focus on what you have.

You are scrappy.

Love you.  Love Maris.

Think about the 2 of you all the time.

You can’t worry about what other people say or think.

Once in a while, just ask for a break.

There IS a light at the end if a very long tunnel.

It is unknown, and you are facing it everyday…do you realize how much strength that takes.

I can take late night shifts.

The path is always unknown.

You are so strong!

Just wanted to say hi, friend.

Admire.

It is going to be a long road.

Don’t try to do everything alone, rely on others if you need to.

We all love Maris so much.  Keep being strong for her.

You can’t have a future if you are living in the past.

It’s fucking annoying how people can be.

It is a new day!

I have no idea how you are doing this.

How are his dad and brother doing?  I think of them often.

Praying for you like crazy.

My heart just melted.  Maris just came up and hugged my leg.

My heart breaks for you.

I miss you.

I love that you talk to him.

You’re strong, resilient, and caring.

Please don’t expect yourself to be ok.

You are amazing.  I can’t get over my appreciation for our friendship.

You never leave my thoughts.

Hang in there, friend.  We love you.

I would give anything in the world to make it better.

You are a great momma.

God protect you and your baby girl.

One step at a time.  Stay within yourself, and do what you can.

I can’t imagine.

I am still thinking of you everyday.

God and Tim are with you everyday.

Thinking of you and Maris today.  Hope all is going as good as it can be.

I hope you feel all the love because we are all thinking about you.

I cannot imagine the pain you are going through…hugs to you and Maris.

Can we host you and Maris and Mike for dinner.  You are family to us.

We love you, and we are proud of you no matter what.

And some of my last texts from Tim on 2/5.

Call me

Best wife ever

I love you

How u? (his last)

My latest comments from Maris:

I miss daddy.  I want daddy.  I want the daddy in this picture.

Maybe I can wear this dress (my wedding dress) with daddy someday.

Daddy likes this song.

Daddy taught me this.

Is that daddy’s truck (we sold it)?

This summer we can go on daddy’s boat, and maybe Donnie can drive (she does not know he is gone, too)

I love daddy. 

Can you go to heaven and get him.

I love you, mommy. 

Girls only.

I need a hug.

I miss daddy.

As she looks at this sky…Daddy is looking over me.

I love you, mommy.  I love you, daddy.

So, no…it is not getting better, as I stated before…it just becomes more confusing and more fucking, ridiculously REAL. 

Thank you for loving us...

Has it been over 2 months ??? 4.3.2016

Time heals…. 

They say.  (who the hell are “they?”… I don’t know)

It is so bizarre at this point…It has been 9 weeks.  2ish months.  When I type this, I think that in terms of a common joyful timeline…as is it is “9 weeks til Spring 

Break,” or “We go on our cruise in 9 weeks,” or “I cannot believe I am getting married in 2 months”…the time seems like –hours, minutes- that you are waiting to pass quickly -- time that excites you-time that you anticipate.

In this case, “9 weeks/2 months” rattles me.  I mean, yes, there was a tragedy that occurred this long ago---

But…as I really thought about my own personal horror…how “long ago” it occurred…

I thought…

… so did other  (major/monumental/historical) tragic moments in history.  After 2 months, the raw horror of Columbine seemed less newsworthy, and after 9/11, the slow cleaning and reconstruction of a city was occurring, and after Hurricane Katrina, the blaming became less focused on politics— their place at the headlines changed, at least for those of us that were somewhat “removed” from the center of the nest of tragedy holding on and hiding in the debris left…

And for those of us that aren’t living in the middle of the debris, almost trapped in this nest of all of those “7 stages of grieving,” (I should talk about that at some point, but not today—not in this post) the twigs unravel, fall away, break off, disappear.

All the while, I am trapped in this nest, woven so tightly, I cannot even peek through the gaps…in fact, the gaps seem to close more and more tightly—like I can’t even breathe sometimes.  

 It was in the last week or so that I specifically noticed that like many tragic events that are featured on the nightly news, my feature was also fading.  People were moving on…living their lives.  Yet, for me, it felt like it was happening all over again.  It felt like as the texts stopped coming, and the phone calls and messages were less frequent, this moment…the moment Tim left this family, felt like it was on replay over and over.  

In my last blog, I think I said it was starting to become a reality.  Clearly, knowing what I know now—that was a load of bullshit.  I am so fooled every time I hear the back door open.

I still actually think he might come home.

#delusional

I know that sounds crazy, but as I think about the other tragic moments, those people directly affected, trapped in this same nest, were perhaps, in some bizarre way, experiencing some of the same illusions…

this school massacre never happened, and the bell is about to ring for the next period

tomorrow the sun will shine, and the towers will be there

the floods were simply puddles, and the wind was only a breeze.

And he…will walk in the door, and she will run and yell, “DADDY!”

But that is not what is happening.  And knowing that it will never ever happen…for crying out loud!!  Anyone reading this now knows what it feels like to lose someone—to wish that person would come back—to realize that person is not coming back, but for me …it somehow feels doubled:  no husband to dance with in the kitchen, no daddy to dance with in the kitchen…

 A blessing, a force, the developmental mind of a 4 year old, perhaps daddy is protecting her heart from all of this pain, but she can’t find the words to say how she feels-how she knows something is different…My heart is breaking, and all of my words are wrong.  We butt heads a lot.  We yell sometimes (ok, more than sometimes).  Then, we tell each other to stop yelling.  We tell each other to calm down.  I walk away from her, and she walks away from me.  We shut doors –and my fear is that we aren’t shutting doors, we are shutting down.  BUT….

I am the adult here!!!  I am the mom, right?!

 I should be able to climb my ass out of this nest, pull my shit together … but I am so sad.  Sure, I can look “ok.”  I can talk “ok.”  I can grocery shop, and buy shoes.  I can consistently buy clothes that my daughter refuses to wear even after she says, “I love it.”  (how long does that last!!!)  I can cook dinner, go to COSI, meet a friend for lunch, do laundry (although, I am really bad at that!!), I can go through the motions, but I am still trapped in that nest.  

She talks about him now.  The other day, she was at the park with me, and she was walking the perimeter beam, and she said, “My daddy showed me this.”  When we were swinging, I said, “Pump your legs.”  “My daddy showed me mommy.  MY daddy!”

She flips over the couch and jumps off the steps.  “Maris!! What are you doing??  Why are you doing that?  We are going to have to call 911!”  “MY daddy showed me.”

Nothing about our morning is like it was…HE was her morning.  I can still see them sitting side by side on the couch sharing cereal watching Good Day Columbus.  “Where’s Cameron today?”  ….I would come down the stairs to go to work, and he would say, “Look at mommy.  She is so pretty.”  She would holler to me, “Come hug mommy.  Hug daddy, too.  Family hug.“  Almost every day….that was the routine (adding in me running late everyday ….where’s my phone, I don’t like this sweater, I need another coat of mascara, I can’t find my purse….)  Many days, there would be, “One more hug mommy.”  I never walked away from one more hug from her or from him.  For all the times I was even a “little” later to work (like any commute, every minute counts!!)…I am and will always be grateful for another hug.  I just wish…the “another” could be…with him…with our family.  To have one more…. 

Her world is changed…and so is mine, but I am her mommy.

I will figure it out…if perhaps everyone could stop telling me HOW…and maybe….without sounding rude…maybe believe I can do it.    I know I have no other choice.  I know I have to do it.  I know I am her mother.  I AM going to raise her…but I just need a few voices that don’t advise…just believe.  I hope that doesn’t make me sound like a jerk—it is not my intention.  I am trapped in this nest.  I am trying to peek out.  I am breaking the twigs away piece by piece.  Hell, I trashed at least 8 opened bags of “chips” one at a time the other day.  I cussed out each bag:  Cheetos, Doritos, Honey BBQ Fritos, BBQ chips, Tortilla Chips, …I don’t even know!!!   So, maybe tossing chips isn’t the same as breaking away the twigs, but it’s a beginning.  I am having a hard time believing I can do this…but as one of my dearest friends said, “ You ARE doing this.”  

And … I guess she’s right.  I feel trapped, but I am breaking out, but I have to do it my way …my way OUR WAY.

A few evenings ago, Maris ran into Tim’s office.  It has 2 large windows.  She ran in, and I asked her what she was doing…She said, “Look mommy!  Look at the sky.  It is orange and pink, and it is so beautiful!”  I said, “Oh it is.”  (and I am thinking…ok, what would daddy say—this is his department!!!!).  I told her it was the sunset, and then it goes far, far across the sky.  Then she said, “It’s up high like daddy, but he’s not that high in heaven, so he can’t touch it.”  I said, “I don’t know how high he is, but daddy loved to look at the sky.  He loved the weather.  Maybe he can see the colors.”  Then she said (as she dramatically demonstrated this-actually jumping), “He jumps up high to touch them.”

I, too, am jumping as high as I can—maybe I am falling short, but I am jumping high, I am breaking those twigs, piece by piece…

…but in 10 weeks, 16 weeks, 30 week, I know that as this nest opens, I will still miss stretching my foot across the bed to feel his foot.    

End note:  I spend a lot!!!!! of time listening to music, and this song popped up a few weeks ago in one of my dozens of playlists…it caught me off guard because I had not heard it in so long.  The lyrics, the chorus… I would always tell Tim, “These words are love, dude.”  I am not sure if he ever bought into that statement, but he did like the song.   Just fucking beautiful….I have always thought these lyrics are fucking beautiful.

Stone Temple Pilots/Still Remain
https://youtu.be/nsCGdFnyabw

Pick a song and sing a yellow nectarine

Take a bath I'll drink the water that you leave

If you should die before me ask if you could bring a friend

Pick a flower hold your breath and drift away

3.14.2016 rambles

AHHH…the journey:

So, it has been only 38 days, and I am definitely in a state of denial—even though I say I am not. 

The rambles, the random thoughts, the questions, the concerns—the looks of sympathy…UGHHHHHH

They all swirl around and around— Then most of them land in 2 places:  the notes section of my phone and the late night texts (to those of you who have stayed awake “talking” to me—I sincerely thank you). 

When the mess-the horrible mess that completely fills my mind-not clouding it, but crushing it—when it has no where to go-- it gazes at bad reality TV and repeatedly listens to the same songs over and over and over-while I just lie on the floor by the fire…pretty much almost every night.

I can’t concentrate to read, and I am paralyzed by all of the things I need to do…ALL THE THINGS…and then there are the notations…

For today:  a glimpse: (just randomly picked)

2.17:  the canvas of Maris on the mantel falls—almost hitting her

2.18:  I don’t want to be the person of pity—so I am going to avoid all “events”

2.18:  my kid has no dad

2.18:  I am agitated at random moments…it’s like:   did I just yell??

2.18:  it’s barely been any time at all…and I am exhausted

2.23:  coffee pot makes a loud noise like it is heating up at 10:30 at night

2.24:  listening to her cry, seeing her tears—not being able to stop the tears

2.24:  will I ever curl up with someone again?

2.29:  the valentine banner keeps swaying

  3.8:  it looks like there are whiskers in his sink

I have yelled, and she has yelled.  She talks about daddy, and I call him MIT.  She looks like him all day long…and sometimes, it is hard to see him in her face.  Tonight (3.14) she said she wished he would come back home.  Me, too.

I have already been judged.  Some say they are proud and in awe of how I have handled all of this, and some say I should look-- hide my life---be the person who hides.  I don’t know how to be except to be me—whomever she may be…

I post on social media my journey, but then I am judged.  I am having too much fun, spending too much time with friends…whatever.  I could also post what I do most every night.  Reading with her, snuggling with her…listening her tell me that I am “the best girl ever”…but really after 11 pm, when everyone is asleep:  NOTHING.  Alone, feeling sad.  1am 2am 3am…

I get all these questions:

What are you going to do?

Are you keeping the truck?

What are you doing with the ashes?

Are you OK financially?

When and are you going back to work…and why not?????

What are you going to do next?  What do you think you want to do??

Will Maris stay in school this summer?

Are you applying for another job?

Are you cleaning out his stuff?

Have you been the therapy?

Is Maris going to therapy?

What do you do all day?

How are you?

How are you?

And the list goes on….

I have some answers, but I don’t have answers for all of them…

 I love Maris.  More than life……She is her daddy’s girl.  Maybe I am not doing it “right,” but after 5 weeks, I know that she is my focus—always.  I cry every single day.  I curse him every single day.  I love him.

And …our fav singer, Ray is coming to Cbus, finally after 3 years..and I have no one to go with…unless I am the “3^rd.”  I can’t recall the last time I was the 3^rd…bc I always invited the 3^rd,, but now….I am the 3^rd.

And now…I am the 3^rd.

And Maris has no one to help her find the Easter Eggs…

3.13.2016