In the following, “yesterday” refers to
March 7th, 2017.
Yesterday was a
day that brought a new beginning to this life that is somewhere in the
middle—of what often feels like…nowhere.
I drove out to
Blendon Woods Columbus Metropolitan Park.
I met up with two of the most incredible spirits who are greeted me with
warm smiles. I met the park director,
whom I immediately felt an instant friendship.
Then we hopped into the car and drove over to the ground where my
beginning was waiting for me.
When my husband
was killed suddenly in February of 2016 in the Ohio Valley area with 2 other
men, I found myself swimming---no drowning-
Drowning in words, requests, demands
Drowning in decision and tears
Drowning in the possibility that
despite a pain I couldn’t even
feel
yet—I might make the wrong choice, the wrong decision—
one
that couldn’t be changed…
When someone
dies, the survivors are given less than 24 hours to construct plans and make
choices. The survivors are likely
sitting around a kitchen table, as we were, listening to funeral directors ask
questions and present options. I don’t
know about anyone else, but on that day, as I sat there in my blue jeans and
blanket scarf that I had tossed into my bag the day before—having no idea that
that would be the “outfit” I would wear to plan my husband’s funeral services—I
wasn’t listening. As I sat there, I was
shaking so terribly that my brother in law had to take my hands. As I sat there, I just nodded and
agreed. Then, I stepped away from it.
When I arrived in
Athens with my friend and her family—she graciously had taken me out of the
Ohio Valley until the services. I can
recall lying on the couch, watching the damn snow fall across her lawn—a sign
that he was still with us. The funeral
director’s secretary (I think) spoke with me on the phone. Flowers were already coming. People from all over wanted to give money to
something—but what? I spoke with the
girlfriend of one of the other boys whom had passed, and she suggested that I
think of a charity…
BUT WHAT??
While, I don’t
exactly recall how the idea came about for the money to be put into a fund to
benefit the Columbus Metropolitan Parks, it stemmed off wanting to do more than
just put money into a college fund, and through talking with my friend, the
idea of something at a park arose, and then, as I sat curled up on the couch,
watching the flurry of flakes that seemed strangely reminiscent of my thoughts
scattering my mind, I made this decision. I sat and I, through the tears and the shock
and the ever-present cold, wrote a small blurb to be shared at the funeral home
and on social media.
The following are the words I typed into
my phone less than 2 days after Tim had passed….
On November 12, 2011, Maris Leigh Zugaro, our miracle baby, was
born. From the moment she arrived, her
eyes were bright and shiny, ready to take on the world. From that beautiful day forward, it was Maris
and Daddy...best friends for life.
Tragically, "for life" ended on February 6, 2016 when
Maris was just 4 years old. Her daddy
was killed in a car accident. Her last
words to him were, "I love you, bye" on a FaceTime call, as she
hugged the phone.
Daddies and daughters love to play. Maris and her Daddy, Tim, loved to play
outdoors. They loved to run, climb,
swing, jump, hike, go up big hills, splash in the water, climb through tunnels,
look for frogs and snakes, and laugh and laugh.
In honor of all of the daddies and their daughters, Maris would
like to keep the Columbus Parks alive, green, and full of uncharted adventures.
Thank you for your donation consideration. Daddy, we miss you already. Love, Maris and Mommy
And then the
whirlwind began…within 2 hours of posting, Tim’s legacy and love for his
daughter and their love for being together-at a park…raised $2,000
dollars. I couldn’t believe it…and the
money just kept pouring in… it was a brush of warmth in the midst of the year’s
coldest days.
As the days and
weeks passed, the funeral was over, and then I was home, just Maris and I. They closed the account after one month, and
the director of the funeral home sent me a check that just overwhelmed me. As I looked through the messages, I couldn’t
believe all of the people from so many areas of our lives, past and present…
that donated to this…idea…of…something, something that we didn’t know what it
would become.
I chose not to
contact the park director, whom actually knew Tim (and his name is Tim!) for a
long while. The weeks and months that
followed February 6th were wrought with pain—a pain I could never
ever explain. I wasn’t ready to do a
load of laundry, let alone broach the topic of how to spend this money. I felt like a re-occurring train wreck each
day, and I did not want to screw this up!
So, in a move that is very unlike my spontaneous, full throttle
personality…I paused.
And, then, I
called the director, and on a rainy morning, we sat in his office and
brainstormed. He sat with me, as I spoke
through tears about how I wanted this to be more than just a tangible item,
like a water fountain or a group of
stepping stones. He looked at me, and I
could tell he was thinking all of the same things I was…how can we make this
more than just a donation.
As we talked, we
began waxing on words…daddies and daughters, wild child, the Maris
Movement. We talked about how this could
become more about getting families back outside and spending time together,
playing, being creative, exploring, and getting dirty!
The next time we
met, we added in an expert in all things park related…Maris. We took her to an area of Blendon Woods that
is already designated as a “Natural Play Area,” an area that encourages
children to go off the pathways and let their imaginations run the course. Maris took to it immediately. She ran, she climbed, she played, and she got
very dirty! She was taking risks,
laughing, and she wasn’t listening to a single, “Be careful” from mommy. That is exactly who her daddy was, and in
watching her, I knew he was right there with us. It was during this visit that we knew this
was where we wanted to invest our ideas.
And then, there
was the presentation of the “model” of the park layout and an entire book of
the concept and proposed designs. I
can’t tell you how full my heart felt just looking at the ideas that were shown
to me. I just knew at that moment, we
were doing something really amazing—something that was more than a gift in
“memoriam.” We were about to change
Sunday afternoons at the park!
And then I met
with Peg, the Public Information Manager.
Well, obviously, the universe connected us. I was immediately attracted to all things
“Peg.” We sat and talked for over 2
hours about everything, and I knew that the next steps of this venture wouldn’t
be “handled.” From here on out, the
passion was our driving force. Peg
encouraged me to begin writing for the story boards that would be a the front
of this area.
I have to pause
here…I met Peg exactly one year and one day after Tim passed. The “one day” is where the “beginning” starts
to appear. It felt comforting to be
sitting in a chair embarking on the “new” instead of just swelling in the
old…the “what if’s” that had kept their hands on me so tightly for the past 365
days.
I wrote and
wrote, and nothing seemed right, and even as I sit here now, I am questioning
my words. How do I tell the story of
what happened and leave people feeling hopeful and inspired, rather than simply
sad and mournful? I am still sad and
mournful in randomly placed moments throughout each day…but I am still
hopeful. I still believe. Tim taught me so much about believing, and I
have this little face whom with her bright blue eyes commands me to believe and
have faith through each of those random moments…and I do.
Yesterday, I was
humbled in a way I don’t think I can describe with words. I love words, yet, I cannot seem to string
together a sentence that expresses what I saw yesterday.
When we got to
the site, I was struck immediately by these tall trees, shaved of their bark,
towering above me, some in triangular patterns, and others, standing solo. I was welcomed by the crew, on this day, a
group of 5 incredibly talented and dedicated dream weavers. They were excited to see me and to share
what they had been working do diligently to construct. Here, I stood among men that I knew Tim would
have instantly connected with, and I listened to every word they shared to
describe the process and journey. But, I
will be honest, I was simply in awe upon stepping onto the wet, muddy
ground. I think I thought I might just see some ground
clearing, so I was not prepared for the absolute wonder that was
everywhere.
As they walked me
through, they explained the plans for each area. What!?
This area just kept going and going.
At every turn, there was something new to see, and they had so many
creative and innovative ideas…I couldn’t help but be envious of brains that
tick like this! …genuinely blown away…
Over time, I will
show a few photos, and I will share a little of some of the insanely intricate
details, but as I sit here, typing away…I am also feeling suddenly
protective. I am feeling protective of
these men who have put their hearts into this project, of the park manager at
Blendon, of Tim and of Peg, and of all the brains and hearts that have
collaborated on this thus far (I hesitate to list too many names at this point
because I don’t want to leave anyone out!!).
I feel protective of the absolute joy they deserve when this is all
revealed at a groundbreaking ceremony sometime in April or May. I feel protective of Maris who will get to
visit tomorrow. This is her story, too. She may not be able to share her voice just
yet, but she will, and someday, she will tell the story of “Maris’s and daddy’s
park.” And I feel protective of Tim, my
sweet husband, whom I know without a pause or hesitation, was with me yesterday
as I walked over to the fence to cry, slow silent tears…of a mixture of missing
him terribly and feeling him everywhere.
I am grateful. I am
grateful.
I cannot wait to
see the rest of this story unfold, --no actually, I can. I don’t want to rush this …I want to do this…to
be in this-in this “beginning.” And… I
am so excited to share it with all of you, and for you to share it with your
children when they say, “Daddy, maybe we could go to a park?”
Stay tuned…
