Young Widow's Club

November 22, 2013

50 years ago today, our president John Fitzgerald Kennedy was assassinated with his wife at his side.  Our country is taking the time to reflect on the man that was JFK his life, legacy and presidency.  For me, I am reminded that his death left behind a widow and fatherless children.  Despite their very public notoriety, they still went through the same private grief after his sudden horrific death.  I have thought about JFK's death many times in my life, even though I wasn't even alive when it happened.  Now, I am connected to it in a much different way.  Now, it is personal.

In the picture above, Jackie Kennedy stood with her two very young children at the funeral of her husband,  with all the vulnerability, raw emotion and fear I felt 17 months ago.  Her children went through the same grief journey any child would as such a tender age.  Just 6 and 3 yrs old, they stood as their father's casket was carried past to be placed in his forever grave in Arlington National Cemetery.   Jackie had to do as many other young widows must do, find a way to cope with her pain and grief while tending to the complex needs of her children after the loss of their father.  She wasn't special just because she was the First Lady.  She didn't get a "pass" to grieve differently or better she just grieved. To the world she became more human and endearing. Like me, she was forced to discover and reinvent herself and her transforming her life into a  "new normal".  She was initiated into the club no woman ever wants to belong to - The Young Widow's Club.

  A week ago, another dear friend lost her husband suddenly to cardiac arrest.  He had been ill for quite some time so it was expected he would die sooner rather than later.  I received her text at 1:30 am on the 14th.  "Paramedics just took Steve to the hosp. Cardiac Arrest..."  What she went through in the early morning hours gave her a deja vu feeling. She told me that was one of her first thoughts. You see, EXACTLY 17 months before, I had sent her the exact same text, with Ron's name instead.  At that time, HER husband was in the hospital and we didn't expect him to survive, but he did.  I was prepping HER for the inevitable result and it was me who found myself needing the support.

Early that morning, Joan had to do the unimaginable, render emergency aid and CPR to her husband and watch helplessly as the paramedics carried him off.  She didn't know at the time she would never see her husband alive again.   Her children ages 9 and twins age 4 will now be without a father.  She will do what I did, Jackie Kennedy did and many women who have lost husbands - raise her family the best she can without a male figure in the house.  She will reinvent herself and find her new normal.  She is strong, she will make it.

As our nation reflects on the life and death of a president and the end of Camelot, I will take time to remember the tears of his widow and children.  To honor and respect the obstacles they had to overcome to survive and thrive.   I will bow my head and pray for all the Young Widows, who amaze and inspire others with their strength, courage and spirit as we are joined together as sisters in an extraordinary yet reluctant club.

Boundaries

originally begun on Oct 23, 2013, completed on Nov 17, 2013

Boundaries

A line in the sand?

As I move into the 15th month as a widow, I am learning more about setting better boundaries for my day to day life.  I have learned how to say no when I feel overburdened and to keep myself from feeling too overwhelmed with over scheduling my days.  It's vital that I focus on the important things in life such as time with my daughter, keeping order and cleanliness in my home and spending quality time with my friends and family.  Heading up every committee or group just isn't a priority for me right now.  I'm enjoying these days since school is back in session moving quietly from one task to another with little urgency at all.  This past week, I even had a leisurely lunch with a dear friend and another lunch with the girls! Oh the joy!

I have learned to set boundaries on my grief as well.  I would love to allow my sadness to be every part of my waking moments because, in a sick twisted way, pain and anguish connect me to Ron and his life here on earth.  When I miss him and ache for him, I am in a weird way "with" him.  I can't allow that to control my days and nights, grief must make an appointment.  I give that part of my heart time, but just not as much time as when it was fresh and new.   I allow grief to well up, just not overflow.  I take a deep breath in and let it out and then I take the next step.  It's part of this stage I suppose, I need to keep moving forward.

Loss also creates single parents.  It is not what I bargained for, not what I expected.  I loved parenting with Ron and we were good at it.  We were a team.  With becoming a single parent, certain challenges begin to present themselves.  Setting boundaries can become key to surviving this transition, however, as a newly single parent, setting boundaries can be more difficult to initiate.  Often, I feel tired and depleted and the ability to set a firm line in the concrete is difficult.  Not just with my little one at home, but also with the older kids as well!  I remember being a single mom (even when I was married before, I truly was parenting alone most of the time) and having 4 kids who all wanted my attention and each had their own agenda.  I allowed myself to answer without thinking saying "no" without really looking at the situation.  I was TIRED, I didn't want to think, evaluate or decide.  Then, a little later, I would think about it and end up changing my mind.  That was such mistake as kids do catch on to a parent's indecisiveness.  They learned how to manipulate and shift decisions in their favor, just by how and when they made their request.  I thankfully learned and began to change how I communicated with my children over decisions and requests.

What I learned during my first go round parenting experience, I have applied to my youngest daughter.  I know now to set boundaries about when I will provide answers.  If I am on the phone and she asks for something - the answer is immediately NO.  If I am talking to another adult and she makes a request - again NO.  She is learning to wait, be patient and prioritize her wants and needs before running them past me.

Setting boundaries then and now.  I wonder if the way I go about setting boundaries today is based on my experience with kids or experience with life? I think maybe a nice combination of both, and I am grateful for the knowledge.

Living my Bliss, My Passion?

This is a post I wrote a while ago, just didn't finish it until now. 



September 20, 2013

It is interesting how so soon after taking the incredible leap with my child and eliminating the car safety seat, that I was faced with a similar opportunity in my own personal life.  I was at a birthday party this weekend and I had a conversation with two very powerful and spiritually connected women. Somehow, even though I don't know either of them very well and we have never had truly intimate conversations about spirituality or beliefs, our conversation honed in immediately to our chosen spirituality, goals and life purpose. That's how matters of the spirit work, placing beings together at exactly the right time to make things happen.  I was asked a point blank question "If you could do anything without fear or expectation and it would get you EXACTLY what you want in life - what would you do?".  Wow, no safety nets allowed!!  My response? Simply, "Write".  That was my immediate, uncensored thought. I do love writing and sharing and teaching.  Is this ALL I want to do?  No, but if I could choose one thing to fulfill me, nurture me and create peace it would be to write books that help people through major transitions in their lives.  Birth, child rearing and death. What would you do with your life if you could leap empty handed and blindfolded into the great unknown?  If you had nothing to fear, nothing to lose?  No safety seats, no protection devices.  What I want so intensely is to live my passion and bliss, yet what I feel I MUST do is keep my focus on creating security.  How do I balance the two so I can end up with a fulfilled life?



Follow your Bliss and the Universe will open doors for you, where there were only walls.  

Sage advice, from a man I admire and respect.  Joseph Campbell.  A mythologist and cross cultural anthropologist who wrote on the subject of intention, purpose, and the story or mythology that connects each of us to another and connects ourselves to an inner force.  I find myself at an impasse and without that sense of balance, drive and passion for what tomorrow should be.  Maybe it is a form of depression that keeps me slightly off balance and disconnects me from that inner force or light. I also think trying to figure out what my next chapter is going to be while I am still actively grieving is tantamount to a Sysiphean task.  I can't possibly think clearly and with purpose when my core thoughts are rooted in sadness.


I will "noodle" on this concept for a while but it is the quote from Joseph Campbell that will be my guide-on, my sail, my weather vane.  Follow your Bliss. 

Carseat Safety on a long Widow's Road

September 15, 2013

Today, my youngest child will be "graduating" from her 5 point LATCH system car seat/booster to a simple booster than merely lifts her a few inches higher in the seat.  She will no longer be protected by 30 lbs of molded plastic, harnesses and metal buckles.  Just a seat belt and a smile as we drive down the road.  This transition has created so much anxiety in me as I ache for assured safety. With all that we have been through in the past 15 months, it's no wonder!  I want to envelop my precious child in a bubble wrap of protection so nothing could ever happen to her. I know that it is impossible to shield her from everything and so now it is time to "let go" a little more and trust in the Universe.  You would think - "oh, this child must be 3-4 years old!"  Nope, she is 7 yrs 9 months.  She is 56" tall and weighs about 82 lbs - the average size of a 9 1/2 yr old.  Yea, it's time.

When my older children were little, they were completely out of car seats by the time they were 2-3 years old.  I buckled them into the back seat and off we would go.  I never thought twice about it because that is just what we did back then.  The twins were little enough, I would buckle them into the same seat belt - How times have changed!  The laws now dictate children 8 yrs old and under 100 lbs require some kind of car safety restraint system.  27 years ago, the laws only stated infants had to be placed in a car seat on the way home from the hospital.  I actually carried my 29 year old in my arms all the way home from the hospital!  50 miles through the desert.  Life moves faster now, and people are more distracted.  The new car seat laws are made to prevent tragedy and great bodily harm.  Wouldn't it be nice if we could prevent ALL tragedies in life by transporting ourselves in a safety device with a special latch system?

 As I travel the long and windy Widow's Road, I long for a strong safety seat to protect me from all the bumps, potholes and rocky roads ahead.  My husband was that safety for me, he was the one who "had my back" and  provided that layer of protection when the rest of the world became too overwhelming.  Locked in the strength of his arms and his love, there was no road hazard that could affect me.  With the sudden and unexpected loss of my husband, I find myself cautiously approaching new experiences, waiting for assurance all will be well once I step both feet in. My challenge is letting go of fear of the unknown and allowing myself to leap empty handed with my eyes closed and experience what life has to offer. 

  The journey along the road of Widowhood requires a certain amount of risk taking, willingness to allow the road ahead to unfold unexpectedly and ability to navigate hairpin turns.  While playing it safe might be what one WANTS, it is not necessarily what one NEEDS to bridge to the next chapter in life.  The Widow's road while difficult to navigate leads to a place of renewed hope, treasured memories and everlasting strength to tackle anything that lies ahead.  As always, I look to my Village for love, support and understanding as I experiment with each new step.

Where shall the road take us today?

The Grief Monster



August 30, 2013

I was thinking about this thing called grief and how often times it is like the monster in the closet that children fear at bedtime.  It sits, waiting for the lights to dim and the house to settle before showing its face - or just pops out of nowhere to send me in a spiral.  Since I have been on this grief journey, I notice it is most often at night where the sadness, anguish and longing for what was, creeps around in the shadows and taunts me with the unknown fears and anxieties that come with being a widow and single mom to 7 kids.  I was searching the internet to see if there was any literature or information on my made-up entity called the "Grief Monster" and found this picture of a children's book on grief.  So, it wasn't so made up after all.  The "Grief Monster" is real.


I have shifted into a new space in my journey as a widow, that of a support to other new widows.  There are far too many, and they are far too young to be on this path.  What I hear time and time again is that their bed is the place to go when all the new realities become overwhelming.  Any time of day, to run and jump under the covers shutting out the day or the night seems to bring a sense of protection and insulation from the constant barrage.  I also hear it is the nights that bring forth the scary dreams, fears, anxieties, regrets, anger and all the dark emotions linked to losing their spouse.  The night is not our friend.

It is a bit of a paradox this relationship between the safety and comfort of my bed and the predictable anxiety-ridden nightfall. I recall the nights after Ron died, my bed was a refuge at the end of the day.  I actually looked forward to the time I could be done with all the activity and I could snuggle in to the blankets and sheets and wrap myself in a protective cocoon.  All of the day's troubles were pushed away for that instant and I could pretend none of it was real.  Sadly, as the night progressed, that refuge became a torturous mess of bad dreams, sleepless nights and a reminder - he was gone and would never hold me, comfort me, make love to me in that bed again.  The Grief Monster knows how to take away peaceful moments and turn them into darkness.

I honestly thought after a year, I wouldn't be susceptible to the Grief Monster's scare tactics.  I thought by now I would be immune to the affects of sudden unexpected bursts from the shadows, but that just isn't so.  I don't always react as intensely as I used to of course but it still causes me to pause and realize - Ron is gone forever.  Today, the Grief Monster reared its ugly head and attacked full force.  I was cleaning out my extra refrigerator and saw that the infertility meds were still there.  I had been ignoring the fact they were taking up an entire drawer for the last 2 years. 

I still held out hope we would try again - even after an early miscarriage/chemical pregnancy in April 2011.  We bought the medications for our next IVF cycle and then I began to notice Ron wasn't doing so well.  He was really slowing down and was having a harder time keeping up.  I decided to put off an IVF cycle to see if things improved with him.  I thought "give it a year" - well, in exactly 1 year he was gone forever.  That baby we had both wanted so badly would never be.

Today, when I cleaned out the drawer and placed the expired medications in the trash, if felt like I was peeling off my own skin.  All the emotions just rushed to the surface and I was a crumbled mess of tears, snot and aching heart.  I miss that man so very much and letting go of the hope, the possibility of new life is excruciating.  There is nothing that will ever fill the place in my heart like he did.

That damn Grief Monster, how do I tame it?  I need a new, updated version of Grief Monster Spray like I used for my kids when they were afraid to go to bed at night.  I would make billions.

Second Generation Education

August 14, 2013

Most of this blog has been about my grief journey and how life has changed and evolved over the last 14 months since my husband, Ron died.  While I am still processing my grief and it certainly impacts much of my daily life experiences, it's time to morph this blog to include my original intent. It is time to begin writing about my experience parenting over two generations.   I have 7 kids in all.  5 I gave birth to and 2 I helped raise, got through their teens and helped pay for college.  I say they count, right?  The ages of the kids at this time are 7 yrs - 30 yrs.  That is a complete separation of one generation.  That is what makes me a "Multi-Generational Mom"! 

It is that time of year, back to school.  The annual event that leaves kids with a sense of dread and angst and parents jump for joy!  Well, that is what the posts on Facebook lead one to believe.  I have been sending kids back to school for 25 years now.  From that first day my oldest son was scooted off to Kinder I have planned, prepped, shopped and filled out numerous forms and emergency cards.  I think I calculated about 500 forms I have had to print neatly and make sure were turned in on time over the last 25 years. Exhausting!

When my older kids went to school, it was simple (so it seemed).  You registered your child in the neighborhood school, whichever was closest to your home, bought a few "Pee Chee" folders and off they would go!  There was no discussions of dissatisfaction with the "system" or the principal or school board.  It was the only choice you had, unless you could afford private school.  Back then, private schools were for the socially and financially elite or the religious.  Rarely would someone go to a private school because the belief was the education gained was better quality than the local public school campus.

Now, with my youngest daughter it seems the search for the "just right" fit is endless, exhausting and the most tedious process I have had to endure.  Helping my kids choose colleges was easier! From her first preschool experience to today, I have toured or researched 30+ schools and explored 10+ home school options.  At the tender age of 7, she has already attended 4 different schools!  Each time, changing because it was no longer the right place to nurture and encourage her academic, emotional and social needs.  To be fair, the first two timed out based on their programs, but 4 schools in 5 years?  I would have NEVER in a million years done that with my older kids.  In fact, despite a couple moves in our home, I sometimes schlepped them 15 miles each way to keep them stable and in the same school.

Is it possible that schools and education have changed that much or have I evolved as a parent with better intuition and awareness of the time to move on when my child's needs are not being met.  What is more important for the child - stability or challenges?  What is so different about today's child that there must be that perfect school experience?  I think honestly, society has programmed us to believe the school is the place where educational needs must be met and met properly.  A child will not prosper in tomorrow's world unless they are tested, evaluated and shaped in a specific way today.  I must admit, I am now a product of that propaganda.  Not all propaganda is bad of course... It is what it is.

I look around at my peers, who are all parenting for the first time around and are on average 38 yrs old.  Most of them spend a great deal of time and tour many schools before placing their child.  Often sending their children to different school districts to help meet the needs of each individual child!  I remember when I was pregnant, hearing that parents were registering for a special "Mommy & Me" class BEFORE they were pregnant to make sure they got a spot.  The fight for the premier educational experience began pre-conception.  Parents, parents to be or potential parents were on waiting lists for preschools for YEARS.  I thought this was the DUMBEST thing I had ever heard, until I began my search and realized how many options existed.  Ultimately, I do think it is mostly a geographic phenomenon as I was now living in the West Valley and when starting my older children in school, I lived in the Inland Empire. 

For my daughter, I feel her educational journey is complicated (really this is a complication?) by being tested as gifted.  She typically operates at a grade level or more above her age level peers and her analytical/critical thinking is that of a child many years her senior.  Public school has already failed her and even private school  does not keep her interested.  20 years ago, I would never have questioned the school, I would have just kept her moving forward and up the ladder as her age progressed and hoped for a gifted program at some point.  Now, after a year plus at a local private Montessori school, I find once again the environment is not suitable for my daughter.  Her academic and social needs are no longer being met and in such a small environment, it is unlikely that will change.  I am doing the brain melting job of trying to figure out where she should go next.  My options?  Two local public school districts, one which is a disaster and the other is nearly impossible to get into.  Then there are a few other private schools or homeschool.  Since I am a widow and must still work, run a business and maybe have a moment to myself once in a while, the homeschool option while attractive from so many different levels may not be in the best interest of her or I.  Selfishly, I would love a few hours to myself each day.  On the other hand, just as selfishly - I want to be the one to guide her and educate her, spending quality time watching her grow.

This is where the rubber hits the road.  I am angry right now that I must make this decision and go through the evaluations all on my own.  I do not have anyone who is invested in her educational journey like I am that can weigh in on the choices.  It all falls on me and I am so tired.

Today, it is 14 months since Ron died.  His voice is faint.  I need to hear his wisdom, his love and his insight.   I liked how we co-parented.  We were an amazing team.  Parenting is different now and while I am experienced in the realm of sending a child off to school, finding the best place for the long haul is a daunting task.   I like to think my years of experience and my ability to see the results of my previous choices give me a unique perspective.  Ultimately, all I want as a parent is for my daughter to be healthy physically, emotionally and psychologically and have an education she enjoys and can subscribe to with joy.  I think that is what all parents want. 

I have my second generation education and a decision must be made. 

Advice for the newly Widowed

7/29/13

I got the word, it had happened.  Brian had died.  This hit me like a ton of bricks.  I hadn't seen much of Brian over the past few years, he lived in Big Bear and was busy with family and work. I barely knew his wife.  Still, the news hit me like it was my closest acquaintance, dearest friend, family.

Just two hours or so before, I was driving up the coast to Big Sur on the way to a 4 day camping trip with my daughter.  I started to get very emotional, tears were welling up and I couldn't figure out why.  I felt deep anguish and the source was not clear.  I tried to gut check to see if I was thinking about Ron or something to do with our life and love, and while I am always thinking about him, that wasn't it.  I tried to shake it so I could be happy, joyful for my daughter and our latest adventure.  It shouldn't have come as a shock to learn - but those tears were created after a great disturbance in the force - the moment Brian died.

Brian died from Melanoma after a 4 year battle.  Brian was my cousin.  He was only 44 years old and left behind a wife and two children ages 16 & 20

What was it about this death that shook me to the very inner core of my  being?  Probably that the death of my own husband was still so fresh, even though a year had passed.  I couldn't shake the resurgence of memories of Ron's last breath, his last heartbeat and the last time I felt his skin on mine.  I knew, another woman was going through the gut wrenching reality of losing her love, soul-mate and best friend.  I ached for her and her children.  Somehow, the Universe connected us with a very thin strand joining together two women dumped into our new realities.

I was desperate to talk to Aprille.  I wanted to tell her that she was going to make it, be ok and all that.  I wanted to assure her that while right now everything seemed like an ending and breathing had to be a conscious activity, ultimately she would survive this.  I wanted to stand before her and show her that it is possible to live after the death of her husband.  I could not reach out to her though, too much and too overwhelming. Plus, I was far from cell service and any contact.  I had to wait.

The day before the funeral, I sat down and wrote her a letter.  It was my way of providing guidance, support and love.  I told her a bit about my experience over the last year and some things that seemed to help me during those first few weeks after Ron's death.  I also told her some of the things I had learned in my last year's journey being a young widow.  I hope it helped and continues to help as she sorts through her life and works to create her new normal.

What did I tell her?

1.  Right now, today and until you are ready for more - you have two jobs.  1. Breathe in  2. Breathe out.  That's it. Nothing else matters.
2.  You do not HAVE to do anything in anyone's time frame other than your own.  You will know when it is time to take the next step.
3. FEEL.  Grief hurts.  Allow yourself to feel the pain of your terrible loss.  If you don't do it now, it will still be there later and just might be a little more painful.
4. People are clueless - they don't mean to be but few know the right words to say to someone who experienced a loss.  You will hear a lot of attempts to comfort you - don't expect any of it to give you peace or solace.  It's ok, let them comfort you anyway.  BE with people and allow their friendship and love to hold you up until you are strong enough to stand on your own.
5.  Right now, only three people count.  You, your son and your daughter.  That is your core and cornerstone.  Hold on tight to each other.  The rest of the world can wait.
6. Talk about Brian.  Tell stories, and yes, you will smile and laugh.  It's ok.  Laughter and smiles are you celebrating his LIFE.  You are not a bad person if you enjoy a moment.  He would love to see you smile - even if through tears.
7. Allow yourself to feel other emotions - anger, resentment, fear, anxiety.  They are all a part of the grief soup.
8. One day, when you are ready, take little steps forward.  Tackle small jobs first - baby steps, one moment, one day at a time.
9.  Hold on to the love.  Love will guide you, nurture you, support you and push you back to reality.  It is the intense love you had for each other that will help you live again, in your new normal.
10.  You will make it.  You will survive.  100% guaranteed.  You are a strong woman and you won't let Brian down.  You will survive and thrive.

So, if you have someone in your life who recently lost a partner, love, spouse please feel free to pass this on.  I hope it helps someone in their terrible time of grief, or helps someone support a person who is experiencing a loss.

I still have a lot of work to do in my own grief journey, but I have excellent tools and supportive guides to get me to the next steps.

The Terrible Twos

July 9, 2013

 


I am into the second year after losing my husband Ron to a sudden heart attack and the way I thought I would feel  - well, I just don't.  I am still constantly sad, I constantly miss him and always think about what he would say or do in any given situation.  I have not moved on - although I have taken steps to attempt that part of the process.  I am not healed - although I find some solace in less pain deep in my heart.  I am still grieving nonetheless.

The second year, some say, is supposed to be easier.  I have already been through all the "firsts" so the second year through should be easier - right?   I think in some ways the second year is worse.  I liken the experience to that of a new parent.  Strange to think of new life being so much like end of life, but in some ways it is similar.  When a baby is brought home from the hospital, it is new, strange, with many adaptations to the addition.  There are many long nights awake with much crying.  This crying is the newborn of course, but after loss, it is the grieving whose tears fill the night.  Those first long nights and days with a newborn are spent trying to figure out this new life and how it fits in to the old routine, and in grief it is spent trying to figure out how to live without the one you love so deeply and create a new routine without them.  Most of the first year with a newborn, parents are in a fog, dazed by lack of sleep, worry and confusion.  In grief, the shock creates an anesthetic effect that numbs you to all but the most vital. Life is a fog, almost unintelligible and processing is slow to any activities or just life in general.   As you approach the end of the first year with a baby, it is with wonder and amazement at how well you did, how you managed, excelled even as a new parent.  The one year also marks the crossing point to end the firsts.  All the first holidays, events, activities experienced with a new child in the home. The end of a year with a new baby is a time to celebrate and pat each other on the back at what pros you have become. In grief, the approach to the year marks a no turning back point.  The place where you can't say "it's the first without..."  It is not a time to look back with joy at all the changes and accomplishments, even though I know I have accomplished much as a newly single mother and woman, celebration is the last thing on the mind of the grieving.  For me, the year anniversary was a date I dreaded for weeks.  It meant I had to DO something different because I was different.  I wasn't counting my loss in weeks any longer - it was now months or years.  I've been a widow for a year.  It makes me shudder to say it out loud.

When a child approaches their second birthday, people stand back with knowing looks and a bit of reminiscent terror in their eyes "Terrible Twos" they whisper.  Oh, just you wait - those terrible twos are coming up!  In grief - I believe the second year deserves those hushed warnings as well.  The second year, you are without the comfort of anesthesia and shock, you must now wind your way through all the "seconds" without the protection of not feeling each bit of sadness, pain and anguish as you relive the death and all that follows.  The terrible twos of grief mean you feel EVERYTHING.

365 days.  525,600 minutes.  How do you measure a year in a life?  How do you measure it in death?  Each day means another 1,440 minutes go by.  Do you know how many heartbeats that is?  For Ron, it would have been 77,760 heartbeats.  I counted them often at night as I lay my head on his chest, listening for any changes or missed beats.  The sound of his heart beating beneath my ear was comforting and gave me hope that he was thriving.  I can remember the feeling of his warm, hairy chest and the strong arm that held me.  But the heartbeat was most comforting to hear and feel.

As I move into the second year without Ron, I will strive for health, happiness and to retain the memories of a man I loved deeply.  Terrible Twos - you can't take me down.  I am one tough chick and I do not fall easily!

Fatherless Day

June 16, 2013


Today is Father's Day.  For our house, it is Fatherless Day.

My oldest son has not seen nor heard from his father in about 25 years.  We think we know where he is, but he has chosen to stay away.  It astounds me that any man would choose to not see their child grow and become a part of their adult world.  My son's father was originally a nice guy.  Good looking, talented artist and very athletic.  We had a great time together and of course, made a child together.  Unfortunately, our relationship grew sour - very sour and we divorced early in my son's life.  I tried to do the right thing and assist with the bond, supporting visitation and time with his father, but it soon became evident other things were more important to his father.  Drugs being the most destructive.  With time, drugs became his companion and my son was a mere memory.

As my son grew older, he did have moments missing and wondering about this guy called "dad", but he had a strong mom who moved the mountains and the earth and he did not need a dad.  That's what he would tell me anyway.  He would give me a Father's Day card now and then to make the point that I was enough.  I was all he needed.

I did marry again, unfortunately to divorce again 10 years later.  Another man in and out of my son's life.  Sadly, that man abandoned my son and left him fatherless once again.  A few years later, I met my true love, my soulmate, partner and best friend.  My husband Ron.  He stepped in and stepped up in a way I could never have imagined.  He wasn't always easy, but my kids all knew who he was and where he stood.  He loved them all fiercely and soon, my oldest son softened and while he would never call him "dad", he was in every other way - the only REAL father he had experienced.  Ron taught Chris about tools, told dirty and inappropriate jokes, taught him how to drive, shave and how to treat a woman with love, kindness and respect.  He would chastise, warn and reprimand when necessary and worry, fret and get angry when they didn't see eye to eye.

On that terrible day, just a year ago, my son once again lost another father.  This time to the unchangeable.  Death.  He is thankfully a grown man now, nearly 30 but it was still a painful loss.  I want to erase time and give him the consistency of a father who never leaves, but that is not possible.

Now, my youngest daughter must live her life similar to her brother - she will be fatherless as well. It makes days like today particularly painful because I can't change the fact - there is no more daddy to make cards for.  When all the kids at school excitedly put together the projects to present to daddy on the Sunday morning - she will be left out or given another project to do.  Always reminders will surround her - she doesn't have a daddy.

Today, the Universe provided for both of them as they came together, the 29 yr old man and the 7 year old girl - both 'celebrating' Fatherless Day by being together, playing silly games and pretending it was just another day.  Just another Sunday.  I can only hope their bond continues and they can find solace knowing this man called Daddy, dad or just Ron loved them both so much and would be very pleased to see them supporting each other through love and a smile and true understanding.

Transitions

June 12, 2013

 

In two days it will be a year.  A year since Ron suddenly and unexpectedly died from a massive heart attack.

Life is full of transitions, birth, childhood, college graduations, love, marriage, friendships gained and lost and death.  They say it is not what happens to you in your life, but HOW you deal with it that counts the most.  I have been told repeatedly how "well" I am handling Ron's death, with strength, grace, poise and class.  It is wonderful to hear such praise, yet at times I feel as if people don't really know or understand this grief process I have had to endure.

The smile on my face, the ease of my steps and the strength of my presence are a mere facade and do not allow much of a view into the hurt, pain, anger and sadness beneath.  It is a daily struggle when I wake each morning knowing my life will never be the same and the person I loved will never again hold my hand, touch my face or kiss my lips.  I must make an effort each day to get up, pull up my big girl pants and step firmly into my new normal with as much confidence and backbone as I can muster.

This transition to becoming a widow is in the grand scheme of life, just another turn in the road.  It is a HUGE turn, but a turn nonetheless. Friday, I have decided, is the day I will remove my wedding band.  It is symbolic of the end of our marriage by death.  Til death do us part.  I won't stop loving Ron, but the symbol of our union, our marriage must be set aside.  It is time to take another turn, as a widow, and face the world without the protection of our partnership.  I must accept that I am no longer a married woman and be the strong, independent, single woman this transition has created.  This doesn't mean I am ready to date or even consider a new relationship, first I must reconcile the new relationship I have with myself and my daughter.  I have work to do, but this internal work must be done alone.  Not saying I don't need my Village - oh I need you all more than ever!  Without that support, I could never take another step.

I have two more sleeps until I must relive that terrible day - and yes, it is inevitable that I will relive it.  I will play each and every moment of that day over and over in my head, trying to connect to any little memory, feeling or sensation that brings me closer to the memories of Ron as he was that day. I will approach that bridge to the other side, the second year of being a widow and I will cross over.  Like all the other transitions in my life, I will breathe, smile, cry, sob, laugh and most of all - I will LIVE.

Pieces of You

Catching up on some posts I started a while ago, but never finished...

March 7, 2013


Today, I received a bill in the mail from my infertility doctor, Dr. Brian Acacio. It was for a year's worth of sperm storage. This piece of news takes me completely by surprise and shakes me to the core of my being. To think that living matter belonging to my husband still exists on this planet when he is no longer here makes me want to run as fast as I can to grab it and go through a cycle to conceive a baby, OUR baby. The baby we were supposed to have together.  I had no idea there was anything left to store after our attempt to conceive 2 years prior.  We wanted to expand our family - together.  It was our desire to bring another child into our fold and while we thought it might not be possible to have a biological child after so many failed attempts and a loss, there was still hope.

I still struggle with the missing pieces and what path would be appropriate given my current situation.  Who in their right mind would even consider bringing a baby into a home with 7 children and a dead daddy. I know I have so much going for me and my world could soon be my own.  I have lived my entire life raising children and focusing on the needs of others, should I now shift and start to meet my own needs?  Could it be that my own needs ARE to meet the needs of others?  I try to imagine my life without little ones running around, wiping noses, doing piles of laundry and shuttling kids off to soccer practice and dance class - and just don't get excited.

The idea of adoption also weighs heavily as just the night before Ron died, we sent an email to an attorney inquiring about the adoption process.  We really did want one more child.  We were open to bringing a child who very much needed the love we could share.  The gift of our love for each other, our family and life in general.  Maybe I could sign up to foster children first to see if I am really ready or equipped to handle bringing another child into my home. 

This is as of June 12, 2013 an unanswered question, although I truly believe the Universe will bring forth exactly what should be - it always has.

Gestation

3/14/13

It's been 9 months since Ron died.  9 months is also the approximate amount of time it takes to gestate a human baby.  I feel like I have accomplished a gestation of sorts after taking over Ron's consulting business after his death in June. The painful adjustments trying to find my way through his paperwork, files and his compulsive lack of organization.  The stretch to feel confident in my knowledge base to help these schools on my own.  The aching muscles from sitting at a desk far longer than I could ever imagine - or desired. And now, the aching in my belly as I must let go and go back to my life of freedom from computers, telephones, spreadsheets and bids. Tomorrow I get to "birth" my results and while I still have some work to do - my efforts will pay off in spades.  I have just finished the YR16 E-Rate applications for my clients across the country and I am proud to say they now will have $5 MILLION dollars to help with their educational technology to offset the huge budget cuts to their schools.  I feel accomplished and sad at the same time.  This was my husband, Ron Weiler's baby.  He was amazing at what he did and I wish he was here to take a look around and see what good has come from his work.  We started our little company 12 1/2 years ago and it became his livelihood.  I miss him being here today, not just because I had to do ALL the work in his place :), but because I know how much these schools meant to him and how much passion he had for helping schools get their much needed funding. And, if I may... I did all this while spearheading my Girl Scout Troop's Cookie Sales campaign selling 7,214 boxes of cookies!!!! Happy end of Girl Scout Cookie and E-Rate season to me! <3 <3 <3

Unspoken Vows

March 8, 2013

My brother was married today to a wonderful woman whom I admire and adore. I was so happy to be a part of their special day and to partake in the emotional union of two people who have through all the muck and bilge in the world, sifted through the crumbs and found each other.

I paid special attention to this ceremony of love and trust, especially the vows. Each of the words carefully chosen by our cousin, Carl who officiated the ceremony. There were many religious references and credit given to God and Jesus for this pairing.  Being of the non-religious sort, I didn't get too caught up in all the Jesus speak, but could appreciate the solemnity of the words my cousin so meticulously and artistically chosen. I loved the bits of laughter, the wiping of tears and the blessings of the rings which would serve as a symbol to the world of their union. As they placed the rings on each other's fingers, you could barely hear the vows spoken to each other in hushed tones sprinkled with so much emotion about loving, honoring and cherishing - until death does part us.

That is where I was shoved into the back of my chair and stopped dead in my tracks. Until death parts us?? Does this mean when I spoke those vows, I was saying that all the love, honor and cherish part just automatically goes away once death has parted us. I don't think so! Who came up with this crap so long ago? Who made the assumption that the vows spoken on the day of joining two lives ends upon death? Is this a contract that becomes null and void once the heart stops beating? Are we no longer held by the constraints of the bonds of marriage because the breath ceases to exist?

I was completely dumbfounded to realize that the vows so often spoken in wedding ceremonies all over the country were a load of hogwash. I did not stop loving Ron when he died. I did not stop cherishing and honoring him because he was buried beneath the earth. I may have loved him a little more because he was gone, my love was actually more concentrated because I had to love enough for both of us. He was not a part of the equation any longer and yet I did not stop loving him.

My thoughts drifted to the life we had expected to live. We had a vision of our older years sitting in the swing he built on the back porch of our home looking over the vast expanse of our backyard with our grandchildren and great grandchildren frolicking about in white batiste clothes. It was such a dreamy vision that gave me a sense of peace and content. My life was supposed to be this fantastic plan but Ron's death turned that plan inside out.

When we took our vows 11+ years ago, how could be have known I would be sitting alone on that porch swing, wistfully trying to recapture the feelings of that special day so long ago, when we became man and wife, in the very same backyard and our love was sealed with a kiss.

 

Awakenings

February 28, 2013

I was walking around my bedroom looking at all the things that have remained untouched since that terrible day in June.  The pile of his laundry, still unwashed in the hamper.  The closet full of his clothes, including the suit he wore to a wedding just 2 weeks before he died, still perfumed by his manly cologne.  The medicine cabinet has been stripped of all the many medications that sustained him for years yet the space where they sat is filled with the memory of fear, anxiety and waiting - for the worst. Now, the worst has already happened.



It has been 8 1/2 months since Ron died and I still can't bring myself to open the drawers to his dresser let alone clear out his belongings.  Why is it that the process of cleaning and clearing out his personal effects feels more permanent than seeing his body placed in the wooden casket and lowered into the ground?  The silent slumber as I caressed his face on the last day I laid eyes on him?  I search my mind, heart and soul for the source of my reticence to let go and I can only find a scared, lonely girl child who just wants to be loved, and to love in return.  It is a stab to my soul to think all his belongings are just waiting there, in the drawers, closet, cabinets.  Waiting for him to pick his attire for the day.  His socks, underwear, t-shirts.  Shoes all in a row.  And the hardest to face, his ties.  Those magical ties chosen so carefully with his personality and business needs in mind.  The strong colors of the power ties for big business meetings.  The fanciful, fun ties for going out, or to weddings.  The softer, yet dramatic ties hand picked by our daughter to coordinate with her festive frocks for the Father-Daughter dances.  They all sit, waiting.

Part of the letting go process means that a new awareness must be developed.  An awakening of the heart to accept the next phase of what is to be, what is to become.  There are times when I feel the fluttering of this new experience and am ready to open myself to the unknown and even feel hopeful that I will survive Ron's death.  That hope is far too often dampened by the mist of rememberance and the cloudy fog attempting to forget. 

I attend my Young Widow grief groups and see other widows and widowers as they go through exactly what I am experiencing, but they all do it differently, in their own way. The fact there must be a special group for us, being young and not crotchety old folks who bid their spouse of 65 years adiou after passing in their sleep is comical.  We didn't live out our expected lives together, it was taken from us without permission and without a warning for most.  They all have shared a process that worked based on their situations. Some cleaned out their spouse's clothing and personal items right away.  Others haven't touched their spouse's toothbrush or hair brush and everything remains just as it was the day they walked out of the house for a Sunday bike ride or to work in the garage or head out to work for the day.  We all experienced our spouse's deaths differently.  Some after an illness and others so suddenly, it is almost like they were snatched from the earth without a sound.  Regardless of HOW it happened, each of us are finding our way down this winding path of uncoupling ourselves from the marriage, life and love we expected to live until long past our aging grey hairs took over the pigments of our youth.

These little awakenings to my new reality and new normal are roused by each sunrise as I awake yet again, seeing his side of the bed empty.  It shivers when I see his picture and ask out loud "where are you?  WHERE ARE YOU?"  It is the silence and lack of an answer that awakens me again.

I fight that space between slumber and awake, thinking to myself "I am not just Ron's widow, I am me, Nicole."  I must awaken completely so I can fully discover the new dawn, sunrise and start of tomorrow, yet I am not ready to fully escape the slumber, sweet dream state of pretending.  Pretending I am not alone and he is only temporarily away.  Do not awaken me too soon, or I won't have the strength to stand and face the bright sun.  I want to close my eyes and dream, dream of you my love. Maybe it's better if you awaken me tomorrow, Today I will dream.

King of Hearts

February 13, 2013

I have been looking at pictures of Ron the past couple days and instead of seeing his smiling face with those deep dimples and twinkling eyes, I could only picture him lying in his plain pine casket, frozen in time.  From somewhere deep inside my soul, someplace in the far reaches of my heart came an unexpected, racking sob.  I felt empty and alone in a way I hadn't remembered since the night he died.  I remembered the coolness of his hand in mine as I said my final goodbye and the roughness of his stubbly face against my cheek as I kissed him for the very last time.  It is a body memory that stays with me to this day.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, the day of hearts and flowers and sweetly wrapped sparkly surprises.  Tomorrow is the day for love and lovers.  There will be red hearts everywhere I look.  Red hearts which used to represent the bond of two people joined together by love, time and history. Now, hearts represent betrayal and loss.  You see, it was a heart that betrayed our love - not the esoteric wanderlust heart, but the muscle and sinew of the pumping orb that sustains life heart.  The four chambers and valves that together create the tick-tock of ones life-force.  It was, in the end, a heart that took him from me forever. 

Tomorrow is also the 14th.  The anniversary day of Ron's death.  It will be 8 months - not a particularly remarkable milestone but it still brings up so much hurt, pain and sadness.  It's been 8 months already!  I miss that man so much.  His silly antics, determined way he would go about a project, the way he scratched my back and helped me calm at night so I could sleep.  I miss his hugs - and we hugged a lot.   I miss the way he looked at our beautiful daughter with such overwhelming love.  He has missed so much as well.  Our life - the one we were supposed to live together until old and grey, he is missing.

Tomorrow, I will miss his secretive escape to the store to buy flowers for his girls and for me.  He always brought my older daughter a dozen roses - always.  When she was 9 yrs old when he bought her very own flower vase.  He handed the roses to her and said "I always want you to know how special you are and how you deserve to be treated by a man."  Her eyes would sparkle and her smile lit up the room.  She had never received flowers before for Valentine's Day.  Ron set the bar and he set it high.  When Alexandra was born, he started with a single rose in a bud vase and soon she had her very own flower vase too.  It became one of those expectations that still gave us all a spark of excitement. We knew we were getting flowers, but the color was a surprise.  After a few years, he created a rose color code.  Ron would say - "Mama gets red because she is the Goddess/Queen of the house.  Megan gets a darker pink because she is an older princess and Alexandra gest either white or light pink - for the little princess."  It was so special for all of us but Ron loved it most of all.  He, after all was the King of his home and he loved nothing more than to see us happy. I have debated whether or not I should continue his tradition or just leave it with his memory.  I almost can't bear to see Megan's face handing her a dozen roses knowing that it would be a reminder of the thorns and how delicate and painful such memories can be.

Tomorrow, I will do my best to smile and allow others their special day of love, but inside I will be mourning again the loss of love and innocence of the heart.

Cleansing Breaths

 

As a Registered Nurse who has helped hundreds, if not thousands of women through the labor & birthing process and taught hundreds of childbirth classes, I have touted the benefits of the cleansing breath many times over the past 20 years.  The transformation that takes place as you combine the act of drawing in clean, pure, white light air to fill your lungs along with imagery of how that air and light bring with it healing and the ability to grab hold of the dark, scary, toxic elements that reside in every cell.  Then, the exhale that takes with it the toxins and debris, ridding the body of negativity and darkness that pollutes ones intention and purpose.  I have preached the importance of that simple deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, knowing the next contraction could be strong enough to take the breath away.  The grief process, much like labor contractions, come in waves. That breath in between the surges can mean the difference between maintaining control and consciousness and completely losing yourself to the overwhelming pain of loss, diving into the darkened water-filled caverns of fear, anxiety and depression.

I wondered to myself in the days and weeks after Ron's death would this pain ever go away?  Would I ever again be able to think about tomorrow without my heartbeat increasing, jumping into my throat and sweat forming on my brow?  When might I finally be able to think and process like a normal person again?  When would I have the chance to put my head above the surface and take a breath?  It seemed like the storm surges were coming one after the other and I was slowly drowning, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss.  I am grateful for my ability to breathe through the pain of Ron's death as I can stand today saying, "I am not a victim of the deep, I am still walking in the sunlight, occasionally allowing a song to move my feet in dance."

These past two weeks, I have had to take numerous cleansing breaths to get past the waves of anxiety and anger that have come up while dealing with my older daughter and her struggle with heroin addiction and recovery and the realization that I am having to face this immeasurable fear alone. The fear of her choices and the potential deadly results should she take her sobriety and recovery lightly and relapse. I do not have my husband to lean on and I must seek my own inner strength to get through the moments and days ahead.  I fear this thing called addiction and what it can do to someone so seemingly normal and perfect - my child.  It provokes the most animal like behaviors of base survival and avoidance of society.  It turns the sweet into dangerous and sickly sour.  Her addiction bleeds into my life and those around her because we are all somewhat enmeshed in her choices and results.  We all want to see her happy and successful.   So, we wait for the other shoe to drop.  I wait, and wonder will she make it?  Will she live?  Will she CHOOSE to live? Again, I am ever grateful for the tools I have learned along the journey of being a Multi-Generational Mom.  I do not attach myself as much to my children's results, while I do have fear and anxiety,  I can separate myself from the choices knowing that I do not cause them and therefore I can not cure them.  I am an observer and spectator to her life.   I do not get to dictate or decide for her, I can't make her change.  The only person I can change is me.

As I am dealing with my daughter and her addiction/recovery, I am also dealing with my own "addiction" issue - sugar.  I have been eating clean going on 4 weeks now and I dealt with my own setback a couple days ago.  My younger daughter's school is doing a See's Candy Valentine's fundraiser and I thought it might be OK to have "just one" piece of chocolate.  What I learned is one is too many and a thousand isn't enough.  I had three pieces, felt like crap and threw the box away.  I have some information that I didn't have before - more definitive information - sugar is not my friend.

From this information, I am now having to dig a little deeper into some core issues and how sugar used to act like my friend and comfort me when life was not so sweet.  I used sugar to cover up the icky feelings of stress, anxiety, fear, disappointment and loss.  Even though I feel like some things in my life are not so "sweet", I know that I can no longer use sugar for medicine.  My new choice is to look again at breathing, paying attention to my body's clues and messages and taking care of me in a new and extraordinary way.  With my Radical Shifts Journey, I am now adding exercise!  Exercise will invoke the need to breathe - deep cleansing breaths to fill up the spaces and gaps left behind by the pain of Ron's sudden and unexpected death and the anxiety over my daughter's addiction.  Those two perfect storms crashing together that had the potential to take me to the depths of despair.  Exercise will generate the positive feedback and endorphins to lift me above and beyond the chaos and sadness.  It will help me on my journey to be healthier and fit.  I choose to live too.  Not just to live, but to LIVE HEALTHY.  I will not allow these storms get the best of me.

Of course, as storms usually do, the clouds have cleared somewhat and the surges settled.  I feel like the waves of grief and anxiety come less often these days and I am able to take those nice deep cleansing breaths, regenerating and rejuvenating my mind, body and soul. I will survive Ron's death and my daughter's addiction/recovery because I am a survivor.  I will survive because I choose to LIVE.

Namaste.

What Dreams May Come

                 

1/20/13

What Dreams May Come.  If you haven't seen the movie - you should.  This movie was one of our favorites as it was our story, our life, our journey as soulmates across thousands of years. If you have ever been in love or been lucky like me to find your soulmate, this movie is about you too.


I have had many people make comments to me that I am lucky to have found such a love and experienced the time I had with my soulmate - as if they themselves have not had the same opportunity.  I feel sad that so many people feel they are not with that one person the Universe, Cosmos or God intended for them.  This life is not a dress rehearsal and you don't get to go back and do it over.  Each day is a blessing and if you think the person you are with is not "the one true love" after all, then you have two choices.  1.  Get out of the relationship and move on.  2. Find your way back to the place of wondrous love and excitement and  joy you once knew with the person you are currently with.  Time has a way of softening or even dulling a relationship and making it seem unfulfilling and lackluster.  Looking out across the landscape of the world, so many others seem to be more exciting, sexy, fun, interesting -  you know, "The grass is greener" syndrome.  If you have been with one person for a long time, you have heard all the stories, know all the history and there isn't much left to discover. I get it, I felt that way sometimes with Ron and I would feel like AUGH! I'm bored!   I do not get to go back and fix those missed moments - and neither will you. Life and death go in one direction and there is no reverse.


I have spent the past 7 months in various stages of grief, often tears, despair and sadness prevailed. I also did a great job outrunning many of the feelings that came from losing someone I loved so deeply.  All the projects I started and chaos from the many disasters around the house were great distractions and kept me from doing my grief work.  Like a hamster on a running wheel, I had to fall off and get to a place of breakdown before I could experience the wonder of breakthrough.   Now, I find my days are less filled with the tears of sadness and more with the happy memories of our life together.  I speak about Ron and realize I almost speak as if he is in the other room, like he is still alive.  I feel like I can now speak of him and not always feel that desperate emptiness.  I wonder when I say things with a smile on my face or express my happiness that people must think "wow, she's over him".  Far from it - it's just that I don't want to live in sadness and I am purposing to be a happier person.  To be healthy, I need to live my life in the moment, live in today.  With that recognition of what I "need" to do, there is that part of me that still wants to search heaven and hell looking for Ron.  If you know the love for which I speak, you know you would do the same.  I feel him, know he is nearby reaching out for me and wrapping his arms around me like Patrick Swayze to Demi Moore in Ghost.  We had that kind of connection.

Thinking about dreams and dreamlike thoughts. The strangest experience happened the other day and it is still tipping me off balance.  I was looking at a few pictures of Ron and thinking about him when he was alive, how he felt, looked, how he smelled, tasted, moved, smiled and spoke.  I suddenly had a thought overtake me - it was that his being alive, being his wife and all that we had experienced together was the dream and these past 7 months of foggy dreamlike nightmare were really what I had lived all along.  It was a scary, unsettling feeling because it made me wonder if I was going to erase him from my memories like so many other dreams I have had in my lifetime.   What if my memories of Ron become so clouded and distant that I can't rekindle them again?  This thing called grief is such a fickle creature.  Dashing in and out of the shadows like Robin Hood, taking and giving as he sees fit then getting whacked on the back of the head with no warning at all, just when life feels at its most stable and secure.  It's a game of tag where nobody really wins, just a lot of yelling and running about until all the players are exhausted and collapse.  Grief likes to play games.

In the movie, the beautiful images of heaven were actually their dream home where the family is reunited once again after they have all transitioned from this earthly life.  They joyfully came together recognizing the love and devotion each shared for one another, celebrating being a family once again.   I see that possibility for Ron and I.  I imagine he is spending his time at the BBQ, fixing things and preparing our dream home, waiting for me to arrive.  Just as he did most days while he was alive, waiting at the front door, or on the front porch of our home with that big smile on his face.  Welcoming me home.

Until then, I will see you in my dreams my love!

Cleaning Up My Act

 

1/14/13

Today is 7 months since Ron died and I just got an email telling me that his memorial stone or grave marker is complete and has been placed.  It's now official, Ron is dead, buried and sealed into eternity with a bronze 16" X 24" slab reciting his vital information and the lasting words "A Man of Integrity Greatly Loved and Missed".  This is what he wanted on his gravestone - A MAN OF INTEGRITY.  He truly believed that was his greatest attribute.  Integrity is defined as "Doing the right thing, even when no one is looking".  That was Ron for sure with just about everything - but his health.

After Ron died, we had to clean out his car to get it ready to sell.  This was the task of his younger son, Steven.  I handed him a bag and he went off to do his deed.  Steven came back into the house saying "Are you ready to get pissed off??"  He had in his hands no less than 10 fast food bags and there were more in the car.  He had this look on his face like someone had slapped him.  It was difficult to watch as he tried to process what this meant.  Having the evidence that his father was still eating so much fast food and not attending to his dietary needs and restrictions was like being told his father committed suicide.  Now, nobody really thinks that by eating junk food they are going to drop dead one day, but for Ron along with major health problems and a family history that is exactly what happened.  It is not easy to look at the life of someone you love and see that they made so many poor choices, especially when so much of what Ron did was amazing, wonderful and giving.  He was what so many would call a happy, loving and generous man.  He made eveyone feel good around him and would laugh and joke and stump us with his library of facts and figures.  He was a wiz at math and could add a lengthy list of numbers in his head.  So many qualities that made him a man of great love and integrity, and now all that is lost forever.

I will visit my husband's grave and yell at him a bit (or a lot) and get really mad at him for making the choice to have a shorter life and be angry and stomp around a bit.  I will cry and scream for the loss of my love and partner.  I will caress his new grave marker and then I will pull myself together because I have work to do.  Today I begin the next phase of my Radical Shift and eliminate processed sugar, flour, gluten and dairy from my eating regimine.  I am cleaning up my act, my refrigerator and pantry.  Today starts a CLEAN FOOD ONLY regimine for me and my home.

For breakfast, I began with a clean shake of coconut water, almond milk, blueberries, raw cacao powder, 1/2 avocado, spinach/kale, a scoop of protein powder and a tsp of almond butter.  It was delicious and filling!  I am excited about this process of cleaning and cleansing my body.  I look forward to the benefits of not loading myself down with all the junk, wheat, sugar and other foods that do not provide me with energy and healthy satisfaction.

I am also working on shifting my 7 yr old daughter to a cleaner way of eating.  She LOVES her carbs!  Pasta, bread, ice cream, sweets oh my!  For lunch, I made her a clean sandwich of brown rice cake, almond butter a sprinkle of flax seeds and a little spread of almond/cacao butter.  She was THRILLED!  That along with her fat free yoghurt (She gets dairy as she is a child and not yet lactose intollerant), snow peas, hummus, berries, dried fruit, and her ice water.  To be honest, I usually pack her a healthy lunch, but now we are shifting to clean eating and trying to eliminate the wheat.

I am making a conscious choice to LIVE.  Not just live but live healthy.  I have a long ways to go but since I am declaring it here - I hope my new Village (that's YOU) will keep me accountable and keep me moving forward.  When I feel like sliding back to old ways, I will think to myself "How in the world am I going to explain THIS one on MOAMM?

I will close with my "I am " statement that I created years ago.  This is my power, my strength and my mantra.

I am a B-E-A UTIFUL, Strong, Intelligent, Courageous, Creative and Inspirational WOMAN!

Namaste

Tragedies and Triumphs

1/10/13

When I originally began this blog a couple years ago, it was meant to give me a place to speak about the contrasts in parenting a young child/toddler and teenage to adult children.  It is unique position to be in and yet one that is becoming increasingly common with blended families and new children being brought into those blended families.  I took down much of what I had written back then and when Ron died, I needed a place other than Facebook to pour out my thoughts, feelings and ramblings.  This blog remains a place to reflect on my unique parenting experience as I navigate the tragedies and triumphs that come my way.

Losing Ron was definitely a tragedy, no question.  It altered every plan and expectation I had for my life and my youngest daughter's life.  It created a ripple effect through the older 6 kids and they are still trying to figure out how to rationalize such a loss.  While Ron's death was somewhat expected as his health was always a topic of concern and conversation, it still shakes me to the core on a regular basis.  Despite all that has happened, I am in a relatively good place today, mainly because I am a strong women with the insane ability to tuck my tail between my legs, pull my coat a little tighter around my body and turn into the storm head first.  I just plow through and deal with all that comes my way.  I am discovering more of what has become my "new normal" and even coming up with plans for what might be next in my life.

Of course, just as I think I have things pulling together and in some semblance of order, once again my life is suddenly jolted off its foundation and I am forced to stop and acknowledge the icy winds, sleet, bolts of lightening and swirling storm that become a part of my world.

I don't want to get into the details of specifically who this is about, but let's just say that one of my 7 children is now dealing with a drug addiction issue and is in a court ordered 30 day inpatient rehab after an arrest.  I pray this was caught early and from the ashes of despair, the Phoenix will rise again in triumph.  This child has been down a darkening path for several years now and I knew I was going to receive one of two phone calls, either from the police or the morgue.  Thank goodness it was the police. 

I have been through this before, a child with addiction.  One of my older stepsons dealt with it as a teenager.  It was easy to deal with him because he was a minor.  We whisked him off lickety-split to a boarding school in Utah and 20 months later, he graduated the program and began his life of sobriety.  I am happy to say, 8 years later he is still clean and sober and a college graduate!  I know there can be happy endings and I will hope and expect for nothing less this time.  Thanks to the intense addict/enabler education our family received, I am equipped with a great toolbox of skills that will help me get through the next days, months and years.  I am not saying I have perfected the tools, just that I know I have them, how to use them and how to get to them when I need to. My challenge is to use those tools and not slip back into old ways.

There is a bit of a difference from when the older one presented with his drug addiction and this go round.  Not only is this child an adult, I am dealing with it alone and without my rock, Ron.  I must stay strong, not enable or rescue and keep my head clear and in my own "hoop" so I can be in support but not go down with her.  That's the thing about a kid who is drowning, it sounds simple and very appropriate to throw them a life preserver, but what if that isn't enough?  Do you jump in with them and try to pull them to shore or yell to them from the shore to "Tread water or DIE!!!"  You are not going to like the answer.

I can't and won't jump in to save her.  If I do, she will do everything she can to grab on to my life force and suck me dry until I sink to the bottom of the dark dark ocean.  I will love her, support her positive choices and hold her capable of handling her recovery on her own, or with the resources she will gain through the 12 Step NA program.  I can't do it for her.

I was lucky, I learned the skills of sitting back and being an observer of my children's choices and results early on.  I learned a very important word - "BUMMER" in response to their constant so-called emergencies.  When they would call from school in a panic "I forgot my homework at home can you bring it to me or I will fail!!!"  "Bummer".  "Mom!  Can you please drive me to school, I woke up late and now I'm going to be late and I will get detention again!"  "BUMMER - have a nice walk".  Natural consequences.  Better to learn that within the safety net living in a parent's home rather than out in the big bad world!  I once again find that I have a child who needs to re-learn these natural consequences and experience the "BUMMER" until she is ready to live her life on purpose.  I will sit on the sidelines as her biggest cheerleader, but if she trips and falls, I will not rush to her side to help her off the ground - I will be yelling "BUMMER!  Now get up, dust yourself off and let's GO!" She is strong.

Having a child arrested for drug possession and usage of drugs is definitely a tragedy and has the potential to destroy a family.  I am grateful our family meets such events with love, compassion and strong unwavering support.

I refuse to allow the tragedies in my life to define who I am and will turn these tragedies into my greatest triumphs.