Tag: griefsucks

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Triggers

I’m supposed to be sleeping. I’m supposed to be in a good place. I’m happy and I have an amazing husband. I also apparently have some unresolved grief.

On Sunday, when I saw the breaking news alert about Kobe Bryant, I immediately thought of my good friends Lisa Walthall and Diana Durham. They are both huge Lakers fans and they’ve each taken me to Lakers games. I imagined that it would hit them hard. I enjoy any professional sports but I don’t really follow them a lot. I ran downstairs to tell Bruce the news and then I sat down in front of the TV and obsessively watched the news for hours. And I got sadder and sadder. Sierra texted Camille and I to say “I love you”. I asked if they had heard the news and they had and Sierra said that’s why she had texted. We texted back and forth a bit about how awful it was and then I continued watching the news.

I tend to be a news junkie when something bad happens. I worried that Bruce would think I was obsessed but honestly I WAS obsessed! Who was in the helicopter with him? How many children did he have? Were they with him? at first the news said there were five people. This is going to sound terrible but at one point I thought he had 3 kids. So, if he happened to be the pilot of his helicopter, it was possible he was flying the whole family. So then I was agonizing over whether or not they would all be in there. As horrible as that would have been, it would have meant that no one was left behind. Then I found out he had 4 daughters and I felt sick at the thought that possibly one member of the family was left behind. What if it was a kid? How do you come back from that?

After several hours I started realizing that I had probably watched enough. I was going to turn off the tv but I watched a news conference first. And they said there were 9 people on the plane!!! Once again I obsessed over the possible scenarios, each worse than the others. Finally I turned off the tv, spent time with Bruce and tried to feel better. By then it was evening. I went to bed wondering why this was hitting me so hard.

Once in bed, I still couldn’t sleep. I thought about Nancy Saltzman, who loss her husband and two sons in a plane crash. I credit her book, Radical Survivor, for giving me hope in those early days. I was positive that if I had lost Patrick AND the girls, I would not have wanted to live without them. If Nancy could survive that, surely I could survive losing my husband and still having my daughters.

I checked Nancy’s Facebook page and she hadn’t posted anything but she had shared a post from Michelle Neff Hernandez, who I recognized as the founder of Soaring Spirits International, a support group for widows and widowers. I’m putting a link to the full message below but basically it talked about wondering how Vanessa Bryant was coping and recognizing that some of us have gone through similar losses.

Facebook Post

After reading that, everything fell into place. Even though this tragedy was not the exact circumstances, it was close enough to trigger painful memories. I also know I’m not alone, many of my fellow widows and others who have lost loved ones were also feeling incredibly sad.

I drove to work Monday wondering if I was fit to do counseling. I have an ethical duty to monitor my fitness to counsel. I felt ok but I also continued to monitor myself. At one point I talked to my coworker, Andrew, and shared what I was feeling. He validated my feelings and reassured me. That night I talked a bit more about what I had been feeling and Bruce thanked me for sharing and asked how he could help. Did I mention that he is wonderful?

As the week wore on I wasn’t really feeling any better. I talked about it during supervision at work and decided I should probably go back to counseling myself. I’m realizing that there are certain parts of this journey that I have not let myself feel. It’s easy to do. In fact, people told me I was doing it and I really didn’t believe them. Sometimes suppressing feelings is a survival mechanism and I did what I needed to do. But I pushed a lot deep inside me and now it needs to get out.

Last night I was at a low point and I cuddled up with Bruce and told him the story of that day. I thought I had already told him. I thought I talked about it all the time. But apparently I mainly share happy memories. I shared all of the really painful ones and had a good cry. It was a good start to a new journey I have to take. Since I’m a counselor now I’ve decided that this is a learning opportunity for me. I’m going to try a few different approaches and I’m going to try and write more, since that really helps me. As always, thank you to everyone for your support. ❤️❤️❤️

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Say their name

Yesterday I attended a memorial service for my cousin Kimberly Jordan’s step-son, Cody Jordan. He struggled with addiction and his life ended way too soon. I didn’t really know him that well but his death had a huge impact on a lot of people.

After losing Patrick I kind of feel like I’m supposed to be some sort of expert on grief. Especially now that I am doing my counseling internship. At funerals, I want to go up to people and say something comforting. The truth is, there’s really nothing anyone can say to take away the pain. I have learned a few things that help.

Say their name – I know I’ve said this before but it’s worth repeating. I can’t speak for everyone but most grieving people appreciate the acknowledgment that their person existed and is now gone. In fact, at first, it was very odd if I went somewhere and Patrick wasn’t mentioned. I mean, didn’t people realize that I thought about him all day long? Which brings me to the next point…

Bringing it up does NOT remind us that it happened – To me, it sounds crazy even writing that. I don’t think any of us consciously think that but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t guilty of the same thing. “I don’t want to bring up a bad memory”. Trust me, you never forget losing someone. Hearing their name is just acknowledgment that others felt their loss.

Listen – I am learning that allowing someone to talk about their trauma or loss is one of the most effective forms of healing. Death is still such a taboo subject in our society and I think that serves to make grief more isolating. At work and in my personal life, I encourage people to talk about their grief, it’s very healthy.

Keep reaching out but don’t smother – I appreciated people checking on me but also knowing when to give me space. There were many people that let me know they were there for me if needed but sometimes I needed time alone. Balance was good!

Offer or do, don’t ask – We are all guilty of this one… “Please let me know if there is anything I can do”. You will usually never get a response from this, even if there are things you can do, it’s still hard to ask. I really appreciated the people who were in the kitchen washing dishes, getting leaves out of the pool, taking the trash out… If you see something you can do, just do it.

My intent is not to criticize anyone who is guilty of breaking these rules. I’m guilty! But I like to think I do at least a little better now that I know. Hopefully this can be a guide for those who don’t know what to say or do.

The most important thing is, Say their name!

I’ve been impacted by a lot of untimely deaths and I know this is not an all-inclusive list but here are the names I need to say. Feel free to add your own in the comments.

Cody Jordan
Ron Stebles
Patrick teNyenhuis
Barbara Anderson
Tony Prandini
Terry Boyles
Dominic Zahlis
Ryan Brunetti
Leonard Myers
Danielle Prandini
Sue Prandini
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If I’m being honest…

Since Patrick died I have frequently been told how strong I am. I was always puzzled by this because I’ve never felt particularly strong. Recently I’ve been looking at it from a different angle and I think that I haven’t been completely honest.

I have always had a need for people around me to be happy and free from conflicts. Family tensions upset me so I’ve always been the peacemaker when needed. Grief is uncomfortable and awkward. I don’t like making people uncomfortable or sad. So I’ve probably suppressed some of my feelings. I’m not saying that I have all these feelings stuck inside, I do allow them to come out occasionally. But it is on my terms and usually when I’m alone.

I don’t know if the way I handle grief is good, bad, or normal. It’s just what I do and what has worked for me. Lately I’ve been trying to figure out why it works because there seem to be a lot of people who haven’t found a good way of dealing with their grief. I’m not saying that is bad. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. I just don’t like people to be sad and I always want to cheer them up.

This is particularly noticeable in a Facebook group I belong to. People are at all different stages of grief and sometimes they are very fragile. I kind of tend to visit the group, not so much for comfort, but to provide hope that it does get a little easier. There are other people who play this role too. We try to get people to focus on the little things that make them happy and encourage them to look for joy.

If you want to sit home and cry I can’t stop you and I won’t judge you. I’ve been there. If you feel grief or sadness begin to consume you, do something about it. Do something you enjoy. Go for a walk. Read a book. Call a friend. Do something for someone else. You are always going to miss your loved one. I like to think that they don’t want our lives to end with theirs. Try to find joy and happiness. If you always try, eventually it will just find you.

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Aftershock

Last night I was working on adding old blog entries and for some reason I didn’t finish the one I was working on, “Facade”, so I added it tonight. The next one is the post about the arrest and I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to move that one over. That part has been buried in my memory and I didn’t see any need to dredge it up. Camille got home last night and I was happy to have both my girls home.

Today we went to see the new Star Wars movie. On the way there I got a phone call from a number that I didn’t recognize but looked familiar. I answered and it was the Assistant DA who handled the case. He wanted to update me. Mr. Stubbs, the man who hit and killed Patrick, has been in a residential program. He has a hearing coming up. He has fully complied with the program and his drug tests have all been negative. More than likely he will be released next week and will be home to spend Christmas with his family.

As a future Licensed Professional Clinical Counselor I am hopeful that treatment works. As a human being I am happy that his children might see their father for Christmas. As a Mom…and a widow…. my heart breaks.

Here’s the thing, nothing is going to bring Patrick back. And I have said all along that the only amends Mr. Stubbs could make would be to be a better person. Locking him up would not have changed anything.

As my whole world has changed, and I have been continuing my education, I’m a different person. I believe there needs to be law and order in society. I believe that Mr. Stubbs made poor choices in his life that led to my husband’s death. But I don’t believe he is a murderer. And I do believe that our society has a serious problem with drug and alcohol addiction. And punishment does not cure addiction.

I have so many conflicting emotions right now. I would love more than anything to just wipe this whole part from my memory. My brother told me today that I was stronger than him and I’m not sure that is true. I just file away all those feelings that I don’t want to deal with. I function pretty well. And I am truly happy most of the time. But you can’t avoid the aftershocks.

I’m allowing myself a few tears tonight. I don’t think I will go to the hearing. My presence will not change anything. I’ve already said what I needed to say. I’m going to focus on my girls, Christmas, and moving forward with my life. I truly hope he has learned something from this and will dedicate his life to doing something positive. But I’m going to follow the advice my brother gave me today, “I wouldn’t give him any more free rent in your head. He’s either going to change or go to jail, we can’t choose.”

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Giving In

Every once in a while I give in and feel a little sorry for myself. I’m excited about retiring, going to school, and having many other positives in my life. But, I still want that other life back! It probably wasn’t as perfect as I make it out to be. I know I wasn’t blissfully happy every minute of every day, but I was comfortable, secure and loved. It’s hard stepping out of my comfort zone.

In my last post I mentioned my little recurring film clip. There are also places that trigger memories. There is a spot on Fowler, just South of Gettysburg, where Patrick’s bus broke down on the way home from the shop. The mechanic came and towed it back in. I picked Patrick up from that spot and every time I drive by I picture him standing there. I’ve picked him up by the side of the road many times over the years. I wasn’t sure why this one stood out and then I remembered that it happened on Monday and he died on Wednesday. So it’s one of my last memories. I’m sure he got in the car, leaned over to give me a kiss, and said, “Thanks Babe!” I actually gave him several rides that week and that was unusual so it’s a blessing that I had that extra time with him. I wish I could remember every bit of every conversation. I don’t think we talked about anything profound. That night we probably talked about the soccer awards dinner we were heading to. Sometimes it’s the little mundane things that I miss the most.

When I drive down Shaw, past Sunnyside, I imagine his bus parked in his usual spot at the old SJVR office next to BCs Pizza. How many times did I stop there on my way to work to drop off the phone he had forgotten at home? Sometimes I would stop there to pick him up on the way to a sporting event. It was always nicer to ride together.

His memory is everywhere but as time goes by I feel that I’ve lost some of my memories. He always had a better memory than I did and I think of questions I want to ask him every day. My current class is a little more scientific than the others and I would love it if I could ask him to explain some concepts to me. I’m not even sure if he ever studied neurotransmission but he could probably read a blurb in a textbook and make it easier for me to grasp.

When I have bad days or any kind of disappointment really, I always wish for that life. I’m not sure if it’s normal but anything negative in my life now turns into part of my grief. Something completely unrelated will happen and next thing I know, I’m at the cemetery, or driving down Shaw, to pass “the spot” and let out my pain.

My grief is probably more private now. I have to keep my shields up so I can function but I am also a little grateful when something upsets me because I know that I need that regular release that I get when I let go and feel.

I really don’t want to post this because it seems dark and sad and that is not how my life is. This is just part of the process. Letting the feelings out. Dealing with them. I really don’t think I will ever be 100% pain free again. I will always miss him. But, I will continue to embrace life and enjoy the years I have left! I know he would want me to.

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The Red Shirt

Have you ever watched a movie where someone has a kind of film loop running through their head? It’s a real thing. Mine is Patrick, riding his bike, with a long sleeve red shirt and the baggy bike shorts I bought him for Christmas (with hidden padding so no one thought he was too serious about riding). He has an intense look on his face because that’s how he was when he was out riding. He viewed fitness as an obligation and he usually looked serious when he was working out, I think he might have liked it a little but he probably would argue with that.

I guess you will probably think it’s sad that I have these images of how he would have looked right before it happened? And I guess maybe it IS a little sad but I’m so used to it now. And yes, sometimes I let the film go forward a little and imagine what happened. I try not to do that too much because it is harder but it’s odd how much little details matter.

The day after his funeral, Mom and Pop (his parents), picked us up to drive to Porterville for Zio Angelo’s funeral. I sat in the back with the girls on either side of me. We needed to go to be with everyone and I was actually relieved that we didn’t have to be the focus anymore. While we were driving, Mom gave me a card she had been carrying around for Patrick and I. He had recently helped them put in a new mailbox and I had done their taxes. The card was to thank us and it included a gift card for dinner. She had been carrying it around since before he died. I knew that she needed to give it to me but I think it was really hard for both of us. I choked up a little but vowed to keep it together for the girls.

Then my phone rang. It was the funeral home, calling to tell me they had a few personal effects, the clothing he was wearing that day. They thought I might want it thrown out. I had been trying to determine what he was wearing. I can’t tell you why this was important but it just was. I thought it was the red shirt with black on the sleeves but I just wasn’t sure. I tried to ask without anyone in the car realizing what I was asking. I’m not sure how I did it but they confirmed it was the shirt. I told them that someone would pick the items up. I got off the phone and struggled to hold it together. I spoke to a Patrick in my head and begged him to help me hold it together and I really think he did.

We got to the church and the rosary was first. This was good because I bowed my head as if praying and just sobbed. I think the girls were sitting by their cousins and I had the teNyenhuis sisters-in-love with me and they just surrounded me. After the rosary there was a brief viewing/visitation and during this time I moved and sat away from the girls. I knew their aunts would be with them and I just needed to be away, just for a bit. I sat with Elisa, Marissa and Livia (Prandini cousins) and I think I actually stopped crying but it was nice to feel like I didn’t have to hold it together.

That great big beautiful family got me through that day. I love them all so much!

My sister picked up the clothing and it is packed away somewhere. Probably it should have been thrown out but I just couldn’t do it yet.

So I still have that little video playing. I know there are treatments for PTSD type things but I don’t think I really need it for this. It’s not constant and it’s not horrific. It’s just him, riding. I still can’t believe this happened. Over time it has gotten easier. I don’t cry very much, but it is still shocking every time I am reminded that he is gone. And I still wonder about the little details. I can’t help it. I don’t need to know them but maybe if I did it would be different and I wouldn’t wonder so much? So hard to know. Sixteen months later and I promise it is easier and I am mostly happy. When I write down these painful memories I feel like I am releasing them a bit. Thank you for helping with that.

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I’m not really that strong

I guess it's painfully obvious that I am not always strong when I post at 4:00 AM. I've been due for a good cry for quite a while now. I've learned to stuff it in really well but eventually it will find it's way out.

The girls and I have had a wonderful summer and I knew I would feel a little empty when I came home from Hawaii. It's hard to be sad when you're in paradise, but I like living near my family so I knew I would have to go back home. To the life that I never asked for…

Don't get me wrong, I know that there are wonderful things about my life. I am surrounded by people who love me and I have awesome kids. But I don't have my soul mate. And I don't know if you ever get used to that.

I couldn't sleep tonight so I started watching Steam Donkey videos and that brought on the waterworks! It felt good to sob silently. Since Patrick died I've had more nights with a roommate than without. Sierra spent the first few weeks to a month with me and then Denise was with me off and on. Camille moved into my room in December while she was cleaning her room and that took eight months! They are all welcome any time but I think it is good to have some nights alone too. I need to allow myself to not be strong occasionally. I loved Patrick so much so I'm not sure why I think I could ever hold those feelings in.

I started with the Blackbird video because I will always think of that as a love letter from Patrick. There's a permanent link in my blog but here it is again. Blackbird

After a few individual videos I started watching videos of the band. I got to watch Patrick improve his banjo skills over 25 years. Admittedly I did not always enjoy listening! In fact I loved that our house had a sunroom with a door that could be closed to mute the sound but it still felt like he was close. Over the years his banjo playing got better and so did his voice. At the end I genuinely enjoyed watching him play. My second favorite video is a cover of Peace, Love and Understanding. I like this one because he talks at the beginning and he was a funny guy! But I also love the way he played it. For years he had one basic sound that seemed to work for most songs. But this song was different because he actually picked out the notes individually and I know it was hard for him to learn how to do this. I think meeting and playing with Abdul took him to this level and I will be forever grateful that he got to experience this! I know he had a blast being in the band and playing the banjo brought him great joy.

Peace, Love, and Understanding

The audio portion was used in the video at his memorial service and it was great. In fact the Blackbird video was in the video too. Memorial video

I share all of this because it helps me to get the feelings out. Losing him was hard but going forward without him is even harder. The only way I know how to do that is to just bury it all deep inside of me most of the time. I also realize that's not healthy so I do try to give myself a break once in a while and that's what tonight is. Maybe I will sleep now? Hopefully I will wake up refreshed and a little less sad. It has gotten easier with time. Please don't worry, I will get through this!

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Senseless – 11/21/16

Originally posted on 11/21/16. Reposting to observe the one year anniversary of Ron’s death.

Life is really unfair. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. These are really inadequate things to say when someone has died tragically. But most of us are at a loss for words when the unexplainable happens. Saturday night my best friend’s dad walked across the street to get the mail. On his way back across he was hit and killed. Why? Why? Why?

I met Cathy Stebles in fifth grade. Over the years I got to know her entire family. Her parents, Ron & Charlene, were like second parents to me. I spent a lot of time at their house on East Herndon. Ron was one of a kind. He had a really dry sense of humor and he always had us laughing. He had his own unique expressions. During high school he would ask us if we had “Met any lumps lately?” He was referring to hunks but of course he needed to make up his own word for it.

He raised his 3 daughters and 1 son to be independent. They learned to drive tractors before cars and had to be able to change the oil and tires on their cars if they expected to be allowed to drive. A lot of his little quirks were really smart. If he were driving us somewhere he would buckle his seat belt and say, “One”. Everyone knew this was their queue to count off as they buckled their seat belts. “Two, three, four” we all recited. This way he knew all the kids were in the car and safely buckled in. I felt like one of the kids and he and Charlene always referred to me as one of their other kids. Once we were adults I didn’t always see them a lot but when I did they were always very nice and made me feel part of their family.

Ron owned an auto shop called Speed Unlimited and he mostly worked on Volkswagen’s. When Patrick bought his VW bus he began taking it there when he needed work done. When you own a 1971 VW bus you get to know your mechanic really well! Patrick and Ron had a similar sense of humor and enjoyed their frequent brief visits. I also got to see Ron more often than I would have since I spent time transporting Patrick from the shop to work and back again. I am grateful that I had these extra opportunities over the years.

I don’t recall the exact dates that Ron retired and sold the shop but it was after we moved to Clovis. Ron introduced Patrick to Burnett’s and they worked on the bus for the rest of Patrick’s life. When Patrick died I was concerned about notifying them. The bus had been in the shop that same week and I wasn’t sure if they had seen news reports. Cathy talked to her dad and he agreed to stop by and notify them. Ron and Charlene attended Patrick’s funeral service. This was a little bit of a shock to me since I wasn’t aware of another time that Ron attended any kind of church service. I would describe Ron as a devout atheist. The fact that he sat through a Catholic funeral mass meant the world to me and made me realize how much he loved Patrick and I.

I saw Ron again at his grandson Matt’s graduation. Matt graduated with my nephew, Anthony. Cathy had an extra seat so I sat with the Stebles/Lamb family to free up a seat in the teNyenhuis section. The last time I saw him was at the Cougar Foundation BBQ in September. As always I received a big hug. He called me “Kiddo” and reminded me that I was always “one of the kids”. I’m grateful for these last few brief visits.

Ron’s sense of humor lives on in his grandsons. I have always been reminded of him when listening to Michael or Matt talk. I will chuckle and tell Cathy that they are definitely his grandsons.

And now my heart aches for Cathy, Charlene, Marilyn, Denise and Mike and all of the rest of the family, especially the grandkids. I know their pain only too well and it breaks my heart that they have to go through this. Ron lived a long, rich life. He was supposed to die, years from now, of old age. Some will say that at least he didn’t suffer. To me it is even more senseless that someone his age would die tragically. The fact that it was 1 day short of seven months after Patrick died is just crazy.

Cathy was my Rock when Patrick died. I can never repay the support she gave me. Now our roles are reversed but I am not happy that I am returning the favor. It’s not fair that she is going through this! I don’t understand, but I know that I don’t always get to know why things happen. I am hoping that Patrick was able to welcome Ron with open arms. I know that Ron would disagree and I really don’t want to disrespect him but I truly believe he is in heaven now. I just wish I could hear what he has to say about it! You know it would be good!

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Shaw Avenue 11/16/16

This was originally published on my Tumblr blog, which I’ve been slowly moving over. The picture was taken on 4/23/16 during a family walk to get us out of the house. My siblings and I are standing with our childhood home in the background. Denny, Dawan, Me, & Denise

The holidays are quickly approaching and I want to run in the other direction. Back to April. Back to last November. I am just so unprepared for holidays without him. At the same time I am really looking forward to January because that will mean the holidays are over.

I really don’t spend my days crying. I promise. And most of the time I am okay but it really doesn’t take much for the thoughts and pictures to start scrolling through my mind. If I go anywhere during the day I inevitably end up driving or crossing Shaw. I can’t really avoid it.

It’s crazy how much of our life is tied to Shaw. We both worked on Shaw. One of my elementary schools is on Shaw. We met a few blocks from Shaw. We opened our first checking account on Shaw. Fresno State is on Shaw. I spent four years of my childhood in the big house on the corner of Shaw and DeWolf. And he died on Shaw, a half mile away from that house. I have now driven down that section of Shaw 3 or 4 times. I only go there when I really need to let it all out and I don’t have to do that very often.

Ironically some of my best and a few of my worst childhood memories are from that house on Shaw. We moved from a tiny 3 bedroom house to that house and I think we all thought we were rich! A lot of the time we had our own bedrooms and somehow the 6 of us survived with 1 bathroom. I don’t even know how that was possible! We had all kinds of animals including a horse, a steer, goats, rabbits, ducks, geese, dogs, cats and pigs. There was always something to do. One time the pig had 13 piglets. They were cute when they were little. I remember one day I sat in the pasture and played with them. Later that day I was on the porch when they decided to go for a walk. Across Shaw. As I watched a car sped through their pack. All you could hear were squeals of pain. I ran in the house screaming. I was so upset I couldn’t really articulate what had happened and my parents thought one of the other kids had been hit. Miraculously only a few died. One had a broken leg but my mom had a splint put on it and it recovered just fine. We laugh at that story.

Another time I was getting home from school on the bus after track practice. There was an almond orchard surrounding two sides of our property. I saw Denise and Denny jogging along the orchard and, a little further, I saw that someone had left a few piles of clothes in the orchard. The bus stopped across the street from my house and the bus driver got out and let me cross the street. Suddenly, I saw a strange man with my brother and sister. He looked kind of crazy and seemed to have his arms on Denny. He asked me to get my parents and told me he had hit two men. We later found out that the tragedy began when a girl was driving by our house, pulling a horse trailer, and hit our Saint Bernard, Morley. Since she had the horse trailer she didn’t want to stop so she went home and told her dad and uncle. They lived less than a quarter mile away, on the opposite side of Shaw. Her dad and uncle drove over to tell us. For some reason they decided to park across Shaw instead of pulling into our driveway. I think the sun was low in the sky as they crossed. The driver never saw them. They were thrown into the orchard and killed instantly. I didn’t realize that I had seen them. Our dog was injured and my parents had him put down. What an awful day! This was forty years ago and I still remember almost everything about it.

How ironic that Patrick would ride past that house and a little way down the road his life would also end tragically. I didn’t really think about the fact that people lived near the accident site and would now be forever tied to this tragedy like I am to the one forty years earlier.

Today Camille went to Subs and Grubs for lunch. She used her phone to call in the order for herself and 3 others. As they went up to pay, the owner asked which one was Camille. She told her she recognized the name from caller ID. She pulled her aside and told her she lived out on Shaw and had been praying for my family. She didn’t charge Camille for her lunch. Such a small, crazy world! What a nice and unexpected gesture! I continue to feel the love that surrounds us, some of it from people we don’t even know. This is such a horrific experience but we are very blessed that so many people care about us and continue to do anything they can think of to help us. I know that I will survive the holidays. I will be surrounded by family and we will keep moving forward. There’s really no other way to go.

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Facade – 10/25/16

Originally posted on 10/25/16

Everyone always tells me how strong I am. How composed I am. Some days it is merely a façade. And facades aren’t intended to be permanent. Sometimes they fall apart.

I think I just went too long without crying. You try to hold it all in but trust me, eventually, it’s going to come out. Today it was the plants at the top of the stairs. I looked at them and pictured him watering them. He took care of the plants. I’ve kind of taken pride in keeping a bunch of plants including those alive since the funeral but let’s just say some of them are half alive. Kind of how I feel some days. I go through the motions, do the minimum. I know this isn’t fun to read but this is the reality. This is grief. And I promised to be honest about it.

I was chatting with another widow today. She lost her husband a few weeks after Patrick. His name was Pat. We are sisters now. She told me “I still can’t believe Pat is gone!” I said, “I know, I think that every day!” You’d think my brain would come up with something more original. I don’t know why it insists on reminding me. As if I didn’t know!

On days like this, I just can’t believe this is still so hard. Not that I ever thought it would be easy but I swear it’s harder now than it was the first month. At least I know that I will have good days and I do seem to have them more often.

Too much sadness! I will tell a story that I haven’t really put out there. Many of you have heard that Patrick ordered pipes for Denny and Phillip. They arrived here but never made it to them. My latest theory is that the boxes they were in were put into the recycling bin on the day of the accident. As things started unfolding I knew my house would be full of people so of course, all I could think about was how messy it was. The pipes could still turn up but I kind of think they would have by now. They were hilarious. Denny’s was a corn cob pipe and Phillip’s was some ridiculously long thing.

In the course of trying to verify that he did receive both pipes, I found a recent Amazon order that he had placed. The order was for a lighter that was shaped like a little man with a rather large body part that the flame shot out of. I realized that the lighter had not yet arrived so I told the girls we would be getting a package that would make us laugh. The package came on a Monday. I got the mail and left it on the table. We were leaving the house to go to the funeral home to see him for the first time so opening the mail was not a priority. That was a really, hard day for all of us. On the way home Denny was driving and I started talking about the package. I realized that somehow Denny had not heard me talking about it! So, I decided that he could open it. He opened it and there were not one but two lighters in the package!!! I’m not sure who they were intended for but we all got a really, good laugh out of them. They were on the mantle for a while, “saluting” his picture. I finally hid them after one too many kids noticed them (oops)! I didn’t put the picture in the original post but here it is! 

Later I decided that they would be a new family game. I gave one to Alyssa to hide in Denny’s house and one to Caitlin to hide in Gabe’s house. Gabe’s was apparently found quickly but Denny’s was in his 49er helmet and after several months we all but told him it was there and it was hilarious when he finally noticed it. Patrick’s humor lives on…. And now I can go to sleep with a smile on my face!