Grief's Route

It's been four years since I lost my son to suicide, and the hardest thing to come to terms with is how the grief process isn't a smooth road.  In fact, it's not only a rough road, it's full of twists and turns and backtracking at times.  That's probably the hardest part of grief.  One day, one moment, you think you're gotten past the hardest parts, and then Wham! you're right back in the center of it.

When I keep busy, I do ok.  But when it gets too busy, and stress builds, it all comes back in a flurry.  Sometimes I think of it as an Arizona dust storm (haboob, if you will).  It starts off slowly, and builds and builds, eventually the dusty winds roll over you, you're in the center, and sometimes you don't realize it until it's already pulled you in.  Waiting it out isn't pleasant but eventually you're out the other side.

Sometimes the unanswered questions get you down.  Sometimes it's wondering if you had said just one thing different, done one thing different, would it have changed things?  Eventually you learn to accept that you will never have answers to those things.  And you have to live with that knowledge. 

My son and I were close, we did many things together.  I'm lucky I have those memories.  But they don't always outweigh the heartache that comes with the loss.  

Four Years Ago

July 2 was the fourth anniversary since my son Brian died.  Time passes in a different dimension when your child dies.  The daily tasks that are somewhat mundane but necessary keep me moving in a semi forward direction.  But its not always forward.

There are days when the grief is still overwhelming, even after four years.  There are days when I feel alone, that no one even remembers him.  I know that death is an awkward subject for most people.  Suicide is even worse.  I also know that most people don't know what to say to those of us who have lost someone. 

But because he asked, I go on with my days, trying to be happy,  to find joy in the little things.  To honor him.  Because I love him.

Three. Long. Years.

 Dear Brian.

It's been three years today since you left my life, left this Earth.  Grief is something you never get over, it's just something you learn to live with.  Some days are better than others, but not a single day goes by that I don't think of you, to remember some adventure we had, the laughs we shared.  Sure, we had our tough times, but that happens between all parents and their kids. 

Every day can be a challenge for me.  Sure, I still do the "regular" stuff:  work, chores, errands.  But it's the other things that are harder for me now.  Doing things alone isn't as fun any more.  I miss having you along on my strange adventures and odd ideas.  I remember the many different times we hiked up on Superstition Mountain.  I remember the many times we drove to Cali to see the grandparents.  

Jake has finally decided to move to AZ and he bought a house in Chandler!  It'll be another 10 days before he can finally get into his house.  He's excited to get started on life here.  I hope he ends up liking it!   You know as well as I do that starting over somewhere isn't always the easiest thing, but he's much better at the people skills than you and I are.  

I've painted a few rocks in your memory, I still post photos and such on your memorial page and on your facebook page.  Whether one person or ten sees it, it doesn't matter to me.   Posting things is the way to help me remember you, to keep your memory alive.  

I love you, I miss you every day.  I can wish it over and over that things had been different, but that doesn't change any thing.  You'll never be forgotten.

Love,

Mom

Another Hard Day

Here it is, another difficult day.  One year ago today, my beautiful sister lost her three year long battle with pancreatic cancer.  She fought a really good fight with everything she had.  She smiled through all of the hard stuff, the chemo treatments, some cryo surgery.  She also knocked a few things off her bucket list - trips with friends to Ireland, to Paris, and some beach trips on the California coast.  We all miss her every day.

Losing a loved one is never easy.  I always considered myself lucky because I was nearly 60 years old before I started losing loved ones.  My maternal grandfather lived to be 104 and my paternal grandmother was 95.   So I found myself learning how to grieve at a late age.  

We hear talk about the circle of life. And I think I'm one of the odd ones who doesn't grieve the way most do.  There hasn't been a lot of wailing or heavy sobbing.  Sometimes the tears well up but the crying jags only last a few moments.  We all cope with it differently, but there's no doubt that we all feel the sadness that comes with loss.  And while we miss our loved ones, it should also serve as a reminder about how precious life is, and that we need to keep living in the moment, enjoying life every single day. 

Angelversary #2

Dear Brian,

It's been two years since you committed suicide.  I struggle with your choice, with whatever it was that decided your fate.  But the worst is the not knowing what I could have done, what I should have done, what I didn't see, what I didn't know.  

On today, the worst anniversary ever, I bounce back and forth between the horror of finding you and the joy of remembering you.  Your sense of humor, the little things you used to do, the way you put up with the crazy ideas I had off and on over the years.  I love to dig up old photos of you and remember the things we used to do, the places we've been.  Your tolerance for the weird things I envisioned in my head that you helped me to accomplish.  Like painting stripes on the concrete block fence in the back yard.  Or driving 3 hours to have a moonlight summer hike.  Or going off on a "treasure hunt" called Letter Boxing.  

And in spite of all the odd things, you were also always there when something needed to be done.  To finish the unfinished garage, to painting a room, to installing a new disposal or new faucets.  Digging up plants.  Planting new plants.  Installing a brick planter, or hauling all of the rock from the front yard to the back yard, one wheelbarrow at a time.   Or, going on an icy Sunday drive through Dayton after a crazy snowstorm, just so we can get photos.  lol   

I miss you.  Every single day.  There's nothing else left when you lose a child.  That's the hardest thing a parent does - mourn the loss of a child.  It's been a hard road.  I don't discuss this with very many people, and that's my decision.  It's not easy being a survivor of the loss of someone by suicide.  It's the unanswered questions, the lack of answers for people who are well meaning but tend to ask anyway.  

I know your last note to me wished me to be happy.  It's been difficult, but every day I try my best.

I love you.

Mom

PS:   It's Pizza and Pepsi for dinner!!  xoxoxo

Overwhelming At Times

 Sometimes I don't know what to do with it all. 

I heard that line on TV today and thought "that fits!"  Some days I don't know what to do with all the feelings, all the emotions that come swelling up inside when a memory of my son hits me in some way.  Like today.  There's a young kid at work who has hair just like my son's.  When I saw him today, I just wanted to reach out and smooth those hairs.  I know that wouldn't be right, but the feeling overwhelmed me.  

And that's the kind of stuff that fits:  I don't know what to do with it all. 

I muddle through as best I can, and keep moving through the day.  

Sometimes the tears well up, and sometimes I let them fall.   There is nothing that overwhelms as much as when your child dies.  I know that it's something that I"ll have to live with the rest of my days.  Sometimes I can't imagine what it took for him to do what he did.  And the cycle begins again, the grief builds, the tears come, and I'm sad all over again.  

One day.  Some day.  I'll stroll over heaven with him.  

The Price Of Love

"It is truly remarkable what people in deep turmoil will tell you if you truly listen to what they are saying.  More often than not, they will spill some of the pattern of repeated dark words, thoughts and fantasies that have been spiraling in their heads so relentlessly, so furiously, that they have entered a trance that has eliminated all other thoughts.  If the spiral continues without break, they will essentially talk themselves to the point where the pain of dying seems less than the pain of living.  That's how suicide works."

This is a quote from the book "Deadly Cross" by James Patterson.

And when I read these lines, it brought a touch of comfort regarding the loss of my son.  I know that my son was a lot like me, he lived a good part of his life in his head.  I'm not sure that makes sense to everyone but if you've ever overthought a situation, that's kind of how it is.  And I can see that if he got stuck on a certain thought, it spiraled 'round and 'round until it took over.  

It makes me sad to think that he couldn't reach out past the spiral and get some kind of help. It makes me sad to think that I didn't act on my hunch of loading him into the car and taking him to my mother's for a break from the routine of it all.  

I know that carrying this burden for the rest of my life will weigh me down.  And it's not easy to know that he carried his burdens until he couldn't carry them any longer.  Grief is never ending; and I know I've said it before:  there is nothing like losing a child.  My dad is gone, my sister is gone, even my favorite dog is gone, but I'm still the saddest over losing my son.  He was my reason for buying the small house, living near bus lines, getting it paid off so he'd have a place to grow old.  

Grief is like having a suitcase that you have to lug around everywhere with you:  it's always there, it adds a whole lot of weight to your travels.  And it's a process that never ends.   It's the price of love.

Grief Doesn't End

 Dear Brian:

It's been 21 months.  I know that I will never "get over" the grief, but I do my best to honor your wishes about being happy.  But sometimes there's a reminder and the grief overwhelms me like it was yesterday.

This time it was something so simple.  I bought a TV for the spare bedroom and on the way home all I could think was how much I missed being able to bring stuff home like this and you would get it all set up.  It was the same with anything else that came in a box as well -- chairs, tables, TV consoles -- and every time I bring a box home, I think of you and how you were always willing to be my Handyman! 

So I let myself have a good cry, letting myself miss you like I've done every day since.

There's no getting over grief.  It's just something you learn to ... endure.  An article in Psychology Today says "you cannot erase emotional memory.  Besides, its not about achieving closure.  Instead, you have to figure out what you are going to do when your emotional memories are later triggered."

What I've figured out is that when something triggers my own emotional memories, I just let the tears flow for a few moments and then get back to being in the present moment and being busy with whatever needs doing.  (That age-old advise that idle hands need to keep busy.)   It's usually what prompts me later to post something here, or on your FaceBook page.  

I miss you every day, in so many moments.  And even though I wish over and over again that I could go back and change things, one thing, anything, to events leading up .... I know that I can't.  And I keep going, and keep trying to be happy in the present moments, all while still remembering all the moments of your life. 

I love you.  Mom

Almost a New Year

 Dear Brian,

It's difficult to think that another round of holidays are upon us.  And to think that I'm going through it without you.  It hurts, but we keep moving forward as best we can.

Another surge of this COVID virus is making the rounds and they're advising that we don't get together with others from outside our own home to keep ourselves safe.  It's making things difficult for some.  I know Grandma misses being able to get together with friends and family, but she's very afraid of being exposed.  I spend about an hour a day on the phone with her, and end up doing a lot of reassuring.  She's surviving though!  

Jake and Haley had baby Josie Lee, and Anthony and Krissy are expecting in May - a girl named Aubree!  It's a growing family, and life moves on.

I painted my bedroom this year, two weeks ago, and happy I got it done early.  I caught a cold, and stayed home from work (SHOCK!!) but I was worried about COVID too. I sat on the couch bingeing on 7th Heaven and taking my temp every hour.  But it seems it's just a cold, and has already gotten better.  Thank goodness. 

I forced myself out to the park behind the library, got a few good shots, but I'm a little out of practice.  It hasn't been easy trying to be .... normal in an abnormal world.  But then, I'm not so normal even on a good day!  

It hasn't been easy going through these days without you.  If you were still here, I'd have no qualms about moving to Calif to take care of mom, and leaving you in the house.  But they were my long term plans, and that hasn't worked out.  I miss you every day, and think of you at least once every day.  When you were 16, you told me you'd live with me forever -- and we both laughed!  But now ... how I wish!  Things will never be the same, never feel normal for me.  I'm trying to follow your wishes and be happy, but it's hard to be happy when one loses a child.    I'll always love you

Missing you every day,

Love, Mom

Busy, but Still Sad

 Dear Brian,

It's October now, and we're rolling quickly into the holiday season.  There are so many things going on, and it's times like this when I wish time would slow down -- or have a day where it kinda stops! -- because I feel like there isn't time for me to sit and think.  About you.  About should haves and would haves.  And about what the next phase is going to be.  

Grandma is struggling more and more.  Technology is beyond her grasp at times and she worries when she can't get the info she needs.  And it's little things, like calling the bank.  Before COVID, you could just visit your branch and see a banker with your questions or issues.  Now, half the branches are closed, and you need an appointment to even get inside the bank.  Withdrawals are only done thru an ATM and she doesn't know how to use that, either.   I help as much as I can but it isn't easy long distance.

I need to somehow get a vacation to Cali in between all the work issues and doc visits that are scheduled.  Maybe the second week of Nov.   I just need to decide and go for it.  

I had to call Joe from across the street to help me with the new fridge.  I just couldn't figure out those weird little compression fittings.  I hate it that you're not here to help.  And I'm still sad over that.  It makes me wish over and over that I could have helped, or that I could have said something to make a difference ....  *sigh*

I loved you, will always love you.  And I miss you like craaaazy! 

Love, Mom

Too Much Going On

Dear Brian,

Life has been hectic lately, and with everything going on .... boy, I miss having you here! 

The fridge has been acting up, so I called in a Sears repairman.  The logic board went out on the freezer side, and the parts are no longer available.  So I had to dash around to Home Depot to see if I could find another one.  But all the side by sides are taller than will fit in the space.  Ugh  So I dashed over to Lowe's.  They had a Whirlpool that would fit but the ice machine was in the door and looked kinda jinky; next to it, a Frigidaire that's exactly like the one here.  AND it was on sale.  So I didn't waste any time and bought it.  It will be delivered Weds, and I'm wishing you were here all over again so that the ice maker line could be installed.  Here's another thing I gotta figure out how to do on my own.  

I was sewing more masks today, and my sewing machine seized up.  If you were here, I know you could figure out how to fix it.  And now I have to invest in a new machine, or have this one fixed.  Having this one fixed is better, because it's all metal and a real workhorse.  New ones are all plastic-y ... *sigh*  Another reason for wishing you were still here. 

I miss having convos with you, even though I have them every day in my mind.  I still tell you things and then wish you were here to help me with this thing or that chore.  Not a day goes by that something doesn't need doing, and I wish for your help. Or your company.  

I burst into tears yesterday and today, just from missing you.  I'll never truly get over not having you around.

Love you always, 

Mom

Crazy Daze

Dear Brian,

It seems like there's never enough time to sit and put my thoughts down here.  It doesn't mean I don't think of you, and frankly, while I tell people I talk to Sadie, most of what I "tell her" are things I'd be telling you.  So maybe you're listening every now and then so I don't have to write every detail out.

If you have been listening, you know that things are family crazy right now  Antie lost her fight with cancer and took her wings.  But in the meantime, I think it's making the family crazy.  I went off the deep end and got all over their cases because they all went off and "did their own thing", leaving Grandma home alone,  4 days after her own daughter had died.  After hearing her in tears on the phone, I was livid.  You know how I get when I'm like that.  hahaha

Arrangements have finally been made, and we're all trying to make things work from our end.  With any luck .... what with all the COVID its hard to know what's actually able to happen, California being on lockdown still.   I picked out a dress and I'm going to wear the necklace you gave me.  Whenever I wear it, I feel closer to you. :)

I miss you each and every day. 
And I wish you were here.

Looking Back One Year

Dear Brian,

What a rough weekend for me to get through.  It's been a year now, and I'm still as lost as I was a year ago.  And yet in some ways I've been able to get through it.  I know I move through my days doing the things that need doing, but there's not as much purpose any longer.  I can feel this happening, and yet seem unable to change any of it. 

With COVID, I'm not able to go places or do things, and I'm finding it quite a relief that I'm not being urged to be social in any way.  Which makes me chuckle.  I wear my mask all the time because it's the law, and I don't even have to smile at customers -- they have no idea what my mouth does behind my mask!  It's amusing to be able to move through my day without having to do the whole small talk and smile -- hard to do that when you're forced to stay six feet apart all the time.  hahah

I sat down and read your note today.  It hurt to see your handwriting.  I'm not sure if I was looking for comfort in your words -- I already knew I wouldn't find it.  I think I have that note memorized. It still didn't give me any answers.  I still have so many "what if" scenarios that I run through my head.  But I can't change what happened.  But I wish I could have.

Aunt Lori isn't doing well.  I don't know if she's at the "I give up" stage of fighting her cancer, but it seems like it might be. She's always been the one in control, and she's trying to do her medications by herself.  From what Grandma tells me, it sounds like she's over medicating; she sleeps through her days, and barely eats or drinks.  She's at Grandma's now.

I cleaned out a few of your things.  I put some of the hot wheels cars from your shelves into the carrying case.  I wonder if Zane would like to have them?  I didn't know what to do with all your wallets and pocket knives, some of the comic books and your drumsticks.  I have a couple thoughts, but since I wasn't certain, I'll just sleep on it for a while longer.

Writing to you here keeps your memory alive for me in a tangible way.  And I need the outlet.  So I'll just keep doing what I'm doing.

Love you and miss you every single day
Love,
mom

Happy Angelversary

Dear Brian,

It's been one year since the day that changed all the rest of my days. 

I live each day in a sort of suspended animation mode:  I go through the motions, but expect that at any moment you'll come through the door and surprise me.  In my mind, I know that's not possible, by my heart still believes. 

It's still "Brian's room, Brian's bathroom, Brian's garage" and I don't suppose that will ever change.  I'm sure that some people would say that I need to move on, change things up, or something like that.  But your guitars hang right there, your wallet and pocket knife are in the top drawer as if you're just gone on a trip.  There may come a day ... and maybe not, and Tanya will have to deal with whatever is still here. 

I've pondered over and over the why's and what if's.  I know I can't change it.  But it hurts like hell to think that I couldn't have done something differently, said something.  If only ....

I always thought that I was a strong person, always believed there was a "circle of life" and that everything dies at some point.  But to lose you, my son, has been the single hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.  What makes it seem worse is that it doesn't go away, and you don't just "get over it".  I carry this with me every single day.

I know that I'm just passing time now, going through the motions without the same purpose.  I always had the goal in mind of making sure that I get things set up in such a way that you'd be taken care of after I was gone.  Now it doesn't have the same meaning for me. 

Probably the hardest thing to bear in all of this is that I never get to talk about you with anyone else.  Grandma has her own challenges at the moment; T has her own life and is living it.  So that's why I have this blog -- a place to write to you, to let all the feelings come out when they need to, a place where I can say things that no one else wants to hear.  It's also why I created that memorial .... so that I could post every single photo I ever took of you, tell all your little stories.

Because your life mattered.
And you should NEVER be forgotten.

Happy Angelversary!

I love you. Always.
mom

Missing Our Chats

Dear Brian,

There's so much going on lately, and I haven't written in a while because rehashing all the stress just makes things that much harder.  I don't know what the world is coming to -- there are protests and riots, looting and shooting.  We're still in the midst of the pandemic, but they're starting to open things up slowly.   But even at that, things are at a new normal.

Every day at work, I'm wearing a mask, and sometimes gloves, to keep me, my co-workers and the customers safe from the coronavirus.  I'm required to answer health questions and have my temperature taken each morning at the start of every shift.  Retail stores are forced to limit the number of shoppers in a store.  In some places, folks have to wait in line to get inside and make their purchases.  

Supplies of everyday goods, such as toilet paper, paper towels, cleaning chemicals are all slowly rising back up.  Some days, you can get what you want, other days if you need something, you settle for a different brand of some things.  Food supplies are leveling out as well.  In April, our store shelves were completely wiped out of canned goods, most meats, fresh vegetables weren't available every single day.   There are still some days where you have to settle for something you might not have normally bought in the past. 

Grandma finally took herself out shopping for groceries after not leaving her house for three months! Incredible, and quite hard to believe.  In addition, she hasn't had any of the family "hanging out' at her house, so she's alone many days.  I worried about her getting depressed, so I made sure that I would read or listen to some kind of news to have things to discuss on the phone.  We've been chatting almost an hour every day now.  

Our first monsoon was before June 1, so about two weeks earlier than normal.  Our high temps - extreme heat over 110 degrees - was also about two weeks early.  I'm afraid this will be one of the hottest summers on record, or the wettest.  Or both.

I had a major breakdown on the first day of our heatwave.  I opened the back door, and a waft of that hot air hit me in the face, and I was right back to that awful day last summer.  I sat down and cried.

But what hurts the most is not having you here to share all this with.  We used to have good convos about life events, and the weather.  I miss your jokes about whatever topic was around.  I miss sharing our same likes when it comes to people, and customers.  

Let's face it. 
I just miss you.  

Very much.

Love, Mom

I cry

Dear Brian:

It's Friday, and I'm off work because I am covering the next 5 days for Reena, who is off on vacation.  Not that anything is a vacation these days, just time away from work, since we're all still stuck at home in so many cases.   This COVID thing is still making people a little bit crazy ... except for me.  Things for me seem very normal -- I go to work and then I'm a home-body and enjoy my solitude!

But it's been a rough week for me.  It feels as if every time I turn around, there's a reason to think about you and I get sad all over again, my heart breaks, I cry.  I can't believe you you chose your way out.  No matter how strong you think I am, it's not the same without you.  I was strong because I needed to be, for my kids.  Now there's not as much reason.  

But I keep going because that's what I do.

How I wish ....

How I wonder ....

But I will never know.

I love you

Mom

A Mother's Love

My first Mother's Day without my son.

I have never known a depth of pain 

this difficult,

So very hard.

At the same time,

May 10 is the day my stepson died

tragically taken from us all

2008

I know my boys

are together

jamming to some rock music,

the classic rock,

the good music.

Life brings us things beyond our control

and we are left to deal with it

learn from it

and hopefully grow, too.

I love you, 

both of you.

We all miss you very much

Love,

Mom

Heart Aches

Dear Brian,
There's no way to describe to another person how it feels when you lose someone you love.  It's never a fun feeling, and I've had my share of lost loves (ie husbands! lol) over the years.  But it's different when it's your child.  It's as if someone evil has reached into my chest and ripped out a piece of my heart.  Yes, it's actually a physical pain that I feel, especially when I am up in the wee hours of the night waiting for Sadie to do her business.  It's not really sadness or grief as we expect it to be, or have experienced in the past.  I can feel the piece of you that was within me is gone, and there's an empty place there, with raw edges and pain.

I've been moving on, however, as best I can.  I'm going through the scrapbooks and getting more photos of you scanned into the computer so they can be shared.  Or maybe it's so I can look at them whenever I want to.  I know they're in my memory, but seeing the photos brings back so many parts of you!  I didn't realize you had our family trait - the one where we stick the tip of our tongue out when we're concentrating real hard.  I laugh every time I see someone do it:  Grandma does it, I know I do it, Tanya does it, even you did it!

I stopped in at HD today - everyone was busy!  they're considered "essential workers" in this COVID-19 pandemic.  Bought some paint; when they put on a new roof, there was one place that needed some new plywood, so that needs painting dark brown.  Then I bought paint to start painting the back of the house and the trim, because it needs it again!  Of course I get two days off in a row, and the temps soar to over 100 before it's even May 1!   So early morning painting when it's cool out, and have to stretch it out over a few days off, but it will get done eventually!

I found a quote in the far reaches of my desk today:

     May the Sun bring you new energy by day.
     May the Moon softly restore you by night.
     May the Rain wash away your worries.
     May the Breeze blow new strength into your being.
     May you walk gently through the world
              and know it's beauty all the days of your life.
                          ----Apache Blessing

Wherever you are ....
I'll always love you
Mom

Heavenly Birthday

Dear Brian,

Here it is, your birthday .... Happy Birthday in heaven!

It's a sad day for me, and a rough one as well. 
I miss you.
Every day.

I know that feeling won't ever go away, it's just something I have to live with.

The AC guys are here installing the new unit. It took the crane guy exactly 12 minutes from drive up, removing the old unit and putting the new one on the roof.  He's got a pretty good gig ... no heavy lifting, just precise driving!   There are two installers, they are even installing new duct work and a programmable thermostat.  Yep, it was a pretty penny, but it's going to be worth it. 

As I sit here waiting for the guys to finish up, I can't help thinking about all the birthdays in the past.  You and I were never about doing things with people very often.  A fav dinner like steak and potatoes, with an ice cold beer was usually enough for us.  Or better yet, a pepperoni pizza and some Pepsi.

I'm moving on a little bit each day, but it's not always easy.
Things come up, things need doing, and my first thought is "call Brian". 
And then it hits me all over again.
And I miss you even more.

In my mind, I hug you every time the ache gets to be too strong

*happy birthday hugs*
Love,
mom

What a World!

Dear Brian,

Today, I scheduled to have a new AC unit put on the roof next week.  And I realized it will be on your birthday.  Another "first" without you.  And it hurts.

I've been following the "12 Weeks of Peace" program put out by NationalCremation.com.  It's been an awesome resource, but the final word on it all: 

• "This is the end of our journey (84 days), but it is not the end of yours. You will grieve, heal, mourn, cry, and recover over and over again for the rest of your life. We spoke earlier about saying goodbye to a loved one in the sense of accepting their death, but you will never say goodbye to them from your life."

I've learned that you will be in my heart forever, and no one can take that away from me.  I also feel it's my job to keep you remembered, by writing to you, about you, and posting on your FB page. 

But all that aside, you're missing a quite intensely scary world right now.  We're on curfews and are supposed to stay home to keep COVID-19 from spreading from person to person.  Businesses are shut down, anything deemed "non-essential" ... I wonder if it's lucky that I'm considered essential? ha!  Maybe more like sacrificial is the correct term?  (lol)  Poor Grandma is stuck home alone because her age makes her that much more vulnerable to the virus ... although all things considered, my own age puts me in that same category! Yikes!

I've been having to make and bring my own lunch to work; I eat at my desk to avoid people in the break room.  Management takes our temp before we start our shift to be certain we're not running a fever.  I also take my own temp at bedtime each night, just as a double check.  After work, I come home and go straight to the garage where I strip off my work clothes and shoes, then take my shower.   I have never lived through anything like this!

But even with all of this going on, you're still in my thoughts a hundred times a day.  Something funny will happen and my first thought is sharing it with you, just like always. 

You're always there with me in my heart,
and in spirit.
Love you always,
Mom