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. 

One Foot in Front of the Other

One foot in front of the other.
A good mantra to get through each and every day
when your life's purpose has changed.

So many changes in my work place, and so many other changes at home now.  Last weekend, I rearranged the work bench in the garage.  I don't use the open end wrenches and other tools that my son used.  Now it's more basic:  hammer, saw, hacksaw, screwdriver are all in their places on the pegboard.  Gone are the bits and pieces of junk that accumulated over the years.  I know Brian knew what each one of those pieces were for, but I didn't.  He liked to listen to music when he was out there working, but the radio he used was gone, so today I took down the speakers.  I like music when I work, but I don't need it so loud! 

I struggle every day, though, to put one foot in front of the other.  When I'm at work, there are things that need to be done.  But when I'm all caught up, it's difficult to keep putting one foot out there.  When I'm at home?  Yikes, it's even harder.  I'm an early morning person, and got my walk done, my bed sheets washed and back on the bed, breakfast eaten, raked around the bushes out front, dug on my stump again (just a little every day until it's gone!)  and when I sat down, it was like 9:30am. 

*sigh*  then there's the rest of the day to contend with. 

I have projects.  This nice thing about projects is that they're something to keep you busy.  The bad part of projects that have a lot of components is that everything is sitting out and I feel guilty when I don't do a little bit each day. 


But some days, I just don't have it in me. 


I read, and have folks tell me, that this will pass eventually.
But it's so hard.
Today I sat down to have breakfast, and fell asleep.
I'm sure that is related to not sleeping well at night.

I dreamed that Brian was at a Walmart with me.  We were both stocking from a cart in the lunchmeat aisle.  He tried to see me and looked around one side of the cart and I tucked to look at him from the other side.  It felt like we just couldn't connect.  Maybe that's a part of it.  A little bit of him lets go every time something else comes up (like finding tidbits of junk in the garage).  As I prepared for his Celebration of Life ceremony, my biggest fear -- and still is -- is that he will be forgotten.  I keep mentioning this, it comes to mind often, and I just don't seem able to stop it.  Maybe that's my own brain telling me that I didn't write something, or share a photo, often enough and I need to do more.

For me, it's like this little blog.  I write because it's who I am.  Some day, maybe someone will know "the real me" because I don't hold much back.  And it's the same with writing down Brian's stories -- maybe someday someone will know him like I did. 

Nothing takes away the hurt,
but with each passing day,
it's just a little less.

No Decisions, For Now

With everything that has happened in the past couple of months, I keep having this feeling like I'm ... forgetting something.  Or that another shoe is going to drop?   Or maybe it's just the odd sensation of feeling as if I'm suspended between two worlds.  In one, I want to preserve all I have, all I can of my son.  In the opposite spectrum, I don't want my daughter to have to go through all of this so I feel like I should be heading toward minimalism, and getting rid of stuff. 

I've already done plenty of that, but I could do better. 
A little bit at a time, I suppose. 

This upcoming weekend, I will have both days off and I'm looking forward to it!

I also need to work on getting Sadie better at traveling in the car, so we can go places.

It's a weird little world I live in right now, and I'm trying to take it slow, but in many ways I'm becoming impatient.  I am pondering staying in my home vs moving closer to my daughter vs moving in with my mother. 

I go back and forth with each of them, for various reasons.  I would hate living back in Calif; I dislike the traffic and so many people.  Everywhere.  All the time.  But being there for Mom would be SO important.    I was never fond of Tucson as a town, and being closer would mean being involved in their lives - a good thing - until you toss my ex in the mix.  Sure, we can be civil, but I don't want to spend my social time with him.  Then there's staying in my home.  The one I bought on my own.  It's perfect in size, and the location is pretty good too.  But no family lives close. 



I bought the house with Brian in mind.  Because of his visual problems, he needed to be in a home that was close to some major bus lines.  And of course, he needed his own garage!  While the bedrooms are smallish, it's not a bad size.  And would have been perfect for him in the later years ......

But none of those plans worked out. 
For now, no decisions. 

Celebration of Life

Saturday was our Celebration of Life ceremony for Brian.  My own personal goal was to share moments of Brian's life so that everyone else would know the wonderful man I called my son.  Here are some excerpts:

We are gathered here today to remember the life of Brian, to celebrate what he meant to us all.  We come together in grief, acknowledging our human loss.  There will be disbelief and sadness in the hearts of many of us who are here.  Perhaps it is hard to admit, even to ourselves, how profoundly vulnerable death can made us feel.  Our celebration of our love for Brian cannot blunt these feelings.  It is not about feeling better, but about finding strength and support in the sharing of this love.  And in the depth of this grief is revealed a secret.  Life, experienced fully with all its joys and sorrows, then gives it's secret to itself.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8: "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:  a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance ... "

(I shared some stories that were read by my son-in-law, Alonzo, to be shared later)

None of us will ever know what was going through Brian's mind, or know what was so overwhelming to him that he couldn't stay just one more day. 

I know Brian would want each of you to live life fully,
to work hard,
and to be kind to others.

Brian, your humor, kindness and selflessness will continue to inspire us forever.

Everyone who sits in this room today is a gift to everyone else here.  When we are together, just our presence, even in silence, is a deep comfort.  To those who were very close to Brian, no one can predict what feelings and experiences will arise in the days, weeks, month and even years to come.  There may be waves of joy and sadness and tears.

Everyone who is here is proof that you do no have to ride these waves alone.  We know, too, that it is not only grief that we will feel.  There will be genuine smiles, and gratitude for the memories that Brian has given us that can never be taken away.  Be brave, but not too brave, when the sadness seems to overwhelm you.  And practice forgiveness.  Learn to forgive your own grief.  As the sadness subsides over the weeks and months ahead, remember the important lessons you have learned:  that time is precious and to cherish the time you have with family and friends, to have the courage to ask "How are you?"  and to stay and listen;  t
o show the love you have for the people in your life, and to say and show how much you love them.

God didn't promise days without pain,

laughter without sorrow

Nor sun without rain.

But he did promise 

Strength for the day

Comfort for the tears

And light for the way.

This moment matters

Brian was in my dream last night. 

I was sitting in the living room, the TV was on. 
I had just gotten up to refresh my drink when the  front door opened. 
There he stood, his left hand on the knob, a hat on his head, and sunglasses on. 
(just like so many other times when I've watched him come through that door)
There was very bright light behind him, all around him,
and he asked "Am I too late?"


What a joy it was to see him, but how it hurt to see him again, knowing he's no longer here.

The past 12 days have passed in a blur. 
I feel as if I'm sleepwalking through the days.
I walked into the garage to switch the laundry from washer to dryer, but saw a case of water sitting on top of the garbage can, so I grabbed that and put it away.  It was an hour or so later before I realized that I hadn't switched out the laundry yet. 

And none of it seems to matter.  The days, the activities are all done on automatic pilot. 
I know it gets better with time, but time is an ambiguous term.  It could mean minutes. Or days. Months, even years.   I try not to think of it in that way, just the now.

This moment matters.

So when I'm feeling the loss, when I'm tired or feel strung out, I take a minute to rest, recharge, regroup before I attempt to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Clues

Dear Brian:

It's been 24 hours without any non-family contact, and it's been quite the relief.

I didn't know your heartache when it came to your ex. (In my head, I call her TB, toxicbitch) ; I hoped you would open up after time, but it just never came to pass.  Now that I'm trying to piece things together, I'm finding the oddest assortment of "clues" :  old letters that seem to be concerning men from her past, and how she's avoiding them by changing bars, and how there's some drug and alcohol abuse going on.   Had you told me about any of this, I would have found a way to advise you; and if it was beyond my means, then finding help in some other way!!  How I wish ..... but I can't turn back the clock.   I always knew in my gut that you were in a toxic situation, an environment that went against your basic principles.  But you told me you loved her, and I hoped that things would be better.

I also found checks returned from your bank that couldn't be deposited.  They look suspicious to me, too, and I can understand why the bank flagged them.  Added to this, I found your trash for a box of magnetic check printing ink that was left the day she came to visit you.  You were in the garage, and here's where my mother's intuition kicks in.  She needed you to help her put this magnetic ink into her printer cartridge so she could print up more fake checks.  In hindsight, I wish I had confronted you straight up. 

I'm sitting here shaking my head.  She has sent me some texts, posted on our family page, and not once has she expressed sorrow for anyone's loss, but hers.  And frankly, what did she lose?  She let you go two months ago.  I'm sorry she feels some grief, but it's not on me to fix that for her. 

I think back, and the meals I fixed for the family, she never acknowledged.  Mike did, thanked me over and over, especially for the stew.  Because I knew that your money situation wasn't good, I tried to inject a little cheer and included the kids, along with her and Mike with some Christmas gifts -- again, never acknowledged by her.  At all. 

Now??  With HER grief, she expects me to speak to her?
To explain? 
To provide answers that I don't have?? 
Sorry. Nu uh.  Not gonna happen. 

A mother's love for her child is greater than any other force on the planet, in my opinion.  And when you told me you and she were broken up, that was the end of it for me, she wouldn't be a part of our lives any longer, or until you told me otherwise.  That means even now that you're gone.

I will be forever sad that we never got past all this, that we couldn't talk openly about what was going on.  It's my deepest regret that I didn't push harder; grown man or not, you will always be my little boy. And I love you more than words .....
Love,
Mom

Monkey in the Middle

When there is a sudden death in a family, the world seems to change.  It's no exception for me; looking answers that can never be found no matter how many scraps of paper you find to read.

But what's fun is finding things you didn't realize were there:  old reports from high school, or a paper that's "All About Me".  The only thing I haven't located that I thought I had was his first guitar lesson book; it was handwritten notations of the songs he was learning, either AC DC or Ozzy. hehehe

As for the rest of the people who's lives Brian touched, I'm sorry, but I have no answers for you.  And I don't care to the be "monkey in the middle" of whatever your relationship with him consisted of.  My son was a grown man, and made his own decisions.  If he had trouble with a decision, he knew he could always ask me anything.  He often chose not to. 

I had to finalize an invite for a "Celebration of Life" service and get a copy over to Home Depot.  While it was "work" and a job, he enjoyed working at HD; the store manager and associates have been very helpful and comforting. 

All the little details that need to be taken care of, and frankly, I'm finding that my brain is scattered in a thousand directions at a time, without focusing very well on any one thing.  Today was my first day off work, home alone.  I started laundry, then forgot about it.  I vacuumed one room, then abandoned it for something else.  I changed the sheets on the bed .... ok, I took the dirty sheets off the bed and all day my bed has been un-made.  I realize that I'm not functioning on all cylinders for now; being aware is helpful, I keep a notebook and pen with me at all times so I can write things down.

By 2pm, I realized I hadn't had any water yet, and had to sit down. 
That's pretty much how my day has gone.

At the last minute, UPS brought an envelope addressed to Brian, his final paycheck. 

Sometimes, I'm very grateful to have a job to go to, ordinary tasks that need to be done, that have nothing to do with my "home life". 

Conversations in My Head

Dear Brian:

I find myself awake in the wee hours of the morning, running through our last conversations.  And I keep wondering "If I had said *this* instead of *that* , would it have made a difference?"

We didn't talk about things that were happening or had happened right after you moved home.  Because I know you so well, I thought giving you time and space to get your thoughts gathered up was the right thing to do.  As I look back, was that the right thing?? 

It's always how it was in the past.   You'd have something on your mind and you'd walk into the room I was in and let out a sigh that seemed to come from deep within your chest.   You'd sigh again, and sometimes a third time.  I just waited until you had the courage to come out with it.   And maybe there was something in the past between us that made it so that you didn't feel you could just blurt out whatever you needed to say.   I realize that I can't change the past, or the dynamics of our relationship. 

The struggle was real;  whatever you were going through this last time, I'll admit, I don't understand.  And I am practical enough to know that I probably never will. 

If we had just one more conversation;
If I had insisted on getting away on a vacation;
If I .....

Those what if's will haunt me for a long time.

I love you son, from the day you were born, until the day I die.
See you in heaven some day!
Love, Mom

Dealing ... but just barely

Dealing with any kind of loss isn't easy.  Most of us have the ... thought in the back of our minds that our parents will die before us.  In nature's way, that seems to be the norm.  But dealing with the death of a child is harder than anything I've ever experienced.

I've always been a "strong" person - or that's what most people tell me.  I know that I'm not overly emotional when it comes to a crisis, and can usually see a light at the end of a tunnel in one direction or another.  Sometimes it's not easy to get over the obstacles and hurdles between you and that light, but it's there, and attainable.

But the one thing I attribute the strength I have is that I've always had to be strong for my son.  He had many hurdles and obstacles in his life.  He started life with a handicap, being visually impaired.  In order to see things important to him, he had to get up close.  With inanimate objects, it wasn't such a big deal; but dealing with classmates, it became an issue when he was young.  Schoolwork was difficult, because glasses didn't improve his sight enough to make it worthwhile to wear them. So people, as a rule, didn't even know he had trouble seeing.

I think the one thing he learned in life from me was if something needed to be done, you didn't wait for someone else to make it easy for you, you just adapted your own ways in order to work around the other people, and do it. 

He was a special person who never said NO to anything if you needed help.  He did, however, say NO if i asked him to go to the mall with me!!   "Too people-y" he'd tell me.  I agreed, but sometimes you just had to go to the mall!

As for getting through each day, it's one thing at a time.  Make a list of things that need to be done.  Each day, pick something on the list that you think you're able to accomplish.  For me, it was the simple act of washing and making up Brian's bed yesterday.  I couldn't do much else, but at least one thing was completed!  The rest of the evening after work was spent going through photos.  When making a slide show for his service .... jeez, I'm an amateur photographer, I have thousands of photos to go through!  Thank goodness the past 10+ years have been digital !!!

While I'm still going to blog -- it's my way of journaling -- we created a another website as a way for all of us to input photos and /or stories about Brian, the things we want to remember. 

www.forevermissed.com/brian.court is the website.   

We expect to be posting, but would love for you to add your own thoughts as well!!