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I am thankful for all of you who have continued to check in
on and care for me and my children.

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Happy Thanksgiving

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Looking back

My parents slept on my living room floor on air mattress for months after the accident. They literally put their entire lives on hold, left their house and all of its projects, and centered their lives around me.

Those months are mostly a blur to me. I remember bits and pieces, but mostly when I think of the late Summer and Fall of 2007, it pretty much did not exist for me.

I do have some things that are solid in my mind though. I remember my parents and I sitting in my living room night after night after my kids went to bed. We all sat in the same spots and I would talk and they would listen. Or I would sit and they would sit and we would say nothing. Or I would cry and they would just let me cry. Sometimes they would cry. We would try to figure stuff out. We would revisit the same subjects again and again. We would talk about whatever was on my mind. They never seemed like they didn't want to hear what I had to say. They never held me accountable to what my position was the night before, and they saw my thoughts and feelings change from day to day and then back again. I know sometimes I would say things that just plain did not make sense. I was so completely lost and devastated and I didn't know what I was doing or thinking or saying. But they just listened and tried to follow. And they never judged me or stopped me from talking.

How did they know what to do?

Neither of them have ever been widows. None of their children had been through this before. How did they know what to do?

I still do not know the answer to that question. I am truly in awe looking back on what they did for me and how perfectly they handled the situation. I know that my parents got me through those first critical months. My mother read book after book on loss and becoming a widow. My father did project after project at my house to keep things going. And the three of us kept talking night after night. Not a lot was reconciled or figured out during those conversations, yet so much was accomplished. The framework was laid during that time period that gave me feet to stand on; that made me know through their actions that even when everything seemed to crumble into pieces, I had not lost everything. I was an adult, yet every bit their child.

In a book I am reading, I came across this quote speaking of the first month of being a widow:

"This period is the widow's time of greatest need, but, alas, the time when you are least able to use your support system. This is mourning at its worst. While each of us has to know it personally, this is the time when you need reassurance and the ubiquitous shoulder to lean on. This is the time for honest disclosure with family and friends who pay no mind to hateful thoughts and can listen to months of "I don't know," "if only," and "I can remember when" without a sign of boredom.

Somehow my parents knew what to do for me, and it is because of those early months that I have moments now that give me hope for my future. The moments are fleeting, but they keep me going.

When I got up this morning and walked down the stairs, Luke was sitting on the couch in the living room. I smiled at him and he said "You're the prettiest mom ever".

Luke learned that from his father.

Joe often said nice things to me in front of the kids and they heard what he said and saw how he treated me. It's a gift that lives on through his children.

This afternoon Luke came to me and said "you're the best mom in the world" (something my kids will say to me every now and then), but then he went on to say "I am lucky to have you".

Luke learned that from me.

We talk a lot about Joe and how it is an awful, terrible thing that happened to our family. But I always end the conversation by naming specific things and people that we are lucky to have in our lives, and there are a lot of them. I've been having these conversations with my kids for over a year, and at some level it is sinking in.

This song is like a work of art to me. I have listened to it probabaly 50 times in the past few weeks. There is a link to it at the bottom if you want to listen.
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~The Killers- Sweet Talk~
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Lift me up on my honor
Take me over this spell
Get this weight off my shoulders
I've carried it well
Lose these shackles of pressure
Shake me out of these chains
Lead me not to temptation
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Hold my hand harder
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Ease my mind

Roll down the smoke screen
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And open the sky
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Let me fly
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Man I need a release from this troublesome mind
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Fix my feet when they’re stumbling
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And well you know it hurts sometimes
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You know it's gonna bleed sometimes

Dig me out from this thorn tree
Help me bury my shame
Keep my eyes from the fire
They can’t handle the flame
Grace cut out from my brothers
When most of them fell
I carry it well

Let me fly
Man I need a release from this troublesome mind
Fix my feet when they’re stumbling
I guess you know it hurts sometimes
You know it's gonna bleed sometimes
Now hold on
I’m not looking for sweet talk
I’m looking for time
Top a tower and sleep walk
Brother, cause it hurts sometimes
You know it's gonna bleed sometimes
Hold on

You know its gonna hurt sometimes
When you call on me
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on

I’m gonna climb that symphony home and make it mine
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Let his resonance light my way
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See, all these pessimistic sufferers tend to drag me down
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So I could use it to shelter what good I’ve found
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ap016Ly149s

Once every summer on the way to camp I stop at the cemetery where all of my grandparents are buried. I used to go and really not know what to do while I was there. I would stand at each of the graves and think about them, but it felt weird....like I was missing something. I would always leave feeling kind of confused but glad that I went, and thankful that I knew each of them. A few years ago I decided I would paint some rocks and leave them there. I collected 4 rocks and they sat in my house for a long time. Those rocks ended up being painted for Joe on father's day.

I did not go to my grandparent's cemetery in 2007.

This year when I went it was a completely different experience for me. I was alone for one, no kids in the car. I stood at each grave and I cried (understatement), hard and for a long time. I was a complete mess. I had feelings of wanting to scream, to drop to the ground and ask WHY. WHY does it all end up like this? Why did it all end up like this? I felt a deep loss for each of my grandparents in a way I had not felt before. I felt sorrow in a different way. We know from the time we are young that people die when they get "old". My grandparents all lived long lives, and at the time I accepted that it was their time to die. I was sad and I miss them, but I think I was preoccupied with how my parents were feeling. I did not allow myself to feel the deep sorrow of loss for myself. In my grief group they said that a death will often bring up old unresolved issues from past losses that were not dealt with. I think that is what I was experiencing that day.

When I left the cemetery I was not confused or thinking I was thankful to have known my grandparents. I was angry that the world seems to be so hurtful, that we live and love and our bodies end up in the ground. It all seemed cruel.

When I was there I could not believe that my husband is with my grandparents. That he is also in a cemetery. He never got the chance to be old. It's all crazy to me.