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I have so much stuff floating around in my head that pertains to the topic of this blog. It's hard for me to get my act together and try to write about this stuff because most every post seems somewhat daunting to me.....writing the words, explaining myself, dealing with how it makes me feel (facing stuff that I'd rather forget about), etc.
I really want to get these things out of my head though. What this blog does for me is to put words to my thoughts and then allow me to let go to some extent of whatever topic I have written about. Sometimes I have to write about something several times, but writing does allow me in some respect to get a step closer to healing different topics that I need to work through.
I am going to challenge myself in the month of December to blog every day on LEFT. I am giving myself permission to let it be anything.....a full post, a single thought that ruled my head on whatever day, something floating in my head that I don't feel like going into detail to explain, a picture, etc...
We'll see how that goes.
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Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
I have written before about my difficulties in listening to some of Joe's favorite music, or music we enjoyed together for our entire relationship. Specifically it's been difficult with Pearl Jam and I have yet to conquer that hurdle- to be able to listen and enjoy it in my house as we used to do so often. You have to understand that separately he and I were huge Eddie Vedder fans before we ever met, and it is something that we truly enjoyed together during our marriage. One of the best memories we had together was awesome seats at a Pearl Jam concert that I paid way too much money for as a gift for him and, just to blow some extra cash, we rented a limo last minute (and top dollar) for transportation to and from the show. Truthfully, this was pre-kids and we were both making great money and it did not put us into any kind of financial hole, but the actual dollar amount caused us to talk about that night with huge smiles on our faces and say to each other "that was excessive", each knowing with pure certainty that it was worth every penny. That trip and memory has fueled a few of what I consider extravagant outings (maybe not to some, but to me) for me and my kids over the past few years, knowing all too intimately the truth in the phrase you only live once. (I think) I am a pretty frugal person by nature, and I would never put my family's financial well-being at risk, but I learned with Joe that I don't want to let money hold me back from doing things that can be remembered and treasured and talked about for years. That being said, I am grateful to have the opportunities that I do.
Back to the Pearl Jam concert for a minute. I just want to say this because it is totally corny and I laugh at myself to think of it, but it also displays how much I love the band. At that concert I had "a moment" like those crazy screaming Elvis girls in the 50's. I actually shed a tear when Eddie Vedder came on stage. Like, to see him and hear his live voice was over-the-top for me and I had to talk myself down a little to get control of myself. Later in the show I did get more overwhelmed when he sung "Given to Fly" (for those of you who know the song) because I always think of my friend Jennifer who died of cancer at age 26 when I hear that song. Ironically that song would later become pertinent to my own husband, who stood next to me holding my hand at this concert.
I could go into the meaning of Given to Fly for me but I will leave that out of this post. I know the intended meaning from the writer and I have always seen it in the light of death, losing a loved one. Afterall, it is what music means to us individually that is so moving.
"Fine!" the conversation in the checkout line went on in my head "I'll buy you." and I begrudgingly threw the cd on the counter with my other stuff, as if someone was making me do something I didn't want to do. "I don't actually have to listen to it if I don't want to" I thought, giving myself a way out.
Five minutes later I was ripping the plastic of the cd in my car. I popped it in and skipped ahead to Just Breath.
After one line of his voice and guitar, I sat somewhat stunned as a tear rolled down my cheek.
"Yes I understand that every life must end".....
Each line that came from his mouth made me cry more, until I was sobbing harder than I have in months. Obviously I was completely unsure of what this song would be like- fast, slow, hard, soft....and furthermore I had no idea that it would be about death, the exact subject that the title spoke volumes to me about. So to hear this beautiful, clear music dripping with words that were so meaninful to me felt overpowering. I imagined it was Joe's voice talking to me. Of course not all the words pertain to our situation. In the song, the person is still with the one he loves, and obviously I never had the luxury of having any last words with my husband. Still this song speaks to me down to the last line.
".............Meet you on the other side."
I have only listened to the song a handful of times and the cd has spent most of its time sitting on my desk. I remember the words though, and I've thought about them a million times. This song reminds me of how much Joe loved me (I have not forgotten how much I love him). And more importantly, for me, it reminds me that Joe was human.
Sometimes I get so pissed at him for things left unresolved. For things that I've found out or dealt with since his death that any normal, living couple would work out in the course of their marriage. And I get pissed that he is not here to be held accountable. For some reason people think that all forgiveness comes with death, but that is not true.....That somehow instantly every shortcoming is forgiven, and so now they can tell you anything that they couldn't tell you when he was alive. A widow knows different. A widow knows such confessions makes the pain worse, because now you have information that you would have taken up with him if he was alive; You still feel angry, yet you have nowhere to go with that anger. All of this is very unsettling.
I know my husband was a great man, a wonderful and loving husband and the kind of dad that any child would be lucky to have. I also know that he was not perfect and neither am I. Grief is a long, sometimes messy and ugly process. We have to grab pieces of help from wherever they come from, including songs that you thought you would never listen to.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eo-UKCxCglg
Back to the Pearl Jam concert for a minute. I just want to say this because it is totally corny and I laugh at myself to think of it, but it also displays how much I love the band. At that concert I had "a moment" like those crazy screaming Elvis girls in the 50's. I actually shed a tear when Eddie Vedder came on stage. Like, to see him and hear his live voice was over-the-top for me and I had to talk myself down a little to get control of myself. Later in the show I did get more overwhelmed when he sung "Given to Fly" (for those of you who know the song) because I always think of my friend Jennifer who died of cancer at age 26 when I hear that song. Ironically that song would later become pertinent to my own husband, who stood next to me holding my hand at this concert.
I could go into the meaning of Given to Fly for me but I will leave that out of this post. I know the intended meaning from the writer and I have always seen it in the light of death, losing a loved one. Afterall, it is what music means to us individually that is so moving.
I knew that Pearl Jam was releasing a new CD this fall, but honestly, I did not have any intentions of listening to it, much less buying it. I was in Target a couple of months ago when it first came out. I saw it displayed on my way in and just walked right past it. On my way out though, I was stuck staring at a huge display of new Pearl Jam cds as I waited in the checkout line. "Fine" I thought in my head, "I will look at you" and I picked up the case and turned it over. A few songs down in the song list on the back had a title that I could not take my eyes off.
"Just Breath"
After Joe died I had to remind myself constantly and purposefully to take breaths. Most people do not know what that is like, and my genuine prayer for them is that they never know. If you do know what I mean, you may have suffered an incredibly traumatic, sudden and tragic loss as I have. Suddenly each breath is deliberate and purposeful. A healthy human body is brought down to basic bodily functions to survive each minute. I remember holding my breath, not even realizing it, because the thoughts and pain in my head were spiraling out of control. I remember for months after he died, as I reminded myself to take a deep breath, I would unintentionally let out a loud and long sigh. To this day my son associates that noise with the loss of his father. If I sigh for any reason, Luke will ask me out of nowhere "Are you thinking about daddy?". Ugh, that hurts to write, there is still so much pain."Fine!" the conversation in the checkout line went on in my head "I'll buy you." and I begrudgingly threw the cd on the counter with my other stuff, as if someone was making me do something I didn't want to do. "I don't actually have to listen to it if I don't want to" I thought, giving myself a way out.
Five minutes later I was ripping the plastic of the cd in my car. I popped it in and skipped ahead to Just Breath.
After one line of his voice and guitar, I sat somewhat stunned as a tear rolled down my cheek.
"Yes I understand that every life must end".....
Each line that came from his mouth made me cry more, until I was sobbing harder than I have in months. Obviously I was completely unsure of what this song would be like- fast, slow, hard, soft....and furthermore I had no idea that it would be about death, the exact subject that the title spoke volumes to me about. So to hear this beautiful, clear music dripping with words that were so meaninful to me felt overpowering. I imagined it was Joe's voice talking to me. Of course not all the words pertain to our situation. In the song, the person is still with the one he loves, and obviously I never had the luxury of having any last words with my husband. Still this song speaks to me down to the last line.
".............Meet you on the other side."
I have only listened to the song a handful of times and the cd has spent most of its time sitting on my desk. I remember the words though, and I've thought about them a million times. This song reminds me of how much Joe loved me (I have not forgotten how much I love him). And more importantly, for me, it reminds me that Joe was human.
Sometimes I get so pissed at him for things left unresolved. For things that I've found out or dealt with since his death that any normal, living couple would work out in the course of their marriage. And I get pissed that he is not here to be held accountable. For some reason people think that all forgiveness comes with death, but that is not true.....That somehow instantly every shortcoming is forgiven, and so now they can tell you anything that they couldn't tell you when he was alive. A widow knows different. A widow knows such confessions makes the pain worse, because now you have information that you would have taken up with him if he was alive; You still feel angry, yet you have nowhere to go with that anger. All of this is very unsettling.
I know my husband was a great man, a wonderful and loving husband and the kind of dad that any child would be lucky to have. I also know that he was not perfect and neither am I. Grief is a long, sometimes messy and ugly process. We have to grab pieces of help from wherever they come from, including songs that you thought you would never listen to.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eo-UKCxCglg
Monday, November 9, 2009
We've had a very emotional week considering the news with my niece, Jordyn. I know there are some people who read this blog that don't know me "in real life" so the basics are that my 8-year-old niece has fought a hard battle with cancer and at this point the treatment that she was receiving is not working as well as the doctor's had hoped it would. They have let her go home and will continue chemotherapy there to keep the cancer at bay as long as possible. Of course everyone who knows her and her family is praying for miracle.
At some point I may post more in detail about what the situation with Jordyn means to me and Luke and Alyssa (I could write pages and pages already), but I honestly feel like doing that now is not respectful to the great pain and struggle that Jordyn and her parents and sister are going through. They are at the center of my thoughts constantly.
I have talked to Luke and Alyssa about what is happening and we continue to talk about it as often as they bring it up. They know that no matter what happens, the three of use will get through it together. They seem to be doing okay.
Last week I was very busy working to try to help to pull together a welcome home celebration for Jordyn. It was good for me in that it kept me busy and working on a project, so I didn't sit and dwell for long periods. On Saturday, when it was all done and the project was "complete", it was difficult for me. I don't know if I will ever get used to walking into an empty house with Luke and Alyssa and knowing that, we're all here, it's just the three of us now. Whenever I go to any sort of gathering/party/event, no matter what fun I have when I am there, it is always followed by that empty feeling of being alone when I go home. Obviously I am not physically alone, since my kids are with me, but trust me, it is a lonely feeling nonetheless. And that lonely feeling along with everything that is going on in my life right now basically sucks. I am very thankful for my family and friends and how much they love me and my kids. It's not the same though, as having a constant companion and love in my life.
No comfort, no soft place to fall.
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At some point I may post more in detail about what the situation with Jordyn means to me and Luke and Alyssa (I could write pages and pages already), but I honestly feel like doing that now is not respectful to the great pain and struggle that Jordyn and her parents and sister are going through. They are at the center of my thoughts constantly.
I have talked to Luke and Alyssa about what is happening and we continue to talk about it as often as they bring it up. They know that no matter what happens, the three of use will get through it together. They seem to be doing okay.
Last week I was very busy working to try to help to pull together a welcome home celebration for Jordyn. It was good for me in that it kept me busy and working on a project, so I didn't sit and dwell for long periods. On Saturday, when it was all done and the project was "complete", it was difficult for me. I don't know if I will ever get used to walking into an empty house with Luke and Alyssa and knowing that, we're all here, it's just the three of us now. Whenever I go to any sort of gathering/party/event, no matter what fun I have when I am there, it is always followed by that empty feeling of being alone when I go home. Obviously I am not physically alone, since my kids are with me, but trust me, it is a lonely feeling nonetheless. And that lonely feeling along with everything that is going on in my life right now basically sucks. I am very thankful for my family and friends and how much they love me and my kids. It's not the same though, as having a constant companion and love in my life.
No comfort, no soft place to fall.
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Friday, November 6, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Last week Luke and I had a long conversation (20 mins...that's a long time for a one-topic conversation with him that doesn't involve sports) about the day that Joe died. Thankfully this time it did not involve his insistence that it should have been me to go to the grocery store that night (therefore Joe would not have stopped there on the way home, therefore the accident would not have happened). This time he wanted specific information about where I was when I found out, where I was when it happened and what I did next. In short, he was asking for more details about what ensued for me after his daddy died.
This is a big step for Luke because from the very beginning, I know that on some level he has always been worried about me. Despite my assurance to him that I can take care of him and Alyssa and the house and our lives, without daddy here, I can tell he worries. I recently realized that all this time he wasn't worried about about those logistical items that I've worked so hard to prove myself capable of, he was worried about his mommy, her happiness and the fact that I lost my husband and what that means to me. Some may think that way of thinking is too advanced for such a little boy, but I know my son, and I have lived this tragedy day-in and day-out with my children over the past 2+ years, and I believe it to be the truth.
Luke was old enough (6 years and 6 days old) to have seen his mom and dad love each other every day. He remembers and is really the only witness on a daily basis to our marriage. Alyssa was so little when Joe died that she remembers bits and pieces and stories, not the day-to-day stuff.
I imagine it can be very difficult and maybe even scary for a little kid to see their parent cry. Luke has seen me cry on several occasions because I didn't want to completely shield him from the hurtful emotions that come with losing a loved one. I think that seeing his mother cry has been deeply upsetting to him but instead of showing it he pretended nothing bothered him. That could be one reason why he has never cried about losing his father, though honestly I cannot be sure. I'm still trying to figure that one out.
I also think that has contibuted to the long intervals between which he asks questions. I say "contributed to" because I think there are many other reasons why a child asks for bits and pieces at a time. One of those reasons is if you don't want to upset your mother, you don't ask questions that might make her cry.
So anyway, I explained to Luke more details of what happened that day. How I went to do an errand in Portsmouth; how daddy and I planned to meet back home at 6 and make dinner; how when I drove home I saw the accident. There he stopped me:
Luke: "What?! You saw the accident?!" (looking upset) "You never told me that!"
Me: "Well, I drove by there Luke, on my way home. And I saw a motorcycle on the ground, but daddy was not there. I didn't know for sure if it was his."
Luke: "What color was it?"
Me: "I wasn't sure at the time. It happened fast."
Luke: "Was it like, standing up?"
Me: "No it was laying on the ground."
Luke: "On the ground? Why?" (Luke has never-and most people have probably never-seen a motorcycle laying on the ground, they are always upright. Luke must have not ever pictured that the bike actually could have been doing anything other than standing up normally.)
Me: "Well, Luke, when he hit the truck-"
Luke (interrupting): "He hit the truck?! You mean daddy hit the truck? I thought the motorcycle hit the truck?"
Me: (slightly confused because I indeed did mean that the motorcycle hit the truck, but Joe also hit the truck so I was unsure what to say next.) "Daddy did hit the truck Luke because when the motorcycle hit it kind of threw him into the truck too".
Luke: (Silent, stressed look around his eyes but looking brave and determined to get his questions answered)
Me: (wondering if I am completely ruining this child by telling him this stuff)
Me: "It's hard to think about Luke, I hate thinking about that part. But one thing is that daddy died right away. Like, as soon as he hit he went unconscious. He didn't have any pain. Some people have a lot of pain when they die and daddy didn't have that."
Me: (Feeling completely unsure if any of that would make a difference to him, if he could even understand why not having pain would be a good thing considering that his father died. Just generally feeling very determined to answer him but not sure what I will say from one moment to the next because I have no idea what he will ask next.)
Luke: (insistently and in a problem-solving voice) "He should have stopped."
This is where I explained, as I have done many, many times, that you cannot stop instantly when in a car, bicycle, motorcycle, etc. He just doesn't seem to get it. I equate it to me telling my mother when I was very young and seatbelts weren't mandatory, that if I saw I was going to get into an accident I would put my seatbelt on really fast. As a kid it totally seems do-able. I understand what Luke is saying, but I have to keep hammering it home that what he's saying isn't possible. So I told him how as soon as daddy saw the truck pull in front of him he put on his brakes; how he tried really hard to stop before he got to the truck but he didn't have time; how daddy did everything right and everything he could to stop but it just wasn't possible.
Luke: "It's the truck's fault. He shouldn't have pulled in front of him."
Me: "Yes Luke, it's the truck's fault. Everyone agrees on that, that the truck should not have turned in front of daddy."
Luke: "What did you do after you drove by?"
Me: I drove home and I prayed the whole way home it was not daddy's bike that I saw".
Luke: (looking at me, waiting for more)
Me: "When I got home the garage door wasn't open and I had a bad feeling because usually daddy would have the door open when he got home. I came in the house and......(me mustering every bit of strength I have to give this information to my son with no tears in my eyes for fear of turning off his questions and having him stop talking)....he wasn't here. So I called Derek.
Luke: "Derek?"
Me: "Yeah, daddy had been at work so I wanted to know what time he left and knew Derek would know."
Luke: (Looking slightly confused because surprisingly he had forgotten that Derek and Daddy owned Boulder together. He asked a few questions about Boulder, asking who was still there, who was running it now and confirming that Derek owns Boulder alone now).
Me: "So I talked to Derek for a minute and then called Grammie. While I was on the phone the doctor called from the hospital and told me that daddy had been in a serious accident and he didn't know if he was going to make it."
Luke: "How did the doctor know?"
Me: "Because when there is an accident Luke, an ambulance goes to the accident and brings the people back to the hospital. The doctor was at the hospital when daddy was brought there but he had already died."
Luke: "So then what did you do?"
Me: "Derek came and picked me up and we drove to the hospital."
Luke: "Were you crying?"
Me: "Yes, I was crying"
Luke: "Like, how were you crying?" he displays various crying scenarios and asks me after each one, "like this?", none of it meant in a sarcastic or funny manner, but more that he really wanted to know how upset I was.
At this point he asked me more questions about that night, mostly centered around how I reacted to each thing. When he had enough of the conversation he ended by saying that he is going to get a motorcycle when he grows up.
I looked at him.
I had thought about this in the past.
I do not have anything against anyone riding motorcycles at all.
But......., my child?
Part of me wanted to tell him there would be no way on earth he would ever ride a motorcycle, to say something crazy, like, "Over my dead body" or "you would kill me if you did that" but I know that all of those comments are all about me and not about him. We sat and looked at each other for a few seconds.
"Well Luke, if you decide to ride a motorcycle when you get older your daddy would certainly understand why. Your daddy loved to ride his bike and it was one of his favorite things to do. So if you want to ride then that is your choice to make. It would be hard for mommy to see you on a bike but, that's your choice in your life".
I am not sure what the motorcycle comment was meant for, if he was testing me to see what I would say, or if he really thinks he might want to ride one for some reason that I completely cannot understand or relate to. However, I do know one thing for sure. Just as I would never do to his father, I would never in a million years tell him that he can not do something that he wants to do. People should be allowed to live life as they please and make their own choices. Although Joe knew that I pretty much hated his motorcycle and worried about him on it, I was not a wife that told her husband what he can and cannot do. Doing that would change who he was, and I loved Joe for who he was. A happy, confident, proud, fun-loving and live-life-to-the-fullest kind of guy.
I hope his son grows up to be the same way.
.
This is a big step for Luke because from the very beginning, I know that on some level he has always been worried about me. Despite my assurance to him that I can take care of him and Alyssa and the house and our lives, without daddy here, I can tell he worries. I recently realized that all this time he wasn't worried about about those logistical items that I've worked so hard to prove myself capable of, he was worried about his mommy, her happiness and the fact that I lost my husband and what that means to me. Some may think that way of thinking is too advanced for such a little boy, but I know my son, and I have lived this tragedy day-in and day-out with my children over the past 2+ years, and I believe it to be the truth.
Luke was old enough (6 years and 6 days old) to have seen his mom and dad love each other every day. He remembers and is really the only witness on a daily basis to our marriage. Alyssa was so little when Joe died that she remembers bits and pieces and stories, not the day-to-day stuff.
I imagine it can be very difficult and maybe even scary for a little kid to see their parent cry. Luke has seen me cry on several occasions because I didn't want to completely shield him from the hurtful emotions that come with losing a loved one. I think that seeing his mother cry has been deeply upsetting to him but instead of showing it he pretended nothing bothered him. That could be one reason why he has never cried about losing his father, though honestly I cannot be sure. I'm still trying to figure that one out.
I also think that has contibuted to the long intervals between which he asks questions. I say "contributed to" because I think there are many other reasons why a child asks for bits and pieces at a time. One of those reasons is if you don't want to upset your mother, you don't ask questions that might make her cry.
So anyway, I explained to Luke more details of what happened that day. How I went to do an errand in Portsmouth; how daddy and I planned to meet back home at 6 and make dinner; how when I drove home I saw the accident. There he stopped me:
Luke: "What?! You saw the accident?!" (looking upset) "You never told me that!"
Me: "Well, I drove by there Luke, on my way home. And I saw a motorcycle on the ground, but daddy was not there. I didn't know for sure if it was his."
Luke: "What color was it?"
Me: "I wasn't sure at the time. It happened fast."
Luke: "Was it like, standing up?"
Me: "No it was laying on the ground."
Luke: "On the ground? Why?" (Luke has never-and most people have probably never-seen a motorcycle laying on the ground, they are always upright. Luke must have not ever pictured that the bike actually could have been doing anything other than standing up normally.)
Me: "Well, Luke, when he hit the truck-"
Luke (interrupting): "He hit the truck?! You mean daddy hit the truck? I thought the motorcycle hit the truck?"
Me: (slightly confused because I indeed did mean that the motorcycle hit the truck, but Joe also hit the truck so I was unsure what to say next.) "Daddy did hit the truck Luke because when the motorcycle hit it kind of threw him into the truck too".
Luke: (Silent, stressed look around his eyes but looking brave and determined to get his questions answered)
Me: (wondering if I am completely ruining this child by telling him this stuff)
Me: "It's hard to think about Luke, I hate thinking about that part. But one thing is that daddy died right away. Like, as soon as he hit he went unconscious. He didn't have any pain. Some people have a lot of pain when they die and daddy didn't have that."
Me: (Feeling completely unsure if any of that would make a difference to him, if he could even understand why not having pain would be a good thing considering that his father died. Just generally feeling very determined to answer him but not sure what I will say from one moment to the next because I have no idea what he will ask next.)
Luke: (insistently and in a problem-solving voice) "He should have stopped."
This is where I explained, as I have done many, many times, that you cannot stop instantly when in a car, bicycle, motorcycle, etc. He just doesn't seem to get it. I equate it to me telling my mother when I was very young and seatbelts weren't mandatory, that if I saw I was going to get into an accident I would put my seatbelt on really fast. As a kid it totally seems do-able. I understand what Luke is saying, but I have to keep hammering it home that what he's saying isn't possible. So I told him how as soon as daddy saw the truck pull in front of him he put on his brakes; how he tried really hard to stop before he got to the truck but he didn't have time; how daddy did everything right and everything he could to stop but it just wasn't possible.
Luke: "It's the truck's fault. He shouldn't have pulled in front of him."
Me: "Yes Luke, it's the truck's fault. Everyone agrees on that, that the truck should not have turned in front of daddy."
Luke: "What did you do after you drove by?"
Me: I drove home and I prayed the whole way home it was not daddy's bike that I saw".
Luke: (looking at me, waiting for more)
Me: "When I got home the garage door wasn't open and I had a bad feeling because usually daddy would have the door open when he got home. I came in the house and......(me mustering every bit of strength I have to give this information to my son with no tears in my eyes for fear of turning off his questions and having him stop talking)....he wasn't here. So I called Derek.
Luke: "Derek?"
Me: "Yeah, daddy had been at work so I wanted to know what time he left and knew Derek would know."
Luke: (Looking slightly confused because surprisingly he had forgotten that Derek and Daddy owned Boulder together. He asked a few questions about Boulder, asking who was still there, who was running it now and confirming that Derek owns Boulder alone now).
Me: "So I talked to Derek for a minute and then called Grammie. While I was on the phone the doctor called from the hospital and told me that daddy had been in a serious accident and he didn't know if he was going to make it."
Luke: "How did the doctor know?"
Me: "Because when there is an accident Luke, an ambulance goes to the accident and brings the people back to the hospital. The doctor was at the hospital when daddy was brought there but he had already died."
Luke: "So then what did you do?"
Me: "Derek came and picked me up and we drove to the hospital."
Luke: "Were you crying?"
Me: "Yes, I was crying"
Luke: "Like, how were you crying?" he displays various crying scenarios and asks me after each one, "like this?", none of it meant in a sarcastic or funny manner, but more that he really wanted to know how upset I was.
At this point he asked me more questions about that night, mostly centered around how I reacted to each thing. When he had enough of the conversation he ended by saying that he is going to get a motorcycle when he grows up.
I looked at him.
I had thought about this in the past.
I do not have anything against anyone riding motorcycles at all.
But......., my child?
Part of me wanted to tell him there would be no way on earth he would ever ride a motorcycle, to say something crazy, like, "Over my dead body" or "you would kill me if you did that" but I know that all of those comments are all about me and not about him. We sat and looked at each other for a few seconds.
"Well Luke, if you decide to ride a motorcycle when you get older your daddy would certainly understand why. Your daddy loved to ride his bike and it was one of his favorite things to do. So if you want to ride then that is your choice to make. It would be hard for mommy to see you on a bike but, that's your choice in your life".
I am not sure what the motorcycle comment was meant for, if he was testing me to see what I would say, or if he really thinks he might want to ride one for some reason that I completely cannot understand or relate to. However, I do know one thing for sure. Just as I would never do to his father, I would never in a million years tell him that he can not do something that he wants to do. People should be allowed to live life as they please and make their own choices. Although Joe knew that I pretty much hated his motorcycle and worried about him on it, I was not a wife that told her husband what he can and cannot do. Doing that would change who he was, and I loved Joe for who he was. A happy, confident, proud, fun-loving and live-life-to-the-fullest kind of guy.
I hope his son grows up to be the same way.
.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
2 weekends ago, we were driving to the movie theater and Luke asked me a question that I was not ready for, but I thought might come at some point.
"Is daddy's body in the ground at the cemetery? Is he........like.......down there?"
We have never spoken about the specifics of Joe's actual body since he died. My children assumed that since daddy was in heaven, so was his body. I never told them otherwise. It is all very difficult and abstract for my young children. My general manner is to answer things as directly as possible but not offer additional information. They can't handle it. I can see by looking at their little faces that one question is enough for them, whatever question that might be. They take it in, and then they do something else, or change the subject completey. That is their way.
Luke usually typically asks me questions about Joe when he is on a high of some sort....when he's really happy and strong and feels like he can handle the answers. When I say "a high", I mean that he might be excited or hyper or really looking forward to something. This day his high was seeing Auntie Kim and Jesse and going to the movies.
When he asked me the question I said nothing. The first thing I thought of was Alyssa in the back seat with him. Though Luke may have learned or deduced what happens to a body when a person dies, Alyssa definitely had not. For the past two years I have talked to the kids, tried to explain to them about the difference between a body and soul, though never in terms of death and certainly never in terms of their father's death. This was all in preparation for when they would learn the truth about where their daddy's body is. But it's difficult for a child to understand, they are so literal, they want concrete proof of what a soul is. That's something I could not give them. It's hard to explain abstract ideas to a child, or at least it is for me.
We were driving and the music was on and it would have been easy for me to just not answer the question, and I definitely considered doing that. I felt like I didn't even know what to say, I felt completely stunned. Luke didn't ask again and I could tell his mind was just kind of racing from one thing to the next, he probably was already thinking of some other topic. I knew though, that I couldn't let this question slip by. I wanted to answer them truthfully so that they didn't make any of their own answers up in their little minds. After a few minutes I said, "What did you ask Luke?" and he repeated the question. "Yes", I said, "Daddy's body is in the ground at the cemetery".
"Can I talk to him?" Luke asked. "Hey, I can talk to him!"
I explained that yes, he could talk to him but he can also talk to him anywhere, anytime. I explained that daddy's body could not talk back, that the body in the ground is broken, and it does not work like the daddy that we knew.
"Can I go down there and see him?"
"No Luke, daddy's body is inside a box called a coffin. It's a beautiful wood box but you can't open it".
At that point I think the two of them pretended to talk to Joe for a little bit, being silly about what they would say to him. Alyssa pretty much took it all in stride. I think that at this point they might be able to actually understand that their daddy is in heaven AND in the ground. It's amazing really, it's a hurdle I have dreaded and never understood how I was going to explain to them without scaring them. And now the seed has at least been planted and there was no fear on their part and no additional difficult questions to confront at the time. They have not asked me about it since.
However, the bus passes by the cemetery where Joe is buried on their way home from school. Sometime recently Luke told me that he pointed to the cemetery on his ride home and told the kids that's where his daddy is. I cannot imagine what the kids thought about that information, but more than that, it rips my heart out that this is Luke's reality. It makes me intensely sad and angry that this is how things are. I have always felt angry in terms of myself visiting the cemetery. I get mad and resentful that I drop my kids off at school and go visit my husband at his grave. I often think how absurd it is, how if other parents knew what I did they probably wouldn't even know what to say about it. So it's like a secret, an angry, hateful, resentful, awful secret.
How did this happen?
After over two years I still ask myself how all of this could have transpired. My life, complete one moment, and completey upside down the next. A certain future one moment, a life full of promise and beautiful things. And in the next moment, a future of unknowns where nothing is certain. One moment I was married to a man that I was going to grow old with, we would take care of each other and watch our children grow. And in the next it was gone. Only me. Left.
.
"Is daddy's body in the ground at the cemetery? Is he........like.......down there?"
We have never spoken about the specifics of Joe's actual body since he died. My children assumed that since daddy was in heaven, so was his body. I never told them otherwise. It is all very difficult and abstract for my young children. My general manner is to answer things as directly as possible but not offer additional information. They can't handle it. I can see by looking at their little faces that one question is enough for them, whatever question that might be. They take it in, and then they do something else, or change the subject completey. That is their way.
Luke usually typically asks me questions about Joe when he is on a high of some sort....when he's really happy and strong and feels like he can handle the answers. When I say "a high", I mean that he might be excited or hyper or really looking forward to something. This day his high was seeing Auntie Kim and Jesse and going to the movies.
When he asked me the question I said nothing. The first thing I thought of was Alyssa in the back seat with him. Though Luke may have learned or deduced what happens to a body when a person dies, Alyssa definitely had not. For the past two years I have talked to the kids, tried to explain to them about the difference between a body and soul, though never in terms of death and certainly never in terms of their father's death. This was all in preparation for when they would learn the truth about where their daddy's body is. But it's difficult for a child to understand, they are so literal, they want concrete proof of what a soul is. That's something I could not give them. It's hard to explain abstract ideas to a child, or at least it is for me.
We were driving and the music was on and it would have been easy for me to just not answer the question, and I definitely considered doing that. I felt like I didn't even know what to say, I felt completely stunned. Luke didn't ask again and I could tell his mind was just kind of racing from one thing to the next, he probably was already thinking of some other topic. I knew though, that I couldn't let this question slip by. I wanted to answer them truthfully so that they didn't make any of their own answers up in their little minds. After a few minutes I said, "What did you ask Luke?" and he repeated the question. "Yes", I said, "Daddy's body is in the ground at the cemetery".
"Can I talk to him?" Luke asked. "Hey, I can talk to him!"
I explained that yes, he could talk to him but he can also talk to him anywhere, anytime. I explained that daddy's body could not talk back, that the body in the ground is broken, and it does not work like the daddy that we knew.
"Can I go down there and see him?"
"No Luke, daddy's body is inside a box called a coffin. It's a beautiful wood box but you can't open it".
At that point I think the two of them pretended to talk to Joe for a little bit, being silly about what they would say to him. Alyssa pretty much took it all in stride. I think that at this point they might be able to actually understand that their daddy is in heaven AND in the ground. It's amazing really, it's a hurdle I have dreaded and never understood how I was going to explain to them without scaring them. And now the seed has at least been planted and there was no fear on their part and no additional difficult questions to confront at the time. They have not asked me about it since.
However, the bus passes by the cemetery where Joe is buried on their way home from school. Sometime recently Luke told me that he pointed to the cemetery on his ride home and told the kids that's where his daddy is. I cannot imagine what the kids thought about that information, but more than that, it rips my heart out that this is Luke's reality. It makes me intensely sad and angry that this is how things are. I have always felt angry in terms of myself visiting the cemetery. I get mad and resentful that I drop my kids off at school and go visit my husband at his grave. I often think how absurd it is, how if other parents knew what I did they probably wouldn't even know what to say about it. So it's like a secret, an angry, hateful, resentful, awful secret.
How did this happen?
After over two years I still ask myself how all of this could have transpired. My life, complete one moment, and completey upside down the next. A certain future one moment, a life full of promise and beautiful things. And in the next moment, a future of unknowns where nothing is certain. One moment I was married to a man that I was going to grow old with, we would take care of each other and watch our children grow. And in the next it was gone. Only me. Left.
.
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