In the ring...

Imagine you are in a boxing ring.  A professional boxer looks at you straight in the face, winds up and you see the glove coming straight for the middle of your face.  You think to yourself...no way I can dodge this...its going to happen. BOOM! You take a blow. But it doesn’t knock you out...it just takes your breath away for a second and you are back ready for more.

That is a glimpse to the life of someone who has lost a spouse or a parent.

You can feel you are in the ring at any point in time, any place, in any circumstance.  And this boxer can creep in to give you a punch when you least expect it and for sure during the best moments in your life.  It is inevitable.  

Today I ate dinner with the boxer right behind my chair.  It was not only a blow straight in the face, but left and right at my sides too.  And it attacks the best of my teammates - my daughters.  

The boxer struck me the first time when a friendly couple sitting next to us (that turned out to be parents of a student in Anna’s class) asked where Isabella got her blue eyes.  People see her eyes and we here a reminder of Papa and how he is not with us.  My sweet Bella will have to deal with that her whole life (just like I had to deal with “you must look like your dad”).  So I told them what happened because I could tell they saw a potential “couple friends” - and well, I am no longer a couple (blow #2). 

Then we kept on eating dinner the 3 of us, and the waiter came and spoke with us a little and in a very nice but prying way asked why he didn’t see The Mr. with us when we went to the club to eat. Blow #3. So I told him what happened and within 30 minutes I got two of the same reaction...a look of pity, shock awkwardness and sadness.

All meanwhile enjoying a salad and burgers and making sure that Isabella didn’t ruin her pretty dress with ketchup and Anna didn’t fall out of the chair.

Of course, Isabella said in a loud voice...”I miss Papa” and Anna agreed.  And I agreed.

Then, the father of the little girl in Anna’s class took her outside to play because she wanted “daddy time” and the girls heard.  Of course they wanted to join.  Since I had just shared what happened with the mother she stood up and said “Oh I will take them!”

It was nice because she could see what was happening.  But I just felt like the girls were entering their own ring and with out me know.  Something I have to get used too.  They went outside for a little while while I wrapped up dinner and then I met them outside.  They were running and playing. I felt relieved. Like a break in the match and I was getting vaseline (or whatever they put on their face to heal the open gashes) on my face and water.  I knew what would come next...I noticed when I met the couple that they are good parents.  And that the father is a father of 3 little girls and he is in love with them- he is a good dad.  So in the next 15 minutes we were there, I faced Mike Tyson with my arms tied and a smile on my face to let the girls know this is all ok and we are ok. 

The father danced with one of his girls, then carried his 3 month old and sang an entire song to her while holding her tight, and then spoke of teaching the other one golf this summer.  

They looked at him like the most priceless gift ever...and untouchable for them at this point.  I could see Isabella remembered Mark and I could see Anna seeing what a father  is like and wanting one.

Then he said as he grabbed all of them, it was time to go home because his famous NFL draft was tonight...that almost knocked me out.

That used to be our life.  Now 2 years later...here we are with so many blessings around us and making a life of our own. He is what is missing.  We can not escape the pain and it will be with us forever because no matter what you can not replace a human being and the love you have for a spouse or father/mother.

We pray that God hears our prayers for a wonderful man to enter into our family - as Isabella says - a daddy here on earth to love and play with.  I know God has His plan and every time I feel the punch, it somehow fills me with more Faith.  I get beat up in the best of times that I have, but I will not get knocked down.  

Imagine what Jesus felt like during The Passion...

Please read this article so you can be aware of how you can help someone in our situation and when you find out about a loss.  Yes, it is shocking to hear, but try to get over the shock and remember this article.  Please pass it on it can be applied to any age.  Thank you!

www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/ct-talk-schoenberg-column-0424-20120424,0,2535133.story

chicagotribune.com

Don't be shocked when you meet a grieving child

Awkward silence needn't occur upon learning of death of a parent

Nara Schoenberg

April 24, 2012

There I'd be, a teenager more or less minding her own business at a school event or a social gathering, when a well-meaning adult would start quizzing me about where I was born, how many brothers and sisters I had, and what my father did.
"My dad was a doctor," I'd say. "He died."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. That's horrible," the adult would say, and then proceed to stare at me as the conversation ground to a halt.
I'd be thinking: "I'm 15. You're the adult here, you brought this up, and now I'm supposed to say something to make you feel better?"
The answer, of course, was yes, and I got pretty good at it, but I never stopped hating the way that conversation made me feel. When I finally found a close friend who had been through the same thing, we bonded instantly over the weirdness of an adult being shocked, just shocked, that some people actually die before old age. (It's awful, yes, but it happens quite a bit, and making bereaved kids feel like freaks of nature doesn't do anyone a whole lot of good.)
My friend and I joked that we should just burst into tears the next time someone pulled the awkward silence stunt. Or maybe we could circulate together at a social event. When someone was beating themselves up for reminding one of us that he or she had lost a parent, the other one could pipe up with, "My father's dead too!" (Cue the uncontrollable sobs, in stereo.)
OK, we were 19 and stupid, but our basic logic, I think, was sound. "You want awkward? We'll give you awkward!"
A lot has changed for the better since the 1970s and '80s, when I was dealing with these issues, including the rise of bereavement centers and age-appropriate support groups, a great step forward for grieving kids. But a new New York Life Foundation/National Alliance for Grieving Children survey of kids at bereavement programs across the U.S., billed as the first study of its kind, suggests that young people are still struggling with less-than-helpful reactions.
Among the study's findings: While kids identified strongly with key statements such as "The death of my loved one is the worst thing that ever happened to me" and "You never stop missing your loved one," when they were asked to choose just one statement that applied to them the most, the largest group of kids (32 percent), chose "People don't have to give me special treatment; I just want to be treated like everyone else."
That's the way I felt, and while the survey doesn't address the awkward silence issue directly, experts say it persists.
"I think it's the norm," said Joe Primo, associate executive director of Good Grief, a children's bereavement center in Morristown, N.J.
"As a society, we really struggle with talking about death. For most Americans, it's hard enough to have that conversation with an adult, and all of a sudden, you throw a kid into the mix, and I don't think adults have a clue where to begin."
Jill Hamilton, 49, of Palm Springs, Calif., noticed the awkward silence problem after her husband, Kelly, died last year. She's raising their children, Lauren, 11, and Brad, 14.
"It would be nice for the person to say, 'What kind of person was he?' or ask something about him, not just (lapse into) dead silence," Jill Hamilton says.
"Awkward silence!" Lauren interjects.
Experts have plenty of advice for what friends and family can do to help a bereaved child (listen, ask what he or she needs, don't tell the child to stop crying), but when it comes to the specific question of the awkward silence, they say there are no easy answers.
Each grieving person is different, says Andy McNiel, executive director of the National Alliance for Grieving Children, and some people complain about silences while others complain about intrusive questions.
"It's almost damned if you do, damned if you don't," McNiel says. "What do you say? I've been working with families for 20 years now and I still will go to funerals and sound like a bumbling idiot. The truth is, there's not always a really good thing to say."
Still, I do think it would help if people educated themselves a little about the topic, starting with the basics: You have every right to be unnerved when you learn a child has lost a parent, but you don't have the right to be shocked. According to a 2009 survey by New York Life with Comfort Zone Camp, 1 in 9 Americans have lost a parent before age 20; 1 in 7 have lost a parent or sibling.
If you can simply go into an introductory conversation with a child knowing that the death of a parent is a real possibility, you can probably spare yourself and others significant discomfort. You can avoid the question of parental occupation entirely, or if you choose to broach it and find out the parent in question is deceased, try a suggestion from Lauren's mother, Jill: Ask a question along the lines of, "What was (the deceased parent) like?"
"As a kid, you're proud of your parent and you love your parent and that gives you a way to talk about them that isn't tied to their death," Jill Hamilton says.
Lauren brightens immediately when she's asked what her dad was like: "He was a jolly man, like Santa Claus. He had a big tummy and a big beard, and he looked like Santa Claus." He even dressed up as Santa Claus one year, she says, and gave out presents to the kids at their church.
I was a cynical teen when I was mourning my dad, and Lauren is a gung-ho fifth-grader. But listening to her, I'm reminded that I, too, could prattle on merrily about my father at times, even with an adult I didn't know well.
I didn't have much to say about death or loss or a specific illness, and awkward silences were pretty much guaranteed when strangers veered off in that direction. But my dad? My funny, thoughtful, crazy-smart dad was my hero, and I could have talked about him all day long.

8.28

On August 28th, 2010, Keith left his earthly body and began life anew.  August 28th landed on a Sunday this year and I found myself sitting next to my mom at church.  When the pastor began speaking I simply looked at my mom and said, "Are you freaking kidding me?"   It was fantastic.

I want to share this sermon with you in case you're missing Keith or someone else equally as special to you.  It really is good.  CLICK HERE.

questions...

An old friend of mine recently experienced a loss at the high school where he coaches.  A student in the senior class was in a condition similar to Keith's and ended up passing away after a couple of months in that condition.  He emailed me wanting to know certain things and after responding I wondered if other people might benefit from me sharing our conversations.  I copied and pasted the communication then realized it was super lame and decided against sharing it.  When I told him I changed my mind about sharing it he told me that I should because it really might be helpful.  I was very frank in my responses and was going to tone them down for this so I don't end up sounding like a total a-hole, but figured if I was sharing my honest thoughts to him then I should share my honest answers on here.  He told me that the bluntness is what makes the answers effective and that the truth is our friend and should be embraced.  This is just my take on my situation and I know that everyone views and appreciates things differently.  How I thought and what annoyed me might have been what got someone else through a similar situation so please know that nothing is meant to offend.  Anyway, this is it and please remember that the responses were to someone I am very comfortable with.  If I was responding to someone different I would've been much more polite.  Feel free to read it if you so desire:

Okay - I'll do my best to answer these. Although very similar, my situation was also very different based on the amount of time that passed. If Keith would've passed away just after two months I don't really know how I would feel. Actually, he was dying (one of the seven times) close to that timeframe. In July he suffered massive heart failure and I was told he wouldn't make it through the night. He also had the same blood infection that Luke had except he acquired it in May as I was giving birth to Brooks. I was told I couldn't even see him even though I was just three floors up because the infection was so severe. I digress...


What did you want to hear? Was it simply people's presence or words?


I didn't really want to hear anything. People are stupid and they don't know what to say so they end up rambling and making no sense. To me, the only people that get it are those who have been through something similar and they are the ones who speak the least.  Just knowing people were there if I needed them was enough.


What encouraged you? What gave you hope?


See, this is going to be TOTALLY different for them. I was encouraged that I could regain my life and move forward. I believe that I will have a second shot at a happy home because I'm still relatively young and Brooks is awesome. I had and still have hope that the Lord has someone else out there for me. However, that family will probably not ever have another son. It's probably like the Beasleys. Keith is gone and that's all they have. In all honesty, it would be extremely difficult in that situation. I mean, what do you hope for? That they come back? That you don't forget the memories because that's all you have? I don't know. I guess you fall back on the fact that as Christians you will see them again so you know it's only a matter of time before that happens.


Was there a sense of relief, closure, bitterness (the range)?


MAJOR relief. Major. It was time and I believe we both knew that. I think that somewhere deep within Keith knew Brooks and I would be okay if he left us and deep within I knew Keith needed to be made whole. My biggest fear was that Keith would remain in that condition forever - or at least until we were grandparents or something. If that was the case, I knew what my future held for me and it wasn't exactly encouraging. I couldn't make plans, I couldn't go out of town, I couldn't do anything because I never knew when Keith would have a downturn and end up back in the ER, then ICU, then who knows where. When I drive by places where Keith was admitted - Baylor Hospital, the nursing home, Select Specialty Hospital - I still blow kisses towards the building, think of him and say, "I miss you, Babe," but I am SO GRATEFUL that I can keep on driving to wherever it is that I'm headed.


Our school is devastated and we even had counselors in to tell the faculty what to say, what not to say, how to respond to the questions.


I would LOVE to know what the counselors told you guys to say and not say. Please indulge...


He was admired by all and folks are just stunned. I don't know if the time itself helped (not losing him right away)? However, maybe you can answer that for me as well. The loss sucks, but I wonder if the time in the coma helped others reconcile - being able to still talk, caress, pray with and for, read to and stuff like that.


Yes, the time helped FOR SURE. Because it was so sudden, the time allowed me to wrap my brain around what was happening and let me get used to being on my own. I still had Keith there so I could go and talk to him, cuddle with him, and try to hash out our situation even though he couldn't respond. The more I did that the more I realized that I COULD do it without him. I wouldn't trade those 18 months for anything. However, I wouldn't wish them upon anyone either. My situation worked for me and it was what I needed to be able to deal with everything. I can't help but believe that your friends had the length of time specific to their needs as well. At least that's what I hope. I hope this is what you were looking for and that it helps in some way. If my answers produced more questions then send 'em over. :)

I think the Srs to whom Luke was close go day to day and are now struggling with the guilt of enjoying themselves, having fun, etc. It was tough because he was such a dynamic young man, ton of integrity. He just drew people to him. He was a starter in baseball, football, basketball and in fine arts as well. Stud. The next big Sr markers: graduation, Sr trip, those might be tough.


If it comes up, tell them there should be NO guilt. Luke would want them to have fun and do things the same as if he was there doing it with them. Of that I am sure. Oh, ha, that reminds me of another thing that people did that was SO ANNOYING. They would send me forwards of stuff that was really lame. The one that comes to mind based on what you said about him is a poem about how God only takes the best. That's how he chooses who to call Home - only the best. It said how Heaven needed that person more than the people left on Earth. This type of stuff drove me crazy because 1) it's lame and 2) it's foundationally wrong.


You had a great trip to *Eden* I see! How are you these days?

The Virgin Islands were SO MUCH FUN. Jessica and I had a blast. It was tough, though, because that was one of the last trips I took with Keith. Jessica and I stayed at the same house and ended up doing a lot of the same stuff (restaurants, beaches, etc) from when I was there before so it's like I saw Keith everywhere. However, by doing that I think I am crossing bridges that will ultimately take me to where I want to be.

I think what was most striking/cringe-worthy was the 'prophecies' the family received and probably you, too.  "Your son will wake up on the 40th day!"  Uh, no, he didn't and he died on the 72nd day.  I know folks meant well, but that stuff in the midst of our prayers may have been a buoy to them for a moment.

The prophecies and visions made it much more difficult. I've wondered about it because on one hand it gave me hope, but on the other hand the people were wrong. Hope is good, but it made it that much harder once Keith was gone. Of course the people meant well, but it was still a pretty crappy deal.



We got the news on the way home from a baseball game and I had one of his best friends in the car with me. I told him and he just sobbed all the way home. You know, Luke was essentially ‘gone’ but the finality of that moment really struck me. For you, what was that moment like when it was ‘final’?


The final moment...ahhhhhhh...it was one that I dreaded. I didn't want to be there. Of course I was each time they said it was happening, but I never wanted to actually see it. I would go to be there for Keith, but deep down I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to see him take his last breath and realize he would never take another. It's not how I wanted to remember him. Consequently, the day it happened I wasn't there. His mom was at the nursing home and the nurses asked her to step out while they bathed him. He passed away during the bath. When she came back in she said that he looked different, something was different. She called me immediately and said, "Judy, honey, you need to get up here now." I could tell by her voice that something was different. I knew what was going down and I took my time getting ready. I didn't just change clothes real fast, I decided what I wanted to wear. It was really strange because I thought: what am I going to wear the last time I see Keith? I did this before at the hospital when I stopped his medicine and blood pressure medication. His family flew in and I remember wearing my shirt that appropriately says: Save Me. Anyway, the phone rang a minute or two later - not more than five - and I was simply told, "He's gone." My shoulders relaxed and I let out a deep breath. My mom gave a loud wail and we hugged while she said, "He's at peace. He's whole. He's with the Lord." Then I dried my hair and went up to see his body. It's a very strange and surreal situation. It's so crazy to me that I even have that story to tell.

So, is it cathartic to go through the details of the 'day' or does it just suck the life out of you?  Yeah, when do you start to process "I'm available"?

Nope, not cathartic.  At least not yet.  It just pretty much blows - for lack of a better term.  I found out the other day that he's still frozen.  That sucked too.  It's exhausting.  Takes a bunch out of me.  I actually blogged about it earlier since my wheels were turning after emailing you. 

Thanks again for taking the time to respond. Cory and I pray for you often and my prayer specifically for you is for Brooks to have a father that loves God so much that all he can do is have that love pour out to you and Brooks…and that he has lots of money!



Hahahaha - keep that prayer going...I like it. You hit the nail on the head!  :)

my grandma...

My grandma is going to die today.  I got a call from my mom yesterday as I was driving home from the gym.  She told me to hurry home because my grandma had a massive stroke and they were careflighting her to the hospital.  After I got home we learned that they were actually careflighting her to a stroke recovery hospital in Dallas which meant my family would all get to see her sooner.  It turns out she had a brain aneurysm and consequently was suffering a massive brain bleed, the worst one a person can have.  She was put on a ventilator and we were told she would not recover.

As the nurse spoke I hated that my family was in a situation that seemed all too familiar only with another loved one in the hospital bed.  I hate that we knew what questions to ask.  I hate that we understood everything she was saying.  I hate that we all had to politely nod as she explained about brain swelling and what happens when the pressure begins to affect the brain stem.  I hate that my dad had to spend another night in ICU.  I hate that this will be the third death in my family in six months.  But I'm glad that we were able to go and tell her goodbye and that we'll be there as she takes her last breath this afternoon.  I'm glad that I have thirty years of memories with her.  I'm glad that I saw her on Saturday and the first thing she asked me about was a trip I'm taking this summer.  I'm going to visit a friend, he really is just a friend, and she said, "Tell me about this boy you're going to see?"  I said, "What do you want to know?"  She said, "Is he attractive?"  I said, "Actually, he's extremely attractive."  She said, "So is he going to move here?"  I laughed and said, "Grandma, he's just a friend."  Then she said, "You need somebody local.  You need to find someone who will take you out to dinner.  Because men that take you out to dinner are fun."  And then she giggled.  I'm glad that that is one of the last things she said to me in addition to telling me she loved me.  And I'm glad that SHE was out to dinner - with her man-friend - having fun as she experienced her last earthly thoughts.  But most of all, I'm glad that the Lord chose her to be my grandmother.  I will miss her dearly but rejoice knowing I will see her again.

Approaching 1 year...

Well, this month will be 11 months...I remember everything we did the whole month of January and February last year mainly because we were so happy and so many things were starting to change for us. We had big plans and we were excited about them. Our baby girl turned 1 year old and we were so in love with our daughters.
He was also traveling a lot and missed a lot of fun things with the girls and I and I missed him being gone. I could not wait for him to be home. At the same time I was getting myself ready for him being gone for 6 weeks and travel more frequently.
Little did I know then that God was preparing me for this. But looking back at all the emotions that I went through exactly a year ago I am amazed at how God prepared me in a way. There are too many things that happened exactly a year ago to list here, but just trust me when I say it is amazing.

My relationship with God has changed too. I have not been able to go to Bible study or immerse myself in any kind of study or prayer group right now - even quite time. I am too raw. Too much talking or too much quite time are not good for me right now. And I am ok with that. I know my limit. But I do feel such a sense of comfort in that I do not feel farther away from God in any way. Instead I feel like the "Footprints in the Sand" poem.
I feel like I am completely in the hands of God and He is carrying us through this journey of healing. I feel that He is in everything we do everyday. He hears every cry I send his way, every heart ache I endure during the days. He is in my girls life and heart. I know that the path God leads us on will be good. I don't know what that path is and it might be something completely different from what I envision for us right now, but that is why I am learning to live in the present. God is truly taking care of us.

I am also relating to Judy's last post. I feel like my "time" is running out because in one month I will no longer be able to say that we did such and such thing with him last year. Time is moving on and we have new pictures and new memories now that do not include him. That hurts me to the bone. But it is life and we are survivors. We are still here and we have a purpose so we must continue to make a life full of memories. We will very often go back to the days when Papa was here (this is how we have been referring to them lately) and we will always remember him and love him.
There have been so many times where I can see Isabella thinking of him and I know what she is thinking because it is the same thing I think about...what he would be doing or saying at that moment. I can hear him nonstop in my head - the silly comments he would say about stuff, his mannerisms, how he would react to the girls. I sometimes feel he is looking over my shoulder at stuff with me. She tells me that she hears him and he tickles her. I guess these are ways our minds and hearts find to soothe our souls and make it more bearable. At these times we always manage to come out smiling :)

The biggest shock to me is how I have survived not seeing or touching the love of my life for almost a year. When I put it in one phrase like that I can't breathe and I feel my heart skip a beat...it us unbearable pain that you feel deep down - the reality of it. Then I swallow and remind myself I will see him again.

Thank you for reading and following our stories. I hope that I am able to help those of you going through hard times. I hope that all the readers have made the most of the time with loved ones.

God bless and thank you for your prayers. Please continue to pray for us especially for this next 2 months.

life in pictures...

I hesitate to write anything like this because these feelings are not my norm.  Sometimes when I put stuff like this people misinterpret it and think I'm in a really dark spot and I'm not.  It becomes annoying enough that I would rather not put anything at all, however, these are honest thoughts and I want to share them so I will.

My mom has a very dear friend who lost her only child around seven years ago.  It was 2004 and we found out about his accident during one of my wedding showers.  Ironically, he and Keith were both taken to the same ICU hall of the same hospital in Austin although years apart.  I was browsing through Facebook the other day and I saw an album that she had entitled "Sweet Memories".  That's probably where I came up with the title of my last blog, although I did not do it intentionally.  Anyway, I looked through the pictures of her son and as I looked it hit me.  I thought, "He looks so young!  I can't believe how young he looks!"  Then my brain stopped.  That's how it works with me.  I'll be doing something seemingly harmless when a connection is made and then my brain freezes.  Everything stops and it's as if everything that has stopped is channeled into a piercing correlation of what that means for Keith and me.

As I scrolled through pictures of Jeff and Jeff with his daughter and Jeff with his parents I got it.  I understood what was in my future.  He looks young because we are older.  Everyone is getting older but him.  And Keith.  And anyone else that is no longer with us.  Their age is frozen and they will never get any older.  A friend of ours emailed a picture of Keith and me at the Alamo Bowl when Texas Tech played Iowa back in 2002 or somewhere around there.  When I saw it I thought, "Man, we look like babies; we were so young."  Eventually that statement will ring true for every picture I have of Keith...and I have a lot.  I'll get older and he never will. 

Again, just for clarification, these things happen every so often but then I move on.  I don't dwell on them and force myself into a funk realizing that Keith will never have another birthday.  I continue to move forward and I believe these things are all a part of that process.

praying for peace...

The time that I come up with the best things to say on a post is usually when I am getting the girls down and my mind is starting to wind down. I am usually too tired to get back up and get on the computer. But usually I recall the great moments of the day and then as I am dozing off I realize all over again what has happened and how Mark is not waiting for me downstairs and sometimes I just flash back to being back in the hospital. I don't cry much but tears do stream down as I relive those first 2 weeks.
Today was a tough day. It snowed here in Dallas and it was fun, but really hard at the same time. For those of you who knew how Mark was, you know what he would have been doing today - it would have been a perfect family day. No golf today - too cold, so he would have been 100% enjoying the full day with us. It would have started out with a full buffet of breakfast foods, followed by going out in the snow and starting a snowman with his girls. Then hot chocolate and a nap with football in the background. Then another round of snow and playing hide and seek and other silly games in the house. We would have done some chores and just enjoyed each other. Probably worked on our goals for the year.
Well, as most days, I did what we would have done (and most days it is fun and we create new memories) but today it was just hard. We did go out in the snow and had a good time - but it was just hard to do. I imagined him the whole day and then that lead to the ugly feeling of being mad. Today I just became mad - and that is not my personality so then I was just moody. And I got moodier as the day went because I could not get a break and I still had to care for my daughters, smile and not pass on my moodiness to them. When I read this and say it out loud I see how "whiny" it sounds. God has blessed me a lot and I know this. But today I am giving my feelings their place.
I am mad. I am not mad at God, but I am questioning certain things. I don't understand why He would give us such wonderful girls and have them grow up with out a dad. I am mad we have to tell the same story again and again to keep his memory alive, I am mad that I could not play in the snow the way I wanted to, I am mad that he is not here, I am mad that I cry in my daughters bed at night, I am mad that I am having to make such big decisions by myself all the time, I am mad that there are so many unknowns, I am mad that my friendships have all been affected by this, I am mad that my loss is what is the focus is daily, I am mad that I am writing in this blog because of what has happened, I am mad that I know what Myocarditis is, I am mad that my girls are growing up so fast and this made them grow up even faster, I am mad that I have no chance of having another baby, I am mad that everywhere I look or hear something, something reminds me of him or that he is no longer with us. I AM MAD.
I know I will be fine, I know that. I know this is a valley I am in and I will come out of it, but that does not change this feeling. I am so mad that I am going through the feeling because it is so typical of what they say of the grieving steps. Anger is part of it. I am so mad that I am even going through this process.
As much as it is going to hurt to go through change, I am ready for change...a different house, a different drive home, new acquaintances. I want to feel loved, love and be loved again. I want to have a connection with an adult again. I know what Mark wants for me and I am at peace with that. I am just ready for things to happen. I pray for God to continue to heal me and those around me.

The Chair...

The other night as we were having a nice dinner with Christmas music playing in the background. Ave Maria came on and it completely captured me and took me back to our wedding day when Mark and I held hands praying together kneeling down and crying together. It was one of the happiest days of my life...then I snapped back to real life and found myself staring at the 4th chair in our kitchen nook table...empty and pushed in with no place mat or food. It was then that I realized that I have been avoiding that chair for the past 9 months. Then that took me to about 10 months ago when we would sit around and talk after dinner while listening to music and the girls learned to play together. Anna would be crawling around trying to walk and Bella had short hair and still looked like a baby. How I missed him and hearing about work and just sharing a glass of wine talking and laughing. Enjoying our daughters and laughing along with them at the funny things they did. Honestly, I feel that I reached the up most happiness in my life at those moments and they were just beginning. I am so grateful I have those moments to remember, but I want more of them. And I want them with him. I want those moments for the girls - so they can remember what we had and how we were a complete and happy family. How does it get better than those moments? How will I experience that again? I know I will experience a new type of wonderful happiness at some point in my life again, but I feel my heart will always have a hole in it and no experience will ever be as good as those moments. Thank God for video and pictures.

One of the last nights we were sitting around after dinner and Mark grabbed his guitar. He started playing a bunch of Bella's favorite songs (Barney and others). We joked around that he should quit his job and start covering Barney songs with some other guys and they could be the next Wiggles! He did a great Barney cover. :) So then after we sang Fix You as a family, he started playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and ended with You are My Sunshine. The girls both climbed on his lap and he was teaching them how to play the guitar and Bella and him were singing. It was beautiful. And it was a moment we wanted to capture and I usually would have but this time I could not find the camera and I told him that we would take a picture later...on another night because at that moment I thought we had a lifetime of those moments. Boy was I wrong. I would do anything to have a video of that night. For the next couple of weeks we sang You are My Sunshine to each other none stop...and for some reason when he was in the hospital and I was on top of him trying to hold on to what I could, all I could get out of my mouth was that song. I could not stop singing it at the top of my lungs. I never knew how true those lyrics would be for me.
Please pray for our family during these weeks as we approach 9 months and especially for my sweet girls. For them to feel love, love, love. For God to wrap them up in love and protect their grieving hearts.

suffering...

I had some time to read earlier so I pulled out one of my devotionals.  I didn't feel like flipping to today's date, so I flipped to the day Keith died.

From Streams in the Desert:

August 28

There he tested them.  (Exodus 15:25)

I once visited the testing room of a large steel mill.  I was surrounded by instruments and equipment that tested pieces of steel to their limits and measured their breaking point.  Some pieces had been twisted until they broke, and then were labeled with the level of pressure they could withstand.  Some had been stretched to their breaking point, with their level of strength also noted.  Others had been compressed to their crushing point and measured.  Because of the testing, the manager of the mill knew exactly how much stress and strain each piece of steel could endure if it was used to build a ship, building, or bridge. 

It is often much the same with God's children.  He does not want us to be like fragile vases of glass or porcelain.  He wants us to be like these toughened pieces of steel, able to endure twisting and crushing pressure to the utmost without collapse. 

God does not want us to be like greenhouse plants, which are sheltered from rough weather, but like storm-beaten oaks; not like sand dunes that are driven back and forth by every gust of wind but like granite mountains that withstand the fiercest storms.  Yet to accomplish this, He must take us into His testing room of suffering.  And many of us need no other argument than our own experiences to prove that suffering is indeed God's testing room of faith.

It is quite easy for us to talk and to theorize about faith, but God often puts us into His crucible of affliction to test the purity of our gold and to separate the dross from the metal.  How happy we are if the hurricanes that blow across life's raging sea have the effect of making Jesus more precious to us!  It is better to weather the storm with Christ than to sail smooth waters without Him.

I know I was tested, but I wonder if Keith was tested too.  I wonder if there were marked times that his body was failing and his sheer will to live, along with the help of the Lord, kept him alive.  Part of me thinks that even when Keith was totally unresponsive that we were still working as a team.  I feel that we were both on a journey and that the Lord took us - or brought us - to a place where we were both ready to be released from it.

I have heard about the joy of suffering, and I wonder if the person who coined the phrase truly suffered - or if they just thought they had suffered.  Because to me, as one who has suffered, there is not a joy of suffering.  I believe that joy can be found while suffering because I experienced true joy while suffering, and this was a joy given only by the Lord.  I felt this joy in the midst of my pain, this honest, pure feeling of joy, but I would never say that I experienced the joy of suffering.  Suffering does not equal joy to me.

Regardless, Keith and I suffered and I can only hope that we suffered well.  If I had to lay us to rest, I would say the following:

Keith and Judy Beasley
December 1999 - August 2010
Together as one July 24, 2004 - August 28, 2010
We loved each other and lived well.
We were blessed; we were tested.
We suffered; we were released.
And because of the Lord's love for us,
We will see each other again.

hope for the hopeless...

Wow.  This is great.  The man, Chip, is the elementary school principal at Carrollton Christian Academy which is where I went to school from 4th grade until I graduated.  I do not know him or his family, but heard about him shortly after his incident from several different people and it makes my heart happy that his family will live happily ever after.  Miracles happen.

good grief...

When I knew Keith was approaching death I Googled the stages of grief:   

1) Denial and Isolation
2) Anger
3) Depression
4) Bargaining
5) Acceptance 

There were about a million websites devoted to this topic, but what about the stuff no one talks about?  I would have found it very helpful to read something about the phenomenon that happens to food during crisis or tragedy.  Nobody told me that everything I tried to eat would have no taste.  As far as I was concerned, it was crumbs in my mouth and that was about it.  Nothing sounded good and it all got stuck in my throat.  I knew it was bad when my cupcake friend offered to bring me cupcakes and I couldn't even do that.  It just didn't sound good.  I was then faced with people saying, "Judy, you need to eat.  You need to take care of yourself."  What they didn't understand was that I tried, I really did, but it's hard to eat when every type of food sounds about as good as eating your own vomit. 

Another thing no one told me was that no matter what I would take to induce drowsiness, sleep would evade me.  Sleep was not my friend.  I remember thinking, "What do you do when one Ambien just isn't enough."  I didn't take two, but I didn't sleep either.  If I did nod off then I would wake up shortly after seeing Keith's body after he passed.  I couldn't get his image, specifically his hands, out of my thoughts.  I would wake up and then be haunted by the same images that caused me to wake in the first place.  Nobody told me that my dreams, nightmares, and reality would all blend together forming the perfect funk which eliminated sleep.

How about when your brain becomes mush?  What stage of grief does that fall under?  I forgot things, couldn't come up with certain words and was generally just less intelligent.  I was about as sharp as mud.  Probably about as clear as mud too.  It's similar to pregnant brain, but WAY worse.  

I am happy, however, to report that food regained its taste and that Ambien is now working.  I still struggle with the mushy brain syndrome, but I think it's slowly getting better.  I guess what I took away from the stages of grief is that everyone grieves in their own way.  There is no textbook answer to surviving a crisis and grieving appropriately.  I think it's just hard when we get hit with something no one talks about or if our grieving sounds different than the "typical" grieving.  I was reminded of this the other day when I received this email from one of our friends:

I’m thinking about Keith a lot these days.  It’s strange because before he died I didn’t think about him as much.  In fact I really wanted him to be made whole and was relieved when he passed.  It’s like that relief is passing and now I just flat out miss the guy.  I really didn’t expect to feel this way.  I thought about it a lot last night just trying to understand why I’m thinking about him so much more now than when he was in the hospital and I think it has something to do with anxiety about forgetting or losing him completely. I keep seeing the same image over and over of Keith throwing his head straight back laughing at something someone said.  I’ve seen it a thousand times over the years and it’s like I’ve grabbed that image and my mind is replaying it over and over to keep from forgetting it.  

We are all missing Keith and it doesn't matter if our grieving falls into one of the stages of grief or not.  Depending on your relationship with the person, you will grieve differently and it will be done so in different ways.  The important part is that we allow ourselves to do it in however long it takes to get through it.  I think the real tragedy would be for someone to close off the opportunity to grieve for their loved one because without grieving appropriately it will always remain difficult to access the good times and memories of the person - the times that you're grateful you had and the memories that you'll never forget because they're written on your heart.  

If you must grieve, experience good grief.  Because the person you loved and have lost would want you to focus on the good times you had, not what could have been.

the dreaded firsts...

At Keith's second funeral the pastor gave the following anecdote from a widower regarding the loss of his wife: The first year will be hard. However, if you can make it through that first year it will get easier. The first year is particularly hard because you have all of the "firsts" you are forced to face alone - the first anniversary without them, the first Christmas without them, the first Valentine's Day, birthday, etc.

Well, what about me? I've had my first year. Heck, I'm almost halfway through my second. Although my case is a little different, it's not by much. And, in fact, I feel like mine is different because it was harder to deal with. Technically, I've been a widow for two weeks. However, in reality, I've been a widow for seventeen months. I've had my first Christmas without Keith even though he wasn't gone. Last Christmas I spent the entire day with my parents, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephew, yep everyone...everyone but Keith. So as the day was coming to a close and everyone returned to their own homes to wrap up a cozy Christmas, I drove to the nursing home by myself. I got in Keith's hospital bed and sat beside him and then probably told him that I didn't hold it against him for not getting me a present. I went to the nursing home to spend time with him, but it wasn't him. Then I probably sat there and cried. I cried off and on at different points during our journey while sitting beside Keith. Sometimes the reality of it was just too hard and it was difficult for me to grasp just how badly our lives sucked. But when I grasped it, I cried. And spending Christmas night in a nursing home with your thirty-one year old husband who no longer responds to anything is a time where tears were necessary.

What about anniversaries? In 2009 ours was spent in the hospital. In 2010 it was spent with my sister and Brooks at Gatti Land. I can honestly say that never in a million years would I have imagined eating my anniversary dinner at a pizza buffet.

I understand what the pastor was saying about the difficulty of the first year without your loved one, but to me, I almost feel like mine will be better. Not better because Keith is gone - that's not it at all. Better because part of me thinks that this first year without Keith couldn't possibly be any worse than what I have been facing since April of 2009. I guess only time will tell, but I sure hope I'm right.

my sentiments exactly...

After Keith died I heard people speak of him and tell stories about him. A couple of times I heard things and thought, "Man, Keith would have loved to have known that." I don't know what it is about death and dying, but people speak with more conviction and vulnerability regarding the loved one and they say things that might not have been said had the person not been ill. I have always heard the expression about telling people you love them because you never know when the day will come that you can no longer do so. But what about the every day things? Things like why we like a particular friend or an attribute that we find admirable. Why don't we tell our friends and family these things? I can't speak for Keith, actually I can because I know him inside and out, and I know that he would have LOVED to hear some of the things that I heard spoken about him - things about what made him great and why he was a good friend to have and what he did that made people laugh. Why is this something that might be weird to bring up? Why are honest, sentimental statements reserved for only special occasions...like a funeral? I remember Keith looking me square in the eyes saying, "I love you so much." And I responded by saying, "Why?" So he said, "Why what?" So I said, "Why do you love me so much?" And this was a great conversation to have because it's good to think about these things. I am drawn to certain people and click well with certain personality types. But when forced to really think about why I am friends with particular people or what it is that really draws me to them, it can be difficult to come up with answers. "We just get along," or "We have a lot in common," aren't really great answers. Figure out what it is that you are drawn to in your friends, family and loved ones, and let them know. If it's too embarrassing to bring it up or you think it will come across as awkward, then write it out and send them a card. Everyone loves a sincere acknowledgment - especially regarding their character.