My Name is Kris and I Blah-g

I know that Michaela misses her Daddy. She doesn’t really express much emotion about it and hasn’t really at all in the time that he’s been gone. I think we’ve only had two meltdowns. The first was when her hamster Henry died which was not too long after Daddy. Too much loss? I am not sure. I think part of it was because I wouldn’t get her a new hamster (sorry but as cute as Henry was, he was kinda gross and I got stuck cleaning his cage – not gonna go there again). The 2nd was on our trip to Florida earlier this year. Our last family vacation with Mike was to Disney World in September 2007. Believe it or not, there was a lot of foreshadowing prior to that trip and in hindsight I know I was being prepared. I felt strongly then that it would be our last vacation together. It pains me to admit that now. But the inclinations that I was having then were too strong for me to deny now. I just knew. We returned to Disney World this past March. And it was a big trip. I had traveled alone with Michaela before but they were small 1-2 day trips so it was pretty easy. But this was a full week in Florida and by about 4 days into it we were both feeling the strain and we fell apart in each other’s arms crying over how we missed Dad. I know I instigated it. I always do when it comes to him because like her father, Michaela tries to avoid anything sad. She’d just rather not go there. In fact the day of his funeral she put her foot down and told me that we were allowed to cry at the funeral but once it was over, NO MORE. She wanted to spend what time she had left with his family celebrating her Dad and having a party. She was and IS a very insightful child. We had the party per her request and it was just what everyone needed. Still….she didn’t cry at the funeral. She faced it with bravery and was stoic much like her Dad. I am so opposite…I just have to let it out. Sometimes I wish she would just because I know that for so long Mike bottled things up and it wasn’t good. And I’ll leave it at that…So, she doesn’t cry for her Dad. But there are times when she mentions him out of the blue – often in fact. She freely requests to visit him and she loves to talk about the funny things he used to do. It’s healthy for her and me to talk about it. Her Dad was a great guy and he loved her very much. I don’t ever want her to forget that. But time is flying by. It’s only been about 22 months yet Michaela is 7 now and so much “older” than she lets on. I think back to that little girl in the blue dress that touched her Daddy for the last time at the funeral and I can’t believe she’s the same little girl. She keeps much to herself although I try to get it out of her. He was the same way and it drove me nuts. I usually found out how he felt after the fact – usually in something he’d write on his Myspace page or in a card…today I found a little note that Michaela had written to her Dad on his Facebook Page which I still keep active. It said simply, “I love Daddy.”*sigh* How can you NOT get choked up when you see something like that?! I miss him too, Michaela. More and more every day…

Dear Mike,

I’ve thought about what I would say to you if I could see you again. I have considered writing you a letter which is kind of weird because where would I mail it? You’ve been gone now nearly 21 months. That in and of itself is hard to believe. Today I recognize a 2nd wedding anniversary without you. And I’m doing ok. I can be all poetic about the irony of celebrating a wedding anniversary without a spouse or I can lash out in anger in the injustice of how I lost you. But today I feel peace which is something I haven’t felt for a very long time. Perhaps I am coming to grips with my new life. Perhaps I have learned to accept it. Or simply…I have learned to live with it. They call it “finding a new normal” but I don’t see anything normal about it all. How can a person understand the depths of my sorrow unless they’ve walked in my shoes? How can I explain that I not only mourn YOU, the person but I also mourn the loss of my life’s goals, my identity of who I once was, the companionship I used to have and that love…the love I saw like when I looked into your eyes 12 years ago today and vowed to love you forever. It is a mighty black fog to wander in. You can’t see to take a step forward let alone a hand in front of your face. Grief is blinding. But in the midst of that darkness is hope. I can honestly say that now. Sure I will have days when I can fall back into a funk and feel sorry for myself but something has happened that gives me something to hold on to during those moments.

A couple weeks ago I was driving alone in my car. And I was letting my mind wander which is something I oft do. There are really only two places where I can really feel alone with my thoughts. One place is the bathroom and yeah, I think about you a lot in there because it was your favorite room of the house. And the other is my car. I talk to you a lot there. And I cry a lot there – or..at least, I used to. Not so much any more which is good because it’s hard to drive when you’re crying. But I digress…not too long ago I was driving and like many times before, you were on my mind. And I wasn’t thinking anything in particular…just that I missed you and wished you were here. And then I felt it. Love. IMMENSE LOVE. It was just like that day 12 years ago today. It felt like this:

I remember this moment 12 years ago today. I remember giving you that smile. Your face was flushed with happiness, nervousness and mostly relief because by this point the hard part of that day was over and we were ready to start our lives together. I remember the look in your eyes. I remember how your hands were shaking when I held them. I remember how you didn’t want to ride that tractor but I made you do it.

That’s love, baby. And in the middle of the freeway, doing 70 mph and not thinking anything in particular, that feeling enveloped me. 21 months…. it took you long enough! But I am grateful anyway. You managed to find a way to let me know. Thank you for the early Anniversary Gift…now if you can send a little more of that my way today, that’d be great.

Happy 12th Anniversary, hon…

Love your eternal partner,

Kris

Happy Father’s Day, everyone! Today is weird. The anticipation is usually worse than the actual day. For the past couple of days I’ve been feeling pretty “blah” about this whole day but now that it’s here, I’m ok. Go figure. Today is also strange because we can’t celebrate it like we used to. Last year didn’t count because we were flying home from Hawaii on Father’s Day. It was a good distraction. There was no time to be too reflective. But this year, we’re at home. Church has been cancelled because there is a Swine Flu break out here in our area and so we’re just kinda hanging out today. We’ll go visit Mike at the cemetery today and we’ll shower Grandad with presents but that will be that. It’s kinda sad in a way. No pomp and cirumstance. No paper ties for the Dads at church. Just quiet. I was looking at some pictures of Mike and Michaela this morning. Mike was a doting father. I think sometimes he expected more out of Michaela than she gave – perhaps a Daddy’s girl. She wasn’t. She loved her father, don’t get me wrong. But she’s always been a little attached to me. Selfishly, I think that’s kinda cool but in a way I am wondering if it was some divine plan to help us both out because Mike wasn’t going to be here as time went on. We were going to need each other. And we do. I am not sure how well I could have coped the past 18 months had she not been here. She’s a remarkable little girl. Anyway, I have a few pictures to share. I actually have tons of pictures of Mike and Michaela. If there’s one thing I have done right the past 7 years it’s that I have documented her life pretty well. She will always have these memories of her Dad…

These moments come when I least expect them. But a couple events are colliding this week and I suppose the feelings I am experiencing are to be expected. Still…I wish they would just stay away. I’ve been there, done that, so to speak. Honestly, after nearly 18 months I am ready to stop feeling this way. Tomorrow is Father’s Day. And like last year, we’ll make a pilgrimage to the cemetery to leave flowers for Mike. This custom helps Michaela. She needs a place to go and I wonder how as time goes on how much she’ll remember of her Dad. So far, she’s doing really well. We speak of him often. We laugh about some of the crazy things he used to do. And usually these talks will follow up with this question she asks me, “You gonna cry, Mom?” I suppose she’s seen me do a lot of that in the most recent past. The tears come every once in a while – not as steady as they used to. I am thankful for that. It’s exhausting. I am thankful that I can speak about her Dad – most of the time, without tears. And as grateful as I am for the dry eyes, it doesn’t stop the thoughts….the quiet moments of staring out the window… the feeling of a heavy heart. It started for me last night. No warning. It just happened. I had hoped that sleep would allow me to wake today with a renewed energy to forget this mood and hope for a happy weekend. But the clouds are grey again, the rain is falling and it’s just so easy to keep the feelings blue.My realtor called yesterday. The final appraisal is done. The sale is going through. There’s no reason for me to go over there anymore. I just need to wait for the call. Then, I will go get the check cut for what I owe (which is  A LOT) and with that and Mike’s death certificate in hand, I will go sign the papers to release the house from my name. And that will be that. The burden of a monthly house payment will be gone but that is the only thing that I relieved about. It’s hard to react when I am congratulated about this. Really? Congratulations on selling the home I shared with my husband and daughter? Is that good news?So, I will allow myself this moment to be sad but I am determined to get myself out of this because I am done. I am done being sad. I am done feeling sorry for myself. I am done allowing what was to define who I am now. It’s not me. Wish me luck…I’m gonna need it.

The realtor called today. The buyers have finally accepted the terms of the sale and now all I have to do is wait. They had hit my last nerve the other day with all of their demands and then had the nerve to want me to lower the price even more. I was about to throw in the towel and keep the house. It just seemed like it was worth more to me than them. In many ways it feels like a chore to go there. It’s a good 20 minute drive to get there. But then once I am there, it’s home. I lived there with my husband and child for 4 years. When I stand in my living room, I would think that I would feel immense sadness because that is where Mike drew is last breath. But, I don’t. Nothing about the house creeps me out. If anything, I feel closer to him there. And now with the sale of the house appearing to actually happen, it’s the so called proverbial start of the next chapter. I feel like I am closing the book, though. I mean, if my life before all of this was Chapter 1, that is one heck of a long chapter.We go through periods in our lives that see changes. We have our birth. Our adolescence. Our teenage years. Our 20s. Marriage. Children. And I would think that if you stick on that same course, you’re within the same book. But when you face the death of a spouse, all of a sudden your whole outlook changes. Who are you as an individual? Are your goals the same? Do you want the same things as you did before he died? What do you want to be? What is your path? Nah…this certainly doesn’t feel like a new chapter to me. This definitely feels like a new book. My old book will end with the sale of my house, I think. It’s my last material connection to Mike.Of course, he’ll always be with me. Every time I look at Michaela, he’ll be there looking back at me. Every time she bites her nails I will be cursing him through clinched teeth because that was one of his bad habits that drove me crazy. She looks just like him doing the same thing and what’s ironic is that she didn’t get the habit until after he died.  *sigh*To some degree, the idea of starting new is a little exciting. There are a lot of possibilities. But on the other hand, it’s scary. I look at that picture at the top of this post and I remember that moment so well. And I end up missing him so much. And it makes me want to keep that old dusty book open so I can re-read some of those chapters. But you can’t go back…Here’s to looking forward.

Endings… Yesterday was a tough day. I kinda figured I’d feel somewhat emotional at the funeral but I wasn’t prepared for the feeling I had as I walked into the chapel. My heart started to beat harder, I felt a little shaky and it was unnerving. A friend came up and said hi and asked how I was doing. I told her that I felt a little weird but otherwise ok. Looking back I’d say that was a total lie. I wasn’t ok. The flashbacks to a year ago were vivid and real. This was going to be difficult. The music being played helped and we had several minutes to wait before things got underway. But things soon did get going and before I knew it we were instructed to stand as the coffin and subsequent parade of family filed into the chapel. I tried not to look at them because I remember all to well having all eyes on me. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Seeing the pity reflected in people’s eyes doesn’t inspire confidence that I would have liked to have had that day.The service was kinda long yesterday but it was to be expected. Carlos was a well loved and respected man with 9 surviving children, 30 some odd grandchildren and a great grandchild. This of course didn’t include his 6 siblings and countless other relatives. Let’s just say the family took up the main part of the chapel while the rest of us were sitting in the cultural hall. That’s ok though. It’s how it should have been. The tributes were lovely. Carlos deserved all of them. However I could not stop the feelings of envy as I listened to how many times Carlos faced death in the past 27 years. He had fought heart disease for nearly 3 decades and had had many chances to cross to the other side and yet his family was given – even up to the very end – every opportunity in the book to be with him, love him and say their goodbyes. Carlos got to go on his own terms and he accomplished the list of things that he wanted to do before he died. According to family he did all of them. And when it became apparent that his time was really drawing to a close, he waited for all of his children to be there before he went. How wonderful for him and how fortunate for his family. I know they are grateful for they said so. But as all of this was coming to light, I could not help but feel completely sorry for myself and for Michaela. Carlos’ children all paid tribute to their father in some way. They had so many wonderful things to say and all hoped that his influence would enable them to be better people. All I could think about was that Michaela probably won’t be able to say any of that about her father. If I am lucky, she will have some fond, yet foggy and vague memories of him but let’s get real. Whenever I try to remember things when I was 5 years old, not too many memories surface. I can barely remember yesterday let alone 32 years ago. What will she take with her as she moves on in her life? Suddenly the weight of responsibility was feeling heavier and it was all on me. I am the one who is going to have to shape this person. What will she say about me at my funeral? This burden is heavy….. we are all given opportunities to make our choices. They ARE our own. But our choices can impact other people and change their lives forever. I think about that a lot. In the beginning there was so much anger. And to a much lesser degree, I have moments when I would love the opportunity to give Mike a piece of my mind for putting me into this situation. But I have to also wonder…is there anything that I could say to him that he hasn’t already thought himself? I can’t begin to fathom what things must be like. On one hand, we’re told that the peace and light of the other side is wonderful. But on the other hand, we may not take any possessions with us, but I would have to say that we’re all here for a reason and that’s to learn and we take with us the lessons we learned in life and I think a big part of that is regret. So, I was a big giant snot ball at the funeral. And I suppose for people who don’t know me or my situation, they must have thought that I was grieving Carlos in a pretty big way. But let it be known that although I am sad for his family for having to miss such a guy, I am happy that Carlos is free of his pain. He’s at peace now and all is well. The feelings are still raw and will be for a while. But it’s not about just one thing. Grief encompasses the loss of my love, the loss of my identity, the guilt for not finding a way to prevent it from happening and the sorrow for just imagining how he must feel too. I think I may have to steer clear of funerals for a while…so, to all my loved ones… no dyin’… I don’t think my heart could take it.Beginnings...This was only the first half of my day yesterday. The next half was a visit to the Temple – my first since Mike’s death. I wasn’t sure what to expect while I was there. This was Katy’s special day and it should have all been about her. But yeah..I have my own selfish reasons for going. It was a good experience but I guess not what I expected or hoped for. I was asked if I had felt peace at all afterwards and I said that I didn’t know. I was mainly distracted by the moment seeing my niece go through for the first time – the look of wonder and emotion that she had. My other niece was there and she stood by her new husband. She glowed and looked so happy – there is so much ahead of them. My brother wept while he stood with his family. My dad sat close by my mother. And I stood alone staring up at the tall ceiling and the sparkling chandelier that hung in the center of the room. Peace? No. Not yet. Feeling more alone than ever? Yup. It sucks. I think I’ll have to return to the Temple again soon but I’ll need to do it alone. I think it’s the only way…Dreams… I haven’t dreamt much of Mike at all. In the beginning I was afraid to. That soon turned to just aching to see him again. First to remember my dreams is rare anyway. Even more rare is to have a dream with him in it. I think I may have only had one or two this past year and the dreams were your typical silly dreams. They usually made no sense and he was just there and there was nothing special about it because the thought that he had died never even existed within the dream. But last night’s dream was different. As dreams go, this one was just as weird as any other. I feel like the dream was directed by Tim Burton. They’re quirky and strange and sometimes the serious is dealt with such irreverence that you can’t help but laugh. So, to have a dream that began with a vision of Mike in his coffin, I knew the dream would be one to reckon with. I’m not going to get in to too many details. Because I am not sure the dream means anything at all. There is no rhyme or reason to why the dream started the way it did and why it proceeded to take such a strange turn. But this was the first time in a year that I had dreamt of him that also included his death. And what’s interesting to note is that in my dream I was talking to him and he was talking as if he had no clue as to what had just happened. I was feeling such guilt because the things he was mentioning didn’t even exist anymore and all of us had moved on to different lives without him. In the dream, I was trying to tell him this. And then the last thing I said was, “Mike, you died four years ago.” And then came the look on his face. That look when the lightbulb goes off but you’re too stunned to react to it. It was at this point that I must have emerged from a deep sleep because I started to get a sense of my actual surroundings as morning was dawning. Michaela was starting to stir and all I wanted to do was get back into that sleep so I could get back to my dream and explain things to him and help him understand so he’d be ok with it. But I never did get back to sleep. I woke wondering the significance of the four years because it’s only been one. …Dreams are exhausting and infuriating. They rarely make sense. They hardly are enjoyable. And for some reason, sometimes they are what we cling to.  I will say that the four years comment provided me a little clarity. I won’t wax philosophical about it but I will say that it all takes root in the decisions we make. From now on, I think I’d like to go back to those silly Napoleon Dynamite kinda weird dreams and leave those Tim Burton ones to Johnny Depp to act out!