Blazing Trails

Posted on November 3, 2011 by pathfinder

You only be around the people you love for so long before you need a break.  There is a reason that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and that familiarity breeds contempt.  I can see the signs that I am getting on my daughter‘s nerves, and that even her new husband is annoying her at times.  My husband is the lucky one, he is able to go off to work and leave us here to rattle around each other.   The happy couple just left to go for a hike.  The house is quiet and even the dogs are settling into their respective chairs.  Energy begets energy I suppose.

When they leave this Sunday, it will be different.  I will anticipate that it will be a couple of weeks before I will see them again.  I will worry over their travel time on the highways.  I will fret over what to have available for them when they return.  It is the strangest of push and pull -the need to have the ones we love with us and the need to be able to escape from them at times.

I know that there are times when I need to do something, pay bills, or clean the house and all I want to do is escape to my studio and paint or to the computer and write. There are times before that sheet of paper in the studio when I hear the dryer’s buzzer sound and gratefully abandon the work before me and settle for more mundane things.

When my son was living it was the same way.  We did well for about 3 days before he got on my nerves and I on his.  Thankfully if his visit was to be of any length it was usually punctuated by him choosing to take a hike, as his sister and her husband are doing now.  Hiking, in fact the same place where he would choose to go.  She asked me if I wanted to join them today, but I have yet to face that trail.  I have been on too many trails in my mind as it is.

The principle is the same as I mentioned before.  Because I cannot be with my son, I long  to be with him.   There are no 3 days in which to become aggravated any more.  There are just days and days of no contact.    Sometimes I wear out my sorrow and just feel blank – as if there are no feelings left to feel.

I have been able to be present with my daughter and son-in-law.  I have paid close attention to them and enjoyed them being here.   There are new dynamics to be explored and considered.

Last night in bed, my husband asleep beside me, the sorrow flooded back.   I talk to God a lot at night in the dark.  I’m not real sure that anything I ever believed or was taught as a child has any validity.   I believe there is a God, but I also believe we know very little about Him.  The explanations men give , trying to interpret as valid proof about God’s character, using what they call “scripture”( which are in fact letters written to other men who are equally confused about God’s character) frustrate me.   Some of their observations concerning love may be on track but the rest is comparable to you reading this and thinking you know my son.     You may have a glimpse or two about his character, but it is heavily biased by my own love of him.

I know because of who I am that I will continue to pursue as best as  I can , a relationship with God.  I just will.  My son pursued a relationship with the created (and he would perhaps laugh at that term preferring “natural world” instead).    I haven’t sorted that all out yet in my head and that is the only thing that continues to haunt me.  There are teachings that were drilled into me and were oh so easy to swallow because you did not even have to chew first.  They stick in my throat now.  I just want to stop trying to create a God in my own small image.  If indeed He is, then I will let Him be what He is.

But I am finding after this hiatus from God that I am beginning to miss Him too.  I miss the relationship He had allowed me to have with Him.    I miss the mindless comfort that I derived – because I thought it safe to allow him to be in control.   I think I misunderstood.

My daughter seems to have gotten a better handle on spiritual things than I had at her age.  Perhaps it is due in part with her own early brush with death when she was sick with leukemia.  She seems more matter-of-fact about her spirituality and I envy her sometimes.   I think it will serve her, her husband and future children well.

Maybe I gave my children too much freedom – too much space.  I digress.

I was awake a long time last night.  I tried to keep it down so as not to wake my husband who is taxed by work and his own stressors.

My mind wants what it cannot have.  The same pattern is at work here though it is in relation to a much weightier reality.

So is it wrong for me to remember the times when my son annoyed me? They are as much a part of the reality of who he was as anything.  Is it wrong to travel that trail when I need to justify myself for just wanting to be alone?

Sometimes, crazily,  I fear my time alone. that like that morning blissfully alone in my studio painting – not thinking about my son or daughter or husband.-painting, lost in the water and pigment one of the most precious things in my life disappeared from the face of this earth.  Was there some mean vibration in the cosmic flow caused by my selfish self centered enjoyment that triggered the fatal event?

Insanity!  Crazy superstitious thinking.   The little ball rolls around and around and then drops in to the slot every now and then.  The lights, light up and I rummage through the crazy thoughts, until they settle down again.

So right now, I am alone in the house with the dogs.  It is quiet and I like it.

I cannot spend every moment of every day with the people I love the most on the off chance that they might die that day. They might.  I might too. This is so confusing and I really don’t get it God.   I really don’t get much of anything at all.

I am trusting that there are more trails to be cut, some in the company of others, some alone.  I am eager and hopeful concerning where they might lead.

Posted in Coping with the Death of a Child, Death, Family, Marraige | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Wedded Bliss

Posted on November 2, 2011 by pathfinder

The newlyweds are now back at our house after their relaxing days at the spa and resort where they spent the first part of their honeymoon.  I hope the honeymoon lasts for years.  The wedding was beautiful in many ways.  The setting was perfect.  The chapel was like a perfect little gift box to wrap up the proceedings.

The bride our daughter had put so much thought into how the wedding itself should go.  Her music choices were very upbeat and cheerful.  The chapel is small so she had timed all the music perfectly so that no one was left standing for a long period of time.  She and the groom were really the only ones left to wait by themselves anywhere.  He waited in an anteroom off of the lobby while his groomsman seated the wedding guests.  She waited in the ladies parlor while her bridesmaids made their trek to the front of the chapel to wait for her.

There was no receiving line after the wedding at the church.  The wedding party scuttled down to hide in a hallway while the chapel cleared, the minister sending everyone on ahead to the country club where the reception dinner would take place.   My daughter had chosen the hors d ‘oeuvres to suit her grooms tastes, though little did she know she nor he would taste much of them once they arrived there.

Pictures were taken at the chapel.  I hurried back to the rooms to clean up and collect the brides things that needed to go with her in the limo.  At one point I came back to the chapel and everyone was gone!  For a moment I wondered if they had forgotten me or if the event had really happened.  Then I heard their voices outside.

We finally gathered everything together and both my husband and my car were loaded with ferns and boxes.  The wedding planner took the large flower arrangement we gathered the pew ribbons and whatnots.

The limousine arrived to transport the wedding party and my husband and I in our separate cars arrived at the reception.  Neither of us had thought to have a parking place reserved for us, so we found what we could.

I had not seen the place with the decorations we had planned in place.  The fireplace was lit, the mantle sparkled.  The flowers were perfection on the tables held aloft and lit from beneath  by electric votive candles under a sheer blue cloth.

The D.J. was set up on a balcony overlooking the dance floor.

The doors opened and the bride and groom’s arrival was announced.  They walked into the room and immediately began their first dance together.  They were beautiful.  We watched, almost embarrassed to see such unmitigated affection.  They were at that moment married in their love.

There were more dances, and lots and lots of food, little of which I tasted.  Though the wedding planner had everything well in hand, I found myself dithering over the smallest details.

It served to distract me.  I understood that about myself and allowed myself to give in to it.

There was an enormous outpouring of love that night from everyone there to the wedding couple and us their family.  I could feel the people who knew us best willing us to stay in the moment.  To make this new moment a memory that could sustain.

I know my  son-in-law reflected on how nice it would have been had his own mother  able to be there.  I did too.  I let that thought slip through my head for a moment but knew it too could unleash sadness.  I know there is a picture taken of the wedding couple holding a  picture of his mother and father.

I know that during my husbands speech and toast, his voice caught on the words when he spoke of his children.  I think our voices will always catch a little there, even though perhaps no one else will notice.

The wedding is over and their  life as a married couple is beginning.  For the first time yesterday I said to someone.  “I need to get back to the house, my daughter and her husband are there.”  Her husband.  My son-in-law.

There are people I have met who have lost children too.  They speak of signs from their children.  I am glad that they can find comfort in that thought.  I have not looked for signs from my son.  I don’t think I believe that is possible.  Had he that kind of power, then I wish he could have used it to prevent his accident while he was here.  I do believe the Spirit lives and intercedes at all  times on our behalf, perhaps to lay a calming hand upon our heart or remind us that we are not without hope.  Our family was joined that day in spirit and in hope for a bright future for ourselves and for the bridal couple.  I believe that our son’s spirit joined in the celebration too.

My daughter and her husband have their life with all its trials and joys before them and for that I am truly thankful.

It is fun to have them with us now, to revisit the wedding, to wait for the pictures to revisit it even more.   It is a lovely spot in my memory now to visit.    Here is to the bride and groom!

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Click

Posted on November 1, 2011 by pathfinder

The newscasters last night on our local channel reminded everyone that daylight savings time ends this coming weekend.  One of the comments was ” the days will be so short!”

Where have they been for the past month?  The angle of the sun had noticeably changed at the end of August.  I know it was a gradual thing up till then, but my perception is that it seemed rather abrupt.  This year I decided that I would purchase a “light box” to help me get past this transition.

I like to think I notice things.  I know that everyone notices things to a lesser or greater extent.   I assume people key into those things that matter to them.  That may be a wrong conclusion, and I certainly don’t want to accuse people of being unobservant.  I come from a family of “observers” and I will say that some of the things we notice really don’t matter much and seem a bit esoteric at times.  Needless to say we leave folks scratching their heads.

While looking through some of the photos that friends took during the wedding and reception I was struck by what they photographed.  Photos are a wonderful thing and have changed so many ways in which we have come to know our world.  Many photos were of the “highlights” of the day – the dances and the cake cutting, but many were much more personal.  I love that many included a large view of the people in the background, their expressions and interactions.

I am always startled when I see myself in photos.  I am much older than I thought, but that is another story.

The professional photographer seemed to be everywhere at once that day.  We are waiting to see what he captured.  He teased me the other day with one glorious photo of my daughter with her husband.  They radiate joy.

The wedding was on the dreaded day – Saturday.  For seventeen weeks it has been a difficult day to face.  The wedding certainly changed the complexion of that day with joy.

There are no photos to speak of  from the gathering held in our son’s honor.  There are some taken of his friends, but not many.  Our son was cremated, and I wish now that I had a picture of the table we put together to display the items that were icons of his life.  There is no way to incapsulate him really, but we tried.

I do have lots of pictures of him growing up, and recently he allowed more to be taken.  Usually if he knew we were focusing on his face he stuck his finger up his nose.

While my daughter was in the chair having her hair done by the hairdresser to decide how she would wear it for the wedding, she when I focused on her face, mocked her brother. “I should do this.” she said as she stuck her finger in her nose. Too late she realized she had hit a trigger with me.  But I understood it was just because she loved him and missed him too. I wish I had taken that picture anyway.

I think our mind is kinder in the processing of the photos of the the things we notice than the camera is.  They perhaps are not as sharp or distinct in some ways.  Perhaps the edges are blurred and softened a bit.   The image however remains.

There are images I wish I could ablate from my mind.   We all have those too.

I find as I write more and more about my family, my children, that  I can shake more dust off the images that I have collected in my lifetime.  Memories and images flood back in at times, unbidden, but I am learning to embrace them and consider them for what they are wrinkles and all.

We live in a time when pictures and images fly across the internet and through the phones.  We know instantaneously what that person saw at that given moment.

When our son fell, I tried to think of what he perceived.  I know he was probably confused about what was happening, startled and perhaps his adrenaline rushed. I think he saw the rocks and the sky and if there were trees above ,their green against that blue, blue sky.  I hope he was not afraid.   I do not want to picture him in fear because he was in all other ways so very brave.

My favorite picture is one taken by him and his sister when they were in Berlin together- just the two of them.  She is leaning in towards her brother and he is grinning.   I picture those faces most times.

As for the wedding  we will have lots of pictures  to remember it with.  It was an amazingly beautiful wedding.  It makes me  sad to know that our son’s face is not among those in the crowd.  Had he been there I could have asked him what he thought of it, what were the things he noticed.   He would have shrugged and said “it was nice.”

 

Posted in Coping with the Death of a Child, Family, Marraige | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Wedding

Posted on October 31, 2011 by pathfinder

I have a friend who reminds me of the Meg Ryan‘s character in “When Harry Met Sally.”  Every time I have ever dined with her at any restaurant she is the last to order because she has a difficult time making up her mind.  I think she probably knows just what she wants from the beginning but it has become a habit with her and she hesitates then makes her decision.  Perhaps it is because there are so few things in life we can really choose, and this being one of them, she makes the most of it.  Perhaps all of us would like to buy more time when making decisions, it gives us more of the feeling that we are in control.  But I will tell you, dear one, you are not in control of many things outside of yourself and only with great strength of will are you in control of yourself.

This weekend was a test of self-control for me.  I had many many people tell me that my husband and I were in their thoughts and prayers.  Since I believe that self-control is one of the fruits of the Spirit and can be influenced I thank everyone who petitioned on our behalf.  It worked.

The wedding week began early with the arrival of the bride and groom at our house late Tuesday night.  It was not without a glitch.  The groom had left his groomsman gifts and cell phone in Ohio.  They had to overnight a key to a friend who was coming down for the wedding to bring the forgotten items to the wedding itself.   Meanwhile, the groom took the bride’s phone, and the bride took mine.  We were all now operating on caller ID under assumed identities – all but me that is – who had no phone at all.

Wednesday I was chauffeur to the couple.  Errands, last minute details.

Thursday the groom left mid day to join his groomsman and friends for an early bachelor party.  The bride watched her (my) phone waiting to hear from him, to no avail.  We talked about why that was okay because she brooded a bit.  She had been working on little cards to stack on the table for her guests to locate their table at the reception.  I found her folded up in a kitchen chair staring blankly at one of the cards.

“Why am I doing this?” she asked.  “Everyone will just take their card and just . . .” she flipped it into the air where it landed unceremoniously on the floor.  “They can just look on the list!”

Friday the temperature dropped dramatically.  Rainy and cold we woke to a dreary wet day.  In the kitchen that morning we huddled over our coffee.

“I think you should call the girl at the country club.”  I said.

By 1:00p.m. we were meeting the wedding planner and event coordinator at the country club.  The reception was moved from the outdoor pavilion to the indoor restaurant/club area.   It took less than 45 minutes.   Yes the chairs had a fall covered chevron covering and the table numbers had to be reassigned but it still had panoramic views and was to say the least warm.

Five o’clock we were waiting at the church for the rehearsal.  Everyone showed up in a timely fashion.  The wedding director who worked for the church ticked off everything like clockwork.  I was fine up until the groomsman came to the front of the church.  I felt the tears welling up and a few escaped till I could choke them back.   The boyfriend of one of my daughter’s bridesmaid was standing in as bride, which served to  lighten up the evening.  There he stood before the minister with my son-in-law daintily holding hands – both about 6’3″.  There will be pictures.

Seven p.m. we are at the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner.  No ceremony or fancy trimmings we chose a place that has specialized in down home family cooking for years.   My friend that I mentioned at the beginning sat at our table with us.  She again was the last to figure out which meat entree she would choose, as the rest of the meal was family style.  I had to laugh, there were only 6 choices.

That night the men adjourned to their hotel room, the bride and bridesmaids to the house.   I thought about how much Josh would have enjoyed being the only bachelor in the house full of girls.  He might have gone to stay with the men, but somehow I doubt it, knowing him as I do.   I went to bed and shed a few tears.

I shed some more the next morning, in the shower.  Could not allow them to take over the day – better to release some of the pressure from the dam.

Two of our friends had brought food for us to share.  Huge chocolate chip brownies had been the staple for Friday night and two breakfast casseroles were there for Saturday morning.   I rose at 6:30 and put the casseroles in the oven, let the dogs out, started coffee.   “The day” had started.  We loaded the cars with all the “stuff’ and were off to the church by 10:30 a.m.

I thought we were arriving at the church too early – with the hair being done at 11:30 and the wedding not until 3:00 p.m.   Little did I know!   I could detail the frenzy, but It suffices to say I never sat down.  I guess the funniest was spraying two of the bridesmaids legs with Sally Hanson Airbrush Tan makeup.  There they stood, pants rolled up above their knees in the little garden with me, and then walking bowlegged holding their pants’s legs up down the hall back to the dressing area while it dried on their legs.  I think there is a picture of that too somewhere.

The bridesmaids were given the choice of dress style.  A number of dresses were available for them to choose from, and no one had to wear the same dress style- and as it turned out, no one did, though all were the same color.   All but one of those had to be steamed.

The bride was having makeup applied when I realized she was under florescent light – bad idea – and wearing a pink tee-shirt with BRIDE across the chest.  I found a chair by a window where natural light was streaming in, had the makeup artist move there and put a white cloth over the pink across the brides chest.

Our wedding planner kept popping in and out.  I had thought I would go to the reception venue and help with the decorations.  As it turned out there was no time for that, so she took care of it all and did so very well, I might add.

There was a moment when I was in the hall by myself when the thought hit again, that our son was not going to be here, but I brushed it aside, promising myself like Scarlett O’Hara, I would think about that later.

The groom and groomsman arrived.  I hugged him.  He had big tears in his eyes.  “My heart is beating!” he said.  I knew he meant that his heart was beating hard and fast.

” That’s a good thing! It will be okay.” I said.  “Go eat something and take a deep breath.”  We hugged again, and he went to follow my instructions.

I had steamed his shirt and the sleeves of his tux earlier.

Back to the girls -then bouncing back up to the guys room.  The rented tuxedos were a hodgepodge of sizes.  Pants were traded, shirts had 3/4 length sleeves, collars had to be left unbuttoned behind ties.  After some adjustments everyone at least had pants that were long enough.

I changed into my clothes – finally, meaning to work on my makeup – but I had no time.

My husband arrived.

The immediate family was asked to gather and be seated last since there were no grandparents or family members for the the groom.  As I walked back to where they had gathered I saw my nephew, our son’s cousin.  He was in corduroy and a plaid shirt with the tail untucked.  For the world it could have been my son.   I hugged him and told him his (our son) cousin would have approved.

The bride was breathtaking.  She has been strictly adhering to her dietary rules and exercising.  Her hair and makeup done , the bridesmaids and I helped her into her dress.  It settled around her slim frame like a whisper.   She truly glowed.  On her ears she wore my blue sapphires, around her neck the locket with her brother’s name within which is sealed a lock of his hair.   She and I were careful not to stand too long or look into each other’s eyes.  We were on a mission.

It was time for the wedding.

The family marched in.

I entered on my husband’s arm, both of us knowing it should have been our son’s.

The wedding party took their places.   The sun lit the stained glass window from the west, spotlighting the place where I sat.  My husband, his face already a storm about to break patted his daughters hand as they made their measured way down the isle. Tears came then, but only briefly.  I felt my face contort and knew it would be bad if I let it all out then.

“Who gives this woman?”  My husbands voice, softened by the tears spoke as firmly as he could.  He lifted the veil – he gave the bride to her groom – kissed his daughter and came to sit with me.

I concentrated on the preacher and my daughter.  I concentrated on my husband’s hands.   I felt the sun on us from the window.

Now that I am  away from all that I can picture our son’s face, his slightly lopsided smile, his eyes staring at times at some fixed point loosing focus for a moment as he considered the situation.  He would be thinking about the philosophical ramifications of the tradition for just a moment – the beautiful absurdity.   But he was not there in a rented tux.  He had no choice, nor did we.

The reception followed as elegant and as opulent as we could afford.  My husbands speech and toast brought many to tears, but again, I held it in.  I held it in because of my daughter who did not chose this for her brother not to be there.  I held it in because she deserved my undivided attention, and because her brother was a private man.  He would not have attention drawn to him in this situation   The spotlight was her’s and her grooms.  They are a beautiful couple.

My advice then is to always take time to choose as best you can and when each opportunity affords itself.  Choose to let anger go if at all possible.  Choose to take a  moment to hug those you love before you part with them for the day.  Choose to celebrate with those who are willing to celebrate.

My husband used some quotes from  “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten” in his speech.

The best one being something you can choose to do:

“And it is still true, no matter how old you

are – when you go out into the world, it is best

to hold hands and stick together. ”

My son may not have been there to hold my hand, but he still holds a huge part of my heart.  Your sister was beautiful, son.  You would have been proud of her and I know you would have been there had you had a choice.

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Wedding Daze

Posted on October 27, 2011 by pathfinder

The wedding.  The wedding is day after tomorrow.  The dining room is full of “stuff”. The bride is busy with seating arrangements at the wedding and place cards.  I have been working on getting our hot tub up and operational so when the bridesmaids spend the night they can use it if they want to.

We have picked out songs for dances at the reception, set budgets for wine and beer to be available.  The wedding planner sends us emails and gives us calls as we head for the finish line.  The groom is on is way to be with his groomsman and spend the evening out – the bachelor party, wisely planned a night early to give everyone time to be back in peak condition by the wedding day.

It has a strange unreal quality and I realized I wasn’t plugged in as well as I should be when I found I had been standing for quite a while watching the water level rise in the hot tub.   I felt my feelings welling up like the water level.

My daughter with a look of anguish, said “in two days all this work will be over!”

I think we both dread the quiet of reality.  For nine months she has been planning this wedding.  In July all plans got set aside and she had to deal with her brother’s death.  The wedding planning served a good purpose though.  It was a good diversion from the sadness.

Most of us know that she will be very busy after the wedding getting used to married life.  There will be more time for her, however, to think about her brother.

I don’t know how I feel, and that bothers me.   I am so happy for her and her fiance, I know they will work hard at making a good life together.   I have times when I am numb.  The dulling down of everything is frustrating, but is protection from the raw feelings that are  exposed is the only way to survive at times.

The other annoyance is that I am used to giving in to my grief in short bursts.  Now there is no time and I can feel it building up like the clouds out there today.  It can take entire days away when it happens like this.

A friend of mine who also lost her son said the other night that she while at a gathering in his honor realized with a jolt that her son is really not coming back.

Our son is really not going to be walking down the isle at the wedding, or dancing with his sister, or going out with the boys tonight or picking on me by coming to “rub off my eyebrows.”  How is that possible?  I tell myself these things in an attempt to go ahead and jolt myself – to say finally yes, he is not coming back.  My mind refuses to comprehend it.

I will see that look in my husbands eye and we will touch each other’s hand or arm and we will suck it up till we are alone and can be with our grief.

I wanted all these tears to be tears of joy for my daughter.  She deserves them.  I have to talk to myself and remind myself and try to make it as real as it can be, because reality has been all torn up and is frayed at the edges now.

My son would have been with us today.  Picking on us, maybe suggesting we all go for a hike to settle our nerves, playing with all the dogs.  He would have gone with the groom and groomsman eventually,  but probably to join them somewhere later – when they found a place they had settled on.  He would have come home to be here at night though – basking in the fact that he is the bride’s  brother and is allowed to hang out here.

People say, and I know they mean it, that he will be  with us in spirit.  I hate to be unthankful, but that is just not enough.  I can’t wrap my arms around that.  So I am opening the faucet today and letting the tears flow – now that my daughter’s fiance is out and about, I don’ t need too many witnesses.    I need the man, my son, spirit and all with his lopsided smile and sparkling eyes.  I need his arm looped over my shoulder and his wry sense of humor.  I need my son because this is a family affair and he is supposed to be here.

So I’m gonna rant today and let my tears flow unfiltered, hot and salty and try to get some of this out so it won’t spill over into Saturday too much.

I’ve gotten ribbons put together and signs to direct folks to the right places.  I am really trying as hard as I can to make sure everything is exactly how my daughter wants it.  I am going to be there for her, even if I have to fill up the hot tub with my own hot tears.

 

 

Posted in Coping with the Death of a Child, Death, Family, Marraige | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

With a little help from our friends. . .

Posted on October 25, 2011 by pathfinder

There is a wedding this weekend.  Our daughter and her fiance are getting married on Saturday.  There will be about 125 people in attendance.   We are hoping for good weather.  The forecast says it might be a little on the cool side.  The trees have certainly put on their best wedding attire.  It has been a gorgeous Fall thus far in the mountains of North Carolina.

We have some good friends that live in Longview Texas now.  They moved some years ago from the verdant green mountains of North Carolina to live closer to other family members.  The man, I will call Chuck and the wife Ellen. They are a retired couple with grown children of their own.

Chuck volunteered to teach our son about computers years ago.   I have tried to remember how old our son was at the time, but for the life of me I can’t remember.   Every week, Chuck and Ellen would host us for an hour or so at their house.  Our son and Chuck would go to the computer room and there learn about HTML codes and Linux.  Ellen his wife all-the-while would be baking fabulous chocolate chip cookies for the college group that would meet at at our church student center that night. I got to have a preview of the cookies served hot along with a frothy cappuccino.   On top of her baking expertise Ellen is also an extremely accomplished seamstress.  So, while enjoying her cookie, my daughter would be scouring the bridal magazines that Ellen had.

Our daughter has had wedding plans for years thanks to Ellen and Chuck.

I don’t how many wedding dresses Ellen has made.  She is meticulous in her craft and motivated by her love by the brides she serves.   Her husband Chuck wrote to tell us after our son died, how much he loved us and especially our son, who he viewed as his own.  I have learned a lot about service from those two people.   Their gifts to our family have been  greatly appreciated.

When the ring showed up on my daughter’s hand along with ear-to-ear grins from the happy couple I knew the plans were ticking away in my daughter’s head.  There is a picture taken in my son’s apartment with the  engaged couple in the foreground and my son’s face photo-bombing in the background.  It says it all. So now  the time had come for wedding plans.

I have explained before that our daughter began job application in November/December of 2010, expecting  with the job market being what it was, that it to take a while to get a nibble.  She was interviewed at the hospital in the city where she now lives and was offered a nice job there.   In January of 2011 she moved into the apartment downstairs from our son.

On the outskirts of the city where she lives there is a bridal district.  Quite a bridal district actually, so on her weekends she began the hunt for the perfect wedding gown.  Systematic and focused, she whittled down her selections to a choice few.  At that point she wanted me to come so the final decision could be made.

We breakfasted at a nearby cafe and waited outside the stores until they opened. This would be the weekend of “the decision”.  It was a cold morning and we stood in the sun in front of windows full of billowing satin and tulle.

The first dress was nice, as was the second.  I watched her body language and posture to see what she felt about herself in the dresses.  Either of those would be nice, but let’s look at the others we decided.   We crossed the street to the next store.    I sat waiting – watching other girls emerge from the dressing rooms frothing in white and off white. Strapless seems to be a big seller these days, but I will tell you, confidentially, there are some strapless dresses that should not be made in some sizes.   Large bosoms cradled like giant soft serve ice cream in a cone appear more like an architectural feat than a wedding, just saying . . .

The first dress she sailed in wearing this time was by far the best yet.  It moved nicely and you could tell by her posture that she felt really nice in it.  The downside for her, “It doesn’t feel like a wedding dress!”.  There was not much crinoline underneath the dress to hold it out and give her that “swishy” feeling.  But this dress was a contender.

On to the next shop.  This one was across the state line.   The building for this shop was a bit newer than those we had visited earlier.   The lighting was good and they had a sort of stage with lots of mirrors and seats for the mother’s and family to lounge in as the audience.

The first dress she had selected at this shop was very pretty.  Thunder, they are all pretty and she being as lovely as she is, tall and thin makes any dress look good.   The second dress . . . I could tell the moment she walked out was “the dress.”  Softly draped and moving like a dream she barely touched the floor as she waltzed  in.  I know she had saved the best for last.  Her decision had been made long ago, but she had to work the process.

Dress now decided on it was time to make other plans.  Where to have the wedding.  Our daughter has always wanted a church wedding and so we looked for a building.

Unfortunately many of the church buildings do not have a center isle.  They use three sets of pews so the aesthetic is not quite right.  First here and then there we looked.  Also, high on priority was where to have the reception.  We could do it in our yard – rent a tent with all the trimmings.   Lots of ideas were being tossed around.

Once I looked at prices for tents and how much work we would have to do to get that all together, that idea became less and less appealing.   A bit frustrated and overwhelmed, I discussed my frustration with some friends while at a luncheon at a nearby country club.   “Why not have it here?” one of my friends suggested.

“We are not members here.” I said.

“You don’t have to be!” she smiled. “Let’s talk to the event coordinator.”  And we did.   Within a week, we had a chapel and a reception venue, thanks to my friend.  Amazing.

Then July came and our son died.  I bleakly asked his sister if she wanted to postpone the wedding.  “No,” she said, “I don’t think he  would want me to.”

My friend who had made all the wonderful wedding suggestions lost a daughter a number of years ago.   Her daughter was her oldest child  in her early twenties. My friend also has a son who is now married and lives in house down the hill from their own.  As she had with the  joy of the wedding she now came to my aid  with this tragedy.  I know it was painful for her to revisit her own grief, but she came anyway.

My husband is struggling with what to say at the reception.  His heart is so full and he is such a tender man.   Men are at disadvantage with emotional issues.  We don’t give them the space they need at times to work through all the issues they must deal with.  He has more support from the women he works with than from the men concerning our son’s death.  I don’t know how to remedy this for him and other men who are experiencing grief.  But we will all be operating at an emotional disadvantage.

I am working on my own strategy for how to be present for this auspicious occasion.  I have to say again, and just get it out there and off my chest  that there was a time back in the year 2000 that I did not know if my daughter would live to see this day.   There was also a time, before the year 2000 when our son was in his Marilyn Manson phase that I thought if our daughter ever married her brother would dress in black and be a bridesmaid!  I may use that image to keep the tears at bay.

The fact that he will not be in the wedding party holds true for this weekend and all weekends to come.  We can’t change that.  And that really sucks.

Those attending this wedding deserve a big thank you.  They know we are still grieving, and they are coming to celebrate with our daughter and her groom and to support all of us with their love.  It is an amazing gift.    The bride will be beautiful, the groom – handsome.  The young people will be giddy and ready for a party.  I have overheard the young teenage girls at church expressing their excitement that they will be attending the wedding.  Wedding presents are appearing.  There is a celebration at hand.

Do you believe in a love at first sight?  Yes, I’m certain that it happens all the time. We will get by with a little help from our friends (and family).  We will celebrate and begin a new part of our life.  Here is to the bride and groom. May your life be full of friends.

 

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The Philosophy of Life

Posted on October 24, 2011 by pathfinder

My son received his PhD posthumously.  He studied Philosophy.  More than one adult rolled their eyes and looked at us with sympathy when he was an undergraduate.  “What will he do with that degree?” they asked as politely as possible.   They brought themselves up short  just before adding “that and $2.50 will buy you a cup of coffee.” (in our son’s case – tea).

Our daughter received two degrees, one in English and the other in Travel and Tourism.  Her brother used to pick on her for the latter.  “How can you have a degree in Travel and Tourism? What is THAT?”   Well the fact is that that  and $2.50 will get you a cup of coffee and a donut because you get an employee’s discount at the resort for which she worked for a couple of years.  Now she is an administrative assistant in a hospital.

My children are individuals with a focus as individual as they are, yet there are shared traits.  One of the happiest is our sense of humor.  We as a family find, for the most part, the same things to be funny.  We are a family who likes puzzles, from actual jig-saw puzzles, to word puzzles to taking apart an intricate machine and putting it back together again in working order better than the original.  We are a family that will learn to do whatever interests them, by whatever means, and do so by reading every possible book and bit of information and ferreting out the minute details.  We are masters of minutia.

We are loyal to our friends, and make deep commitments in our relationships.  We are fiercely loyal to each other and somewhat selfish about each others time when we are together.  We can be outspoken when we feel that we are correct and there is a wrong that should be righted.

Perhaps we are obnoxious.

Growing up with my husband and children was, I assume, like it was for most other families.  There were potholes in the road, trees came down and obstructed the path, arguments and disagreements broke out like wild fire and somehow we worked through it, thus far.   We did not repeat our parents mistakes, we came up  new mistakes of our own.   Hindsight has revealed many of our most blatantly bad decisions and foresight is skewed by the mistaken perception that we have the wisdom of age.  Which for the most part is just the fact we are set in our ways.

We are normal folks with a certain subset of attributes similar in many ways to other families who want to be a family.

We are adding a new member this coming weekend.  He was born in Zimbabwe and is now an American Citizen.  He has lived in the States for 12 years.  I think him very smart and very enterprising.  He has his degree in Engineering and has procured a good job, that requires a lot of his time.   He is well educated and precise in his thinking.  He loves our daughter and has embraced us as his family.  I wonder at times how we really appear to him.

As a couple I think he and my daughter will go through all the joy and pain that marriage brings.   For both my daughter and her soon-to-be husband we will be the main family they have here in the states, as grandparents to future children.  My son-in-law‘s mother is in Zimbabwe and as much as I hope that one day their children will meet her, the chances of having a close relationship is physically hindered by distance.

There are cultural differences, and personality differences obviously, and we are trying to figure out each other’s sense of humor.   Time alone, if granted will permit us what we need to come to know each other better.

He has lost family members too.  His father died this year and he returned home to see his mother and remaining family members.   My heart broke for his mother.  She has lost two sons  to death besides my son-in-law moving to the states  and now her husband.   I keep meaning to write her, and incredible as it seems, I don’t know what to say.  Sorry does not seem adequate when I have here her only other son here.  She has a daughter and some nephews that live nearby.   Her grief added to my own is overwhelming.

Philosophy is defined in a number of ways.  As a study of the nature of knowledge and existence, as the pursuit of wisdom by study and moral self-discipline.  We then in some ways are all philosophers of sorts, though most of us tend to give up on the self-discipline part too quickly.

I assume, maybe incorrectly, that everyone struggles with the big WHY.  Why are we here, why is life the way it is?  Why do we live, only to die eventually?  Why do men think the way they do?  Has thought itself changed over the course of human history; are we unique or are we just more of the same?    Shampoo, rinse and repeat?

For better for worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health I am accepting a new family member into my life.   The son who is now gone was wonderful, albeit financially poor but in great health, moral fiber and ideals.  His footprints are all over my life.   I am a emotionally shy of letting this new person son-in-law  in completely.   The pain of the recent loss has made me tender and hesitant, though I feel protective towards him already in ways that surprise me.

I cling tightly to my daughter, feeling overly protective and am easily outraged by any perceived injustice towards her.   Hyper-emotional at times, I know that we have been scraped raw and perception is skewed.  And by the way, don’t pick on my husband either – just to let you know.

The days I spend in tears frighten me sometimes.   I worry that I will stay there and not be able to come back up for air.  I feel the need to be here for my family and be present in the world to live out who I am.  Sometimes I feel so physically heavy, weighed down and immobile.  It is a challenge to get things done and focus sometimes.   Then there are the other days, when I see myself behaving in ways that seem more normal for how I have been in the past.  I try not to punish myself for those days, when I my heart is not so heavy.

There are files downstairs with papers that my son has read and papers that he has written.  They are academic papers, but they cannot escape having parts of his personality punctuating them.  I have glanced through them, but I do not want to stain them with tears right now, besides it makes it difficult to read.

Our daughter has been published in “Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul.”  She also composes music.   I have enjoyed watching my children grow up and become the adults they are. They are amazing and talented in surprising ways.

I was looking forward to seeing what my son would do with his education.  He made a fine teacher.

With all this being said, I must conclude that both of my children have taught me things I never thought I would want to learn.  What is at my core in terms of my thinking has been shaped and molded by them as we interacted and exchanged ideas, formulated goals and wrestled with our disagreements.  I long for my son’s voice.   I ache to have that time with him.   There is no one to replace that in my life, and I would not have it replaced if it could be.

I feel diminished by his passing.  I think that I am less that I used to be.   Sometimes I feel as thin as a shadow, and it makes me angry because I used to advocate that people be cautious about those things and people with which they identified so closely.

Yet I do identify with my children.  My daughter is like a physical part of me as was my son.   He is so close in my mind at times that I sometimes feel he is really with me.  My daughter is always just a phone call away, as my son used to be and now left unchecked I could keep my daughter on the phone all day if she would let me, just to hear her breath.  While they are here in the world with us, we take them for granted, we cannot imagine it otherwise.  It is impossible to think otherwise.

I am sure there are Philosophers out there who have read and published papers explaining all this with formulae and figures.   Those answers do not address the issues of the heart.  Not his mother’s heart.  But thanks anyway for trying.  I know my son enjoyed all the academic argument and puzzles – one thing  about which there was no question however,( albeit as confusing as any other thought of man) my son loved and is loved.   That and $2.50 will buy you peace and a cup of coffee.

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Sorrow for Eastern Turkey

Posted on October 23, 2011 by pathfinder

I wanted to write today, but I have been reading the news of the tragedy  from the earthquake that has claimed so many lives in Turkey. The sun is shining on a lovely day here, and there in Turkey, families have been  torn apart.  My heart breaks for them and for the horrific grief and pain of the days to come as they sort through the rubble of their lives.

I am so sorry for their pain and grief and loss.

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Ashes to ashes and dogs to dogs

Posted on October 22, 2011 by pathfinder

Asa, Sadie, Sky and Ebby

I like dogs.  Growing up we had dogs.  Cats were nice when they want to be, but my mother disliked them.  If she visited a house where cats lived she would never eat any food prepared there for fear of cat hair.  After all cats were sneaky and got on the countertops.  In West Virginia where I lived until I was 10 years old, there were ferrule cats that lurked around our property.  My grandmother and grandfather lived next door.  My grandmother liked cats, had cats and probably kept them partly to spite my mother.   But that is enough about cats.

We had dogs while I was growing up.  When we moved to North Carolina I received a pup that I named Tinkerbell.  She was a small mixed breed, dark with expressive brown eyebrows.  She was my best friend.

Kaycee and her boy

When we started our family and moved to the mountains of North Carolina, the first thing on our agenda after buying a house was to find a dog for our children.  We found a wonderful Golden Retriever Female we named Kaycee.   She was a retriever in every sense of the word, bringing us front door welcome mats from neighboring houses, shoes, and once a plastic bag with two cans of motor oil.   We would leave her booty out by the mailbox for our neighbors to claim.  When she brought the oil my husband walked down to find someone who had the hood of their car up.

We added to our family of pets, two pomeranians a few years apart, that became in house dogs. When Kaycee died we decided there was not a way to replace her.  We had become accustomed to having indoor dogs.

When our son was finishing up college and preparing to move to Colorado he decided he wanted a dog to go with him.  He chose a border collie.  His name was Asa.

Asa was a few months old when our son took him in.  A beautiful, but intense dog.  It took the dog a while to get used to the house and the idea of riding in a car.

Asa became proficient with the frisbee and loved accompanying our son on the thing he loved to do most, hike.

Our son took the dog with him to Colorado and traveled with him extensively.  Asa flew a number of times with our son when he came back home for a visit.

Ebby

Ebby with her new haircut

When the older of our pomeranians died we thought it best to wait and decide if we wanted another dog.  The younger of our Poms – Ebby seemed to be functioning very well, though I must admit we spoiled her pretty badly.

“You need to get another dog.” our son announced one day. “one that is not defective!”  (he had never openly liked the older dog Cocoa, who had recently passed.I admit she  had an attitude and was very aloof).

“You need a miniature Australian Shepherd” he announced.  The idea of an Australian Shepherd had been mentioned before.  Our son had met one once that was the companion of a climbing buddy.  The actual strategy that our son was trying to employ was one that had worked for him many times before.  The strategy was to get us to get something that he thought he might want or use eventually.

It was a strategy of it being sort of a test ground where he would not be fully committed but could still have access if he so desired.

On a trip to a neighboring city we saw a pet shop with a sign that said “puppies, puppies, puppies.”   The car turned in to the parking lot without me even realizing it.  There were puppies of every breed in that place.  There near the back of the store  were 3 miniature Australian Shepherd puppies.  Two females and a male.  The females were black and tan, the male a blue merl.

At home that night our son launched into his sales pitch to his dad.

“We don’t need another dog.” my husband insisted.

“You ought to see this dog, dad,” our son wheedled.

Our son went back to school that week and called me every day.  “Have you been back to look at that dog?”

“No,” I parroted my husband, “we don’t need another dog.”

Two weeks later our son back in town, hit the door with one question. “Have you been back to take a look at that dog.”

“It is probably gone by now.” I said.

“You could call and find out.” he said.

Sky when he was not in trouble

Why and how exactly it all took place, I’m not sure.  A few hours later I was in the back seat, our son driving, my husband in the passenger seat and in my lap was a little blue merl Australian Shepherd.   “We will name him Sky.” I announced and my son and husband agreed.

Around Thanksgiving last year my husband came home from work and told me that someone out in the country had a female Border Collie that was “attacking” their cows.   “Do you think Asa would like a companion?” my husband asked.

Our son had been on the lookout for another dog as a companion for Asa.  Our son was in town again so we went out to look.  She was a skinny wriggling traditionally marked border collie, chained to a wire mesh cage with a rug flung over the top.  Our son had to go out of town on a school related trip and we were keeping Asa.

“I think I might want that dog.” our son told me before he left.

The weather forecast was calling for snow.  I couldn’t stand the thought of the dog out there chained to that cage.  “I’m gonna go get her.” I told my husband.

He laughed, “I knew you would.”

Sadie came into our life.  Less than a year old she is the fastest dog our family as ever seen.  She prefers affection to food.

Our son got to live with her for 8 months before he died.

Sadie and Asa live with our daughter now and both have adapted well.  They live in the same house they lived in with him and our daughter is great with them.  She is a very disciplined person and routine is something the dogs crave.

Asa makes me feel the saddest of all.  I have not let him into the room where our son’s things are stored right now.   I do not want to see him sniff and search.   Asa is an incredibly smart dog.  Our son taught him how to sneeze on command.   Of the two border collies is the most obsessive and highly strung.   Sadie has settled in to life with our daughter and is finally gaining a little weight.

I wish I could adapt as well as the dogs have.

Sky

Sky is a clown.   If it were not for my son, Sky would not be living with us.  I am training him to do a few things, because our son would expect it of me.  Sky can roll over and bow, speak with an “inside voice” and “go around.”  He thinks he is an air dog when it comes to frisbee and he wishes those darn squirrels would stay on the ground just a little longer so he could taste their fluffy tails.

Our son had no wife and children.  He was dating again, as I have mentioned in previous writings.  I cannot imagine how it must be to loose a child and have their family’s grief to deal with.   Perhaps it is a blessing at times.   I do not know.  That is not my experience and I won’t pretend to understand or project how that must be.

I do understand how death can destroy marriages, and wrench families apart.  It is so hard to live with the constant reminders.

I find it hard to live inside my own head sometimes.  When I wake at night – even now, the first thought in my head is that our son is gone.  It annoys me sometimes, that I cannot escape those thoughts for long.  But I do sleep, that has not been disrupted since the week after his passing.

Our dogs sleep in their kennels in our room.  Our pomeranian Ebby snores and Sky thump, thumps, scratching his collar.  I hear them sigh and root around to get more comfortable.  They are a comfort to us.

When the border collies come home there is a free-for-all in our den.  Sadie and Sky play like long lost cousins.   It lightens things up for all of us.  We can watch them and enjoy their boundless energy and joy of just being.

Asa comes to me and puts his head on my knees and enjoys a good ear scratch.  He is getting older and more stiff.   I hate to think about the day when Asa and Ebby are gone, and it will come whether I am here to witness it or not.

I heard someone say concerning the death of a family pet that it was a good lesson for the children.  I cannot tell you how outrageous that sounded to me.   A good lesson?  If that be the case then spare me  any more lessons.   I have learned too well that there is not one gift you are ever privileged to receive that you can really keep.  If that be the lesson then for me then the point is well taken.

When my ashes have been put into a container then I will have no say in any of these matters any more.  I told my husband to take them to one of the National Parks and spread them (illegally).  But I have changed my mind.  If our son’s ashes are still here  just mix  us up together and put them where ever you will.  Maybe up there on the hill where Kaycee and Cocoa are buried.  I know I will be in good company there.

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Holidays

Posted on October 21, 2011 by pathfinder

The stores are filling up with decorations for Christmas.  Yesterday I shopped at one of the craft and hobby store picking up little glass holders for votive candles.  I walked into a crush of Halloween and Fall decorations. Marked for quick sale, brash pumpkin orange and glittering golds were everywhere.   Scarecrows fit for propping up against your mailbox with a hay bail or corn shock waved at me as I passed by.  Where they ended Christmas began.   Garlands abounded with holly berries and glittering dance ball like globes of red and silver.  No wonder we feel like the years is passing too quickly!  We are rushed into each season by the need of retailers to make their bottom line.

The store was busy.   Everywhere creative crafters browsed.  Some were making last minute preparations for Halloween decoration.  I picked up some Christmas garland for my mantle in the living room.   It dawned on me that as the Christmas Holiday unfolds, I might feel less than excited about decorating so I might as well strike while the iron was hot.

The 4th of July will never be the same for our family.  Not that we were ever the ones to hang flags or put off fireworks. There is a car show every year about that time that a well respected car club sponsors that my husband likes to attend. Sometimes family comes to visit, to escape the heat of the coastal plain and places further South.  We don’t bar-b-que or invite folks over for a picnic.  Our family has always been one for small private celebration of all the holidays.  We are selfish that way.

The town in which we live used to sponsor a fireworks show right in the middle of town on the front steps of the courthouse.  They would close main street and reroute the traffic.  People would come with lawn chairs and there was music and some street vendors.   When it finally got dark the fireworks would begin.  Often we took our chairs and sat in a church parking lot off to the side.   Apparently, rumor has it that burn marks were found on the courthouse roof, so the fireworks have been moved to a rock quarry near town.  We went last year to see how it would go.  Maybe if you had been at the rock quarry gates looking up it would have been spectacular, but at the distance from which we had to view it, it was disappointing to say the least.

I forgot that they were doing that again this year.  The 4th was on a Monday this year.   I don’t remember when we went to the funeral home to make arrangements for our son.  It might have been on the 4th of July.   Since he was an organ donor it took awhile for his body to arrive for preparation.   I don’t remember if it was ever talked about specifically or not, but since our son had no problem with the fact that his dad and I prefer to be cremated we decided to have his body cremated too.  Our daughter came with us.  We picked out the simplest of oak boxes to house his ashes.   It sits now on the mantle in our den.  His diploma for his PhD, his tea cup complete with tea stain and his journal are with it.   I am glad that it is so close by.

My husband was at the car show when he got the call from the park ranger concerning our son.  Later my husband told me the ranger was in tears when he told him that there had been an accident and that it was “bad.”  My husbands brother and sister-in-law were with him at the show and they raced in horrible traffic to the hospital to meet the incoming helicopter med flight.   At one point someone stopped too quickly and my husband had to brake suddenly and pull the car out of gear to complete a stop without crashing.   Later his brother would compliment him on the maneuver.

I was at home having just completed a painting.  I had chosen to use a dark palette.  The painting is of dark clouds and two people walking away down a hill towards light.   I like to put a tall thin figure in my paintings.  I usually base them on my son.  This time I included a figure beside him, I had decided to base it on me and since I was thinking about complimentary colors I put myself in my lime green shirt I like to hike in.   When the call came I was on the phone with my sister.  I don’t remember how I got ready.  I do remember driving 80 and 85 mph towards the hospital an hour away.  I struggle with that road sometimes now.  If I ever get pulled for speeding I may ask the officer where they were that July 2nd when I wanted them to pull me and rescue me from my driving.

Our daughter and her fiance were on their way driving through Kentucky, Tennessee planning to stop and visit with some friends that day, have a cookout and camp out.   We called our daughter’s fiance first, but she was soon on the phone and all their plans were quickly scattered to the winds as they plotted a direct route the hospital.

That is how we started our 4th of July Holiday.  For others however, the 4th of July weekend of 2011 marks particularly poignant independence.  For one it meant no more oxygen and tubes keeping him alive.  He walked out of the hospital ten days after receiving our son’s heart.  To two individuals  it meant the end of dialysis with one of the two being a perfect match with no fear of rejection for our son’s kidney.  One mother received her own son back, healthy.  Children got their mom’s and dad’s back breathing freely, functioning well enough to be about daily tasks. Liver disease, pancreatitis, lung disease, heart disease , kidney disease had held these people prisoner and they were set free.  We knew that there were recipients waiting when we signed all the papers for the donation.  It was later that we found out about those who had received corneas, I hope they find a place to watch the fireworks next year.  I sincerely hope they have a grateful Thanksgiving, a Merry Christmas with all the trimmings.

My husband gave me a ring the other morning.  Out of the blue he produced a little box tied up with purple bow.  He handed the box down to our dog, a clown-like miniature Australian Shepherd.  Our dog took the box by the bow and trotted to the couch to chew on it.  “Give it to your momma.” my husband said.   The dog looked disappointed when I retrieved it from him.  Inside was the ring that matches a necklace and earrings my husband gave me for Christmas this past year.  My daughter took great pictures this past year during our Christmas tradition.  Thankfully she took a lot of her brother who happened to be sitting beside me at the hearth.   There is a picture of my son ,his chin on my shoulder looking at the jewelry when I opened the box.  Our son loved how our family loved each other.

Maybe that is the tradition we will start.  Random gifts given when you feel the need to give.  Words of love spoken just because they well up in you and need to be spoken.  Just because you never know what the day may hold you may want to keep the Christmas tree up all year.   Every day is holy in its own right.   Every day new life enters the world while another life exits.  Some days we mark with ornaments and fireworks, some we mark with tears.

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