which end is up

Buy the ticket and take the ride!

2011-12-28T08:00:00.000-08:00

It seems like forever and a day that I have been able to write what's in my heart. I have hesitated because I thought what was heavy in my heart may hurt those around me. Well, I've reached a point where I can no longer hide what's in my heart.
It has been 4 years, 4 months, and 1 day since my life was forever changed and I became a widow and a single mom. A lot has happened in those 4 years which have enabled me to grow and discover more about who I am. There have been more tears than I care to remember and more fears vanquished by faith, prayers and the love and support of those around me. I have achieved tremendous accomplishments in my career and with my children, and for those that were there to share these with me, I truly thank you.
Through it all I have never once felt pity for myself, but have felt the sting of loneliness. I have felt the utter defeat of wanting to share the most important accomplishment of my life with the one I love and know that he isn't there. Well, that time has come to an end.
There's someone special in my life and it is an amazing feeling. He makes me laugh, smile, and feel loved. It's a feeling I wasn't expecting to ever find again. I feel so giddy and giggly all the time that it's amazing I am able to string together a coherent thought or sentence. I still have a ton of fears and hesitations but I am trying to live in the moment and enjoy every giggle, smile, and laugh that comes my way because of this relationship.
Who knows where it may lead, but for once I don't see the road ahead of me filled with boulders and obstacles trying to wear me down. You know me, I love a good adventure so as he says, "Let's buy the ticket and take the ride!"

Be Still

2011-11-27T21:03:00.000-08:00

Be still and drink in all that is around you,
meandering streams with snow and ice hugging the banks
tall grasses still wearing their fall colors of gold and amber
scrub and cheat grasses golden in color topped with a snowy cap
Be still and listen to the silence of the mountains,
purple and blue in the cool morning air
majestic and unyielding
longing to shout for all to hear
Be still and ponder what's in your heart,
exposed and tender showing every emotion
raw and true yearning for freedom
Be still and let it all go,
No more chains of guilt
cast off the cloak of sadness
release all doubts
Be still and enjoy all that I have given you.

Oregon Adventures Part 2

2011-08-28T20:35:00.000-07:00

Within 20 minutes of being at the Harper's house, Eva and Megan were inseparable. Their first adventure was catching as many banana slugs as they could. Those are they ugliest buggers I've ever seen. Long, fat, brown, and slimy with their little antennae poking every which way, it really was gross. Megan and Eva spent every waking and sleeping moment together exploring trails, picking thimble berries, hot tubbing, canoeing, and giggling. Lots and Lots of giggling!

The kids had so much fun at the river that we spent most afternoons hanging out there and cooling off.
My girls learned how to canoe and float the chute and how to catch crawdads.

When we weren't on the river we were busy down at the coast exploring. Our first day on the coast we went to the Newport Aquarium. It was a very hands on experience and the touch pools proved to be the favorite.

The piranha tank was a close second!
After the aquarium we took the kids down to the waterfront and on the Discovery Boat tour. It was quite the experience! The water was very choppy and the ride a tad rough! Miranda and Eva got seasick and were queasy for quite sometime. Eva really didn't understand that you had to move with the waves and wouldn't hold on. Needless to say, she knocked me over and as I went tumbling, my beer splashed all over the guy next to me and soaked his camera. Luckily nothing was damaged, but he did avoid us the rest of the boat ride! On the boat ride the kids got to set crab pots and catch dungeness crab, collect plankton and look at it under the microscope, as well as see whales and experience the wretched stench that is whale breath. I enjoyed hanging out with my best friend and watching our kids build many memories together.

The captain even let Eva drive the boat!

Our day was spectacular and we ended it by having lunch on the waterfront and dragging 11 exhausted kids back to the house. Stacey and I enjoyed a nice pitcher of margaritas and prepared to do it all over again in the morning!

More adventures to come!

Oregon Adventures Part 1

2011-08-15T21:03:00.000-07:00

It all began while in the midst of planning a Disney vacation. I suddenly had a wild hair to do a road trip with just me and my girls. I haven't been on a road trip since I was in college and we'd take of for California, and Colorado with the soccer team or head to Texas or Montana. Heck we even drove to Winnemucca Nevada one night just for the heck of it. So it has been a long time and I would be the only driver. I felt a bit trepidatious, but decided to do it anyway.
Oregon had everything we were looking for: Good friends to visit, adventure, beautiful scenery, and of course, the ocean, which my girls had never seen. It seemed perfect and I could feel the excitement begin to build. With my guidebook in hand, the girls and I began to plan our first ever roadtrip vacation!
     The inital drive was filled with excitement and laughter as we headed north and into the unknown. Driving like a snail, (yep way too many tickets), I decided to relax and not worry about how long it was taking us. The girls were entertained and busy with new cameras in hand taking pictures of everything. I think Eva has a picture of every cow from here to Bend, and boy there were a lot of them.
    After brief stops in Twin Falls and Boise, we continued to drive until we reached Burns Oregon. Little did I know that the speed limit signs were merely a "speed suggestion". Imagine my dismay when I was putting along at 55 and horse trailers and RV's driven by blue hairs went flying by me! The girls were a little put out by my slow and methodical pace. Needless to say, we made it to Burns without any pullover incidents.   As we pulled into the Best Western and procurred a room, the nice desk clerk took pity on me and upgraded me to a suite for no additional fees. It seems that a single mom traveling with 4 children looks a little haggard and wild eyed by the end of a 12 hour day on the road.
     Our second day of travel led us to Bend where I learned that it is illegal to pump your own gas in Oregon! The poor gas station attendants thought I was a nut job when I wouldn't relinquish the gas hose. They were so kind to explain that it was there job and I could climb back in my vehicle and wait patiently. Seeing the look of bewilderment upon my face, they produced suckers for the kids and took their sweet time filling my gas tank. We spent a few hours in Bend and went to the High Desert Museum which I'm beginning to wonder if it wasn't just a taxidermist's cruel joke. All of the animals including the River otters were "sleeping." I expected that from the nocturnal raptors and the procupine and such, but come on, everything. Needless to say the gift shop was a huge highlight and we continued on our way.
     Our next stop was in Sisters. This was a very appropriate stop since the girls were getting a bit rambunctious and rude with each other. I really was laughing when they couldn't figure out why I was taking a picture under a sign. After shaking my head and pointing up to the sign, they finally got it and were happy to oblige their poor mother.
      Back in the car everyone tumbled, and we headed over the Cascade Mountains. This was an incredible experience for me as well as the girls. The trees were absolutely amazing. I have never seen so many tall, skinny trees. We stopped several times to take in the lushness of the forest and to gaze out over the amazing landscape. As we headed down into the Willamette Valley the trees began to take on a deeper hue og green as well as a cloak of velvet moss. Ferns grew everywhere and thimbleberry bushes seemed to be in every nook and cranny. I had to stop just to feel the different textures, listen to the sounds of the forests, and drink in the amazing smell.

We reached our destination in Alsea and met up with my long time friend and that's when our adventures truly began.

Crossroads

2011-07-22T21:25:00.000-07:00

It has been several months since I have written anything. I've come to a crossroads of sorts in my life and have been pondering which direction it is taking me. I do know that there are many things I need to say, but haven't quite found the words for them yet. Bear with me, I am a work in progress after all.
It seems like the words that I need to release are still lodged deep within my heart. I'm not sure if I am ready to utter them and actually see them in print. So many emotions still seem to catch me off guard on a daily basis. I feel stronger and more independent as each day passes, but there are those days when I am weak and feeling very lonely and sorry for myself. I do believe that everything happens for a reason and that God does have a plan. My job is to have patience, something I've struggled with for years.
So for now I am going to take a break from the heavy stuff and write about much lighter happier topics. The girls and I are off on a roadtrip adventure to the Oregon Coast. I'm sure that will give me plenty to write about!

Fresh Paint

2011-04-23T21:24:00.000-07:00

It's amazing to me how a change in paint can brighten a home and lift ones spirits. About 6 or so years ago, I painted the girls' bedrooms in colors that I thought would be bright, happy colors. Blues in one room and purples in the other. About the same time, our life took a drastic turn for the worse and our home lost all happiness and became filled with worry, sadness and illness. A heavy darkness settled over us like a looming black cloud ready to burst. When that cloud did burst and the rain washed away the illness, sadness, and worry our house was once again light and in a different place. Sadness and grief permeated the air and sometimes overtook the brightness trying to shine through.
A few days ago, I decided that the colors in the house were too dark and heavy and it was feeling oppressive again. I grabbed the girls and off to Home Depot we went to look at paint colors. We came home with 6 cans of paint and a whole lot of ambition and excitement. First we painted the bathroom a light "Water Sprout" green color and it just seemed to lighten the entire house. The girls would go in and just stare and the walls. Eva said that it was a happy color and the others were quick to agree. With one success under our belts, we decided to tackle Emma and Eva's room. Their colors of choice ended up being Bicycle Yellow and Ripened Tomato Red. The red wall proved to be a challenge, but when it was all said and done, I loved the look and so did they. Emma gave me a hug and said, "This room makes me feel happy now." So, feeling all successful and ambitious, we embarked on Analisa and Miranda's room. At this point, my hands were achy and all blistered up and I had carpet burns on my knees from painting the trim, but I was determined to get it finished. They chose Spring Green, and Sugared Plum (purple) with Robin's Egg blue trim. This room went much faster and when it was finished the girls were completely pleased. "It's so light and not dark in here anymore." Miranda told me.

Overall everyone is a lot happier and content with their space. It was a healing step that we needed to take and I believe it lightened the burden and washed away some of that sadness and grief that has been lingering like stinky cheese. It's not an easy thing to take something that holds both good and bad memories and change it on a whim, however I think that was exactly what we needed.

City Lights

2011-01-16T21:06:00.000-08:00

Being a small town girl, I have always been amazed at city lights. Their multi-colored glowing and blinking simply mesmerizing to me. The neon colors often seemed to hint at something mysterious and undiscovered by me. City lights were very few and far between when I was growing up. We didn't travel much and getting my dad to a city was almost unheard of.  Living in the city now, the lights often get ignored and taken for granted.
     The first time I drove down Parley's Canyon at night, the view of the Salt Lake Valley took my breath away and I was amazed at how awesome the sight before me was. Extending as far south as point of the mountain, and as far North as Antelope Island. The westward expanse lit up the Great Salt Lake, topped off by Kennecott. The promise of excitement and many new adventures stretched out before me, beckoning me into the unknown. I was eighteen and ready to take on whatever came my way.
    As the years have passed, the lights have increased dramatically from when I first moved here. When I am looking down on the city the lights never seem to end.  Still mesmerizing and mysterious, with a sense of caution thrown in. Now I am often saddened by the haze that fills the valley, marring the beautiful view of cityscape meeting mountains and lake.  The glitter that once caught my gaze, dulled by the pollution.
    I have always seen the city from the East to the West or from the South looking North. Tonight I got to experience the city from the West. My first glimpse of the lights once again leaving me captivated. Sparkling and twinkling with a glistening sheen of rain adorning them, the lights once again held my attention.  The base of the Wasatch Mountains dressed in soft golden hues, the gentle spread of lights outlining the majestic mountains reminding me of the beauty that is often overlooked.
     The drive into the city reminded me of the first day I set eyes on the Salt Lake Valley. The uncertainty, the anticipation, and the excitement that I felt about being in a new place came rushing back. I was so scared of the city, but couldn't wait to explore it and make it my home.
      I feel the same way tonight, as I did 22 years ago. Even though I am not new to the city, so many things have changed. I am on a new journey full of hope, promise, and adventure. The lights reminding me that there is so much to explore and learn. The wonder of the lights reminding me that often times that our vision is clouded and dulled by all the pollution in our lives. It's time to cast off the shroud of dullness, and let the lights shine as brightly as they were meant to.

Birthday Blues

2010-12-06T20:43:00.000-08:00

Today we hit a milestone. Analisa turned 13. On the day she was born she changed our lives forever. From the moment she entered this world, she had her dad wrapped around her little finger. He went everywhere with her in the hospital and was ready to lynch anyone who made her cry. I remember him sitting in the hospital chair holding her for hours, just as still as he could be. At a whopping 5 lbs 3 oz, he was afraid he might break her if he moved.
     She was never far from his side. He worked nights so that he could be with her during the day while I was working. Jose would call me at 10, 12, and 2, to give me updates on what cute things she had been doing all day long. I think my favorite phone call was when he asked how to get Desitin out of her hair. She was about 15 months old and had taken the tub of desitin and covered herself and her little sister in "lotion".  What a mess that was to clean up! She had greasy hair for days! They forged a special bond during those days together and that never changed. Many nights I'd wake up to find her curled up on his lap watching movies at 2 a.m. or come home to a tea party attended by all the stuffed animals and Analisa wearing my pearls. She was his little monkey and that Daddy daughter bond was so very special.
     Today was met with many mixed emotions. Analisa has grown into an amazing young lady who is kind, compassionate, and loving. She is very talented and has big plans for her life. I am so proud of who she is and who she is becoming. I know that Jose would be very proud of her as well. My heart is so sad that he is not here to share the wonderfulness that is his daughter. I strive everyday to let her know how much her Dad loved her and cared for her. It was with a heavy heart that I sent her to bed tonight in tears, after she cried for 30 minutes because she misses her dad and wanted him to be here for her birthday. It was the first time in a long time that she let me hold her while she cried.
     I wish I could remove all the pain and hurt and make it all better. I pray that her faith is strong enough to provide her with comfort and understanding so that she will not get mired in the anguish and will continue to grow and flourish. The task before me is daunting, but I will do anything to make sure Analisa knows how much she is loved by all and how much joy she brought to her Dad while he was with us.

Daily doldrums

2010-11-13T22:28:00.000-08:00

I reach out to hold you only to remember,
Occasionally I set your place at the table,
Colognes still sit on the shelf, gloves sit in the basket,
I rush home to share good news,
Only to find memories instead of you.
The whirring and rushing of the day screeches to a halt
as my heart bleeds and cries once again.
My lover, my friend, my confidant,
I miss you.

Average? I don't think so

2010-10-16T20:54:00.000-07:00

I've never been one who let's others dictate what I should say, do, or think, much less what I can achieve. Whenever anybody ever said that I was too short, or too little to do something, I set out to prove them wrong. I find that the older I get, the more determined that resolve becomes. Some may call it stubborness, I call it one of the finer traits my parents bestowed upon me.
      My cardiologist told me yesterday that I will never hit full recovery from Peripartum Cardiomyopathy and that I need to just accept that. He also said that I could forget about being "the athlete" and accept my limitations. After my exam he said that I should feel good about where I'm at because considering the current health of most average americans, I'm in pretty good shape.
Excuse me? Average is not a term that I embrace or will ever settle for.
I am very fortunate and blessed to be where I am today and it wasn't from settling on being average. When Eva was born 6 years ago and I went into heart failure, the docs totally missed my diagnosis and sent me home without treatment. For 3 years I lived with heart failure and continued to work fulltime, raise 4 children, and be a wife to an ill husband. During this time, my heart continued to fail and my LVEF was at 25% when I finally was diagnosed and recieved treatment. My heart has improved to 43% LVEF in the last 3 years and for that I am very grateful and blessed.    I refuse to say that this is as good as it's going to get.
I will continue to do all that I can to improve and reach full recovery. The docs say that I can't be "the athlete" anymore. I say, "Wanna Bet?" I see this as a whole new challenge to strengthen my body and recapture that comeptitive spirit. I will win this battle and I will make sure my heart is healthy and strong not only for me, but also for my 4 beautiful girls. No longer will I be frustrated by the fatigue, the illnesses, and the PVC's. They are just potholes and speedbumps on my road to recovery. I will be triumphant!

Forever in my Heart

2010-08-23T21:43:00.000-07:00

As I sit here in the dark listening to the crickets, my mind is preoccupied with an unforgettable day three years ago. I was listening to the crickets and the slow steady breathing of my four beautiful daughters. Unable to sleep and terrified of the road ahead of me, I sat on the steps and just listened as the tears ran down my face. You see, earlier in the day, 11:36 to be precise, my life was forever changed. My best friend, my husband, the one who made my heart sing, had taken his own life.
     I waited for the dawn to bring an end to the nightmare that I was caught up in. As the purple hues of morning's first light faded to pink, I knew to ending was in sight. Never again would I hear his voice saying, "I love you," or "I'm proud of you."   Never again would I hear him tell our beautiful girls how much he adored them and wanted only the best for them. Silenced forever was a beautiful soul who had so much to offer.
     These last few years have been an amazing journey. The first year was nothing but pure adrenaline and survival mode to get us through.Stumbling along the way with many hands there to pick us up and guide us in the right direction. Year two was spent getting a handle on all things that had escaped us in year one. Many rocky paths still in our way, but again, kind hands and gentle hearts to lift us up when we needed it the most.
     My girls posess an inner strength that amazes me on a daily basis. Their compassion and caring runs deeper than any well could ever go. I am so blessed that they have faith and conviction in the Lord to cling to when they are having a difficult time. They resemble their father in many ways. Not only in looks, but with strength, honesty, humor, and loyalty. They also have his wonderful sense of arguing every little issue and of quoting movies verbatim!
     Not a day goes by that Jose is not on our minds, in our hearts, and in our prayers.  I know we will never truly understand how much pain he was in or why he choose to take his own life, but I do know how incredibly he loved those that mattered the most to him.
     As we begin our third year without Jose, I know things will change even more. Change is a part of living, and that we must do. My girls deserve to claim what is left of their childhood and leave the worries to the grown-ups in their lives. No added conflicts, no worrisome burdens should they bear. I am very lucky to be blessed with an amazing support system of family, church family, and friends to help me with my girls and to do life with.
My Jose may not be here with us physically, but I know he is watching over us from a much better place and that one day, we will be with him again. Until then, my heart with forever be missing a piece.
In Loving Memory, Jose Luciano Uribe September 22, 1975-August 23, 2007

Endless Possibilities

2010-07-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

No longer mired in complete hopelessness,
chains of grief and sadness slowly releasing their tenacious grip.
Weights of despair crumbling beneath the relentless light trying to get in.
A gentle buzz becoming a low hum, gradually swelling into waves of energy
crashing over me.
My heart still crushed, beginning to heal,
My soul once dormant, starting to feel.
A love once vibrant and loud,
now dim and hushed.
To honor is to remember, to love is to live,
My life forever changed,
My steps once halted, are shaky and unsure.
A new life unfolding like a crisp clean map.
trails to be marked, adventures to be had.
Searching for happiness, hoping for love,
endless possibilities just waiting to be discovered.

Interview with a Stranger

2010-06-26T21:03:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week I received a call from a student from the University of Utah. It seems that there is a group of communications students who are working on a project involving the grieving process. They are working in conjunction with The Sharing Place (http://www.thesharingplace.org/) to complete this project. I agreed to a family interview about grief.
The whole process started off badly. On Thursday, the original date of the interview, Miranda had an allergic reaction to a vaccination and I had to cancel. I re-scheduled over the phone with another student. He was driving and was quite lost, so I gave him directions to his destination and told him that I would see him on Saturday at 6 p.m. Thirty minutes before our scheduled appointment he called to let me know that he would be late. An hour later he hits my mailbox and our interview begins.
I must say that he was very personable and made a great connection with Emma right away. Emma isn't one to get cozy with strangers right away. She's generally a bit standoffish and watches what is going on before making herself available. Through out the course of the interview she continued to be the most outspoken and forthcoming with her thoughts and feelings. I think my jaw is severely bruised from hitting the floor so many times. She shared things that I wasn't even aware of and described her feelings and anger without batting an eye. The other girls were quite mute for most of the interview. Emma even brought out some of Jose's things and shared her memories and why those artifacts were so important to her. The one thing that keeps coming back to me, and Emma said it many times, was to let people know how your feeling and to get your anger out. I find this very interesting because she has been my most resistant child when it came to approaching the grief process.
My other girls I thought were handling the whole process much better. However that doesn't seem to be the case. Analisa was very quiet and would use "I don't know" for many questions. Miranda left the room in tears, and Eva, well Eva is 6 and was 3 when her dad died and has a hard time with memories. She remembers mainly sickness and sadness, so for her, the process is a bit different and her understanding of death is quite different as well.
Everyone was asked to describe grief in one word. I found it interesting the words they chose; "darkness", "sadness", "scaredness", and "hardness". I've often wondered what they were feeling and not sharing and those four words speak volumes for me. A simple word, yet one utterance and I now have a better understanding of the four precious lives that I'm in charge of. It was almost overwhelming for me to hear exactly where they are in their grieving process, but at the same time, I was relieved because I now have a better idea of what is lies before me. My word was "heaviness". There is a weight upon my shoulders that changes with time. Some days it is light and other days, it feels like it is crushing me.
By the end of the interview, we had made a new friend, shared happy and sad memories, and I had learned a lot about my girls and how they are coping with their grief. The final question posed to all was, "If you had to tell someone what the most important thing about dealing with grief was, what would you tell them?" Each one of them said that it was important to have faith in God, talk with someone you trust, to write and communicate your grief even to the person who has died, and to deal with the anger. I had to blink back tears when they said a few names of people they felt comfortable enough to share their grief with.
Today's interview was such a blessing to me because I learned incredible stuff about my girls and the road they are walking. I was so proud that they are able to share their inner feelings and make themselves vulnerable to help others who may be experiencing something similiar. I feel that some of my heaviness is lighter today because they are each in a good place with their grief at the moment. Our new friend left with Emma close by his side reminding him that it's ok to be sad sometimes and it's ok to be happy too.

Cloud Gazing

2010-05-22T19:53:00.000-07:00

As I sit at the table gazing out at the mountains covered in fresh snow, I am reminded of the uncertainty of our every day. Over the last few months our weather has been quite unpredictable. Rain, snow, and very little sunshine. I have been fascinated with the color of the sky, cloud formations and mountains. Preoccupied with their ever changing state. Each time I look upward it is as if I am seeing it for the very first time. The hues of blue, grey, pink, and orange in the sky never are replicated. The rolling masses of the clouds billowing in gigantic white formations, or dark and heavy with water are constantly changing. The mountains so bold in purple hues capped with stark white spring snow melding into softer blues and greens, seeming to change before my eyes. They have captivated my attention filled with excitement and comfort.
It seems that it was a few months ago that shades of grey seemed to be the over arching theme in the color scheme of my life. I was stuck, stagnating in feelings and emotions that were binding me to the past. Unable to reconcile these feelings, I was unable to live and recognize the inherent beauty before me. The endless possibilities of a life filled with excitement, joy, and contentment was out of my grasp.
A simple breakfast conversation shattered the shades of grey that had me imprisoned. The topic was death and suicide. Not the normal conversation for most 6-12 year olds, but an unpleasant reality in my house. My Emma was asking what made a death a suicide. When I explained to her that people who complete suicide are usually in a place of hopelessness and see no other way beyond their pain, they choose to end their life. Miranda burst into tears and hysterics as she asked me if her dad choose to end his life. With tears streaming down my face I had to explain to her again, that yes it was the last choice he made. As all four girls melted into puddles of tears, I held them all closely and cried with them. As the clock struck that bewitching time of 7:30 I dried the tears, loaded them all in the car and headed off to school. Not the way you want to start the school day. With their hearts heavy and their minds processing their dad's death at a deeper level I sent them to their respective teachers. Whispering a quick prayer, I welcomed my 26 fresh little faces and continued about my day.
My mind kept returning to that conversation throughout the day. Not only did that conversation provide a better understanding for my girls, but it also allowed me to let go of any remaining guilt I was harboring. I was finally able to put some emotions in their proper place and relinquish the burden of blame and responsibility that I had been harboring.
As I left school that afternoon, no longer did everything seem so grey and mundane. The sky was vibrant and alive with the movement of the clouds as dark thunderheads built and the rain fell washing away the remnants of the past. Eagerly I await the uncertainty of the future, be it ever changing and fraught with excitement, or simply melding from one thing to the next. What ever it may be, my arms are wide open and my heart says bring it on!

spurts and sputters

2010-05-09T21:31:00.000-07:00

It seems like progress comes in spurts and sputters. It never is a continuous stream with an energy that drives it forward. It sputters and gasps and inches its way along and sometimes comes to a complete halt.
In the past few years, Mother's Day has been extremely difficult for me. I used to dread the disappointment I would feel when it was forgotten by my husband, or remembered at the very last minute. I always enjoyed the girls and their thoughtful little gifts and tokens of appreciation even down to the burned eggs in bed, but it was a day that was always fraught with emotional upheaval and lots of tears. Apologies would ensue and the whole day was ruined.
This year however was so very different. The entire day was tear free and not a disappointment was to be found. The girls and I had a wonderful day fixing bikes, planting flowers and having dinner together. Their gifts that they made at school and church were hearfelt and full of love and I treasure them all. The best gift came at the end of the day. After a full day of planting and enjoying my garden, Oscar and Berkely dug up the entire garden. Not a word was said by my girls, all four of them grabbed their gloves and fixed the garden to the very best of their ability. Salvaging as many plants as they could. I was reminded again of how much progress we have made. God has blessed me with four amazing daughters. They are my reason for being and my joy every day.
We may sputter our way through life, but there is progress and growth in each and every thing that we do. As I watch my girls inch their way along the rocky road of life, I rejoice each time they lurch into a new phase of their grief and understanding. Because, through it all, I know they will come out stronger, more compassionate, and having an unshakeable faith that will guide them throughout their lives.
As I sputter my way along, I am confident that I too will emerge from this process, a better person, stronger, more compassionate, and definitely stronger in my faith.

In the Silence

2010-04-07T22:19:00.000-07:00

As darkness slips it's way into the house,
large movements give way to smaller,
quieter ones until finally all is still.
The gentle steady rhythm of children sleeping,
echoing throughout the house.
Familiar creaks and groans from the house fill
the silence as I'm left all alone.
Alone to savor the remnants of the day.
My mind returns to those precious moments
spent with the girls, talking, laughing, admonishing,
but most of all living.
As the silence settles in, and today's thoughts fade,
my mind turns to what cannot be retrieved.
The emptiness, the loneliness, the sadness,
seeps in. Filling every nook with it's coldness.
My heart aches to hear your voice, see your face,
and have your arms wrapped around your children and I.
In the silence, I cry.

Absolutely Perfect---Eva Grace

2010-04-03T23:16:00.000-07:00

Six years ago today Jose and I welcomed into the world a gorgeous baby girl. Eva Grace was born on 04/04/04/ at exactly 4:03 p.m. It was a day that would forever change our lives. As We held Eva for the first time, Jose said, "She's absolutely perfect." He was absolutely correct. She was perfect, everything seemed perfect. We were able to hold our baby girl simply by the sheer grace of God. I had many issues throughout the pregnancy and during delivery my heart began to fail. Not only did I have a beautiful baby girl, but I also had PPCM (peri partum Cardiomyopathy).
Our Eva Grace has been a treasure in our life since the day she graced us with her presence. She is a very old soul and amazing beyond her years. Her quick wit and comedienne schtick always keeps us laughing and on our toes. She is very inquisitive and delights in gaining knowledge. Not a day goes by without her asking something very deep. She delights in amazing those around her with her extensive vocabulary.
Eva reminds me daily of how special she was to her Dad and I. She writes him letters and always draws him in the pictures with me. Those pictures always bring a smile to my face. My heart aches to think that he has already missed half of her life. She was only three when he died. Eva is just now understanding the permanence of her Dad's last action. Something I desperately wish that I could take away.
Eva is a very compassionate and caring soul. She always tries to empathize with those suffering around her. Making people smile is one of her greatest pleasures. When our Administrator lost his father recently, Eva said, "I know how sad he is Mom. He's just like me and my sisters, our Dad died too. Maybe we can help him understand." Again I cried. Eva is such an amazing little soul and I'm so very blessed to be her Mother. She has made our family so very rich with her presence.
Happy Birthday my little Bebe. I love you to the moon and beyond!

Bedtime

2010-02-18T22:31:00.000-08:00

As night settles in, there is an unrest about the house.
Little feet scamper through the halls even though they should be asleep.
Restless energy abounds whirring, buzzing, and popping even though four little bodies
are fraught with exhaustion.
Emotions exploding between happiness, excitement, anger, and sadness.
Slowly little bodies succumb, all but one.
I wrap my arms around your emotionally ravaged body and pull you near,
gently holding your heart next to my own.
Running my fingers through your hair, I search for words that you need to hear.
Knowing that nothing can change what needs to be done.
A thousand tears fall as you cry out for your Dad.
Your grief I can feel so deep and so pure,
I hold you and rock you until you finally sleep.
I sigh of relief escapes as I carry you to bed,
your grief was silent and is now ready to be heard.
With all my little angels safely asleep,
I tumble wearily into bed, for in slumber, sweet solace do I seek.

Shades of Grey

2010-02-17T17:46:00.000-08:00

Often times during grief group we are given a topic to discuss if we can't think of anything. Mind you, we have tons to talk about, but generally we skirt the issue of what has brought us all together. The last topic was to discuss what color you think your grief is. Not an easy task for me because my grief runs the color spectrum on any given day. However, in the last week the same color seeks to seep into my brain. Grey.
Dull, dingy, devoid of color grey.
Cold, damp, bone chilling grey.
Thick fog like, darkness that envelopes the heart and constricts it's emotions.
Unfeeling, oppressive grey.
I'm not quite sure why the greyness because overall I've been coping well. Lately it's just hit a plateau that I cannot shake. I've pondered the thought that maybe I've hit the grey plateau because I've hit acceptance. But if it's acceptance, shouldn't there be some emotion attached? Maybe it's a grey plateau because I'm still not where I should be? So many questions to explore.
Some days are grey with a tinge of blue.
Dark, deep brackish blue,
full of sadness and regret.
Some days are grey with white
white hot, searing pain, deep within the soul.
Some days are grey with hints of pink,
light, airy, full of promise pink.
Some days are grey with red,
boiling hot, angry red.
My heart and soul long for the days when emotions will no longer be cloaked in shades of grey, but vibrant and bursting with colors. Each day, each hour is a journey that I take. Some day I will emerge with a lighter heart and soul.

Beautiful Emma Marie

2010-02-02T22:37:00.000-08:00

My beautiful Emma Marie has kept me on my toes since the day I found out I was pregnant with her. She came into our lives at a very tumultuous time. It was Father's day 2000 when I gifted Jose with the news that baby # 3 was on the way. He had just found out that the extent of his back injury not only included blown discs, but also busted vertebrae and nerve damage to his right leg. He was unable to work, fighting a messy workman's comp case, and I find out I'm pregnant. Not the best time to have a baby, but onward we trudged. I took a second job as a bartender and Jose continued to stay home with the 2 bigger girls. Teacher by day, pregnant bartender by night. this baby was going to be a tough one!
November came along and Jose had major back surgery to repair what they could. this involved fusing, 12 rods and screws, and a bone graft. So now I was very pregnant with an invalid husband, 3 year old, and 2 year old. A
February rolls around and at this point I have high blood pressure, 2 jobs, a class from hell, 2 toddlers and a husband who still can't drive or lift anything more than 5 pounds. February 6, I drive to school with contractions. It's the 100th day of school, big party day for first graders. Teaching all day in labor and timing my contractions was kinda tricky, but at 3:30 I drove myself to the hospital to have my baby.
Finally at 3:30 in the morning of February 7 Emma decided to make her appearance. She was born with much fanfare, crash team and everything. When they put her on the scale they couldn't get an accurate weight because she kept rolling over. Rolling over and holding her head up, that's how she began her journey. Very determined from birth with a will stronger than any mule around, Emma Marie is the light in my life.
As a baby Emma was never still. At 6 months she was crawling and climbing bunk beds. She walked at 7 1/2 months and has talked since day one. She is my loudest child. So loud that we've had her hearing checked several time. Emma is fearless and impulsive. The only one of mine to have a concussion so far. She approaches life with vigor and a thirst for adventure that seems unquenchable. At age 3 she asked me for a tattoo. She loves the smell of tequila and I fully expect her to come home some day on the back of a Harley in full leathers.
Emma questions everything and will not back down if she thinks she is right. She has even beat me at the parent game many times. My favorite has to be when she refused to clean her room. After several hours of push and shove, I told her that when adults didn't want to clean up their mess they hired someone to clean up for them. She went into her room, took $20 out of her piggy bank and handed to me. "Here Mom, go ahead and clean it." Yep, I lost that one.
Fiercely independent, yet very tenderhearted. She has a love for animals that runs very deep. When we are in Colorado she spends every waking minute out with the animals. She has an affinity for horses that I have only seen in once before, with my brother Dominick. Unfortunately, Emma is allergic to everything with hair or fur. She will be covered in hives from head to toe and barely breathing before she will leave the animals alone. She desperately wants to be a veternarian when she grows up.
Emma was 6 when Jose died. She was extremely angry with her Dad and did not cry or grieve him. She was very matter of fact and practical about things. She wanted to know what I was going to do with all of his things, if I would wear my wedding rings, would I sell the car, etc. She refused to discuss him or even mention memories about him. When we went to grief group, she would always discuss pets that had died and grandparents. It wasn't until this past fall that Emma finally cried for days for her Dad. She had nightmares and was struggling in school. Her behavior at home was out of control. I watched her wrestle with all of that grief and anger and my heart crumbled. She was fighting a battler all alone and would not ask for help. I would approach her, only to be pushed away. Finally she climbed into my bed and sobbed like she never had before. She talked about how unfair it was and about all of her unsettled fears.
Now my little one has some peace in her life. She is improving in school and mischievous as ever! The ornery little sparkle in her eye is back and she is keeping me hopping!
I pray that her passion for adventure and her fierce sense of strength never wane. I love that she challenges me when she thinks she's right. I know that she will never let anyone walk all over her or take advantage of her. She has a beautiful soul that has so much to teach others. I am anxious to meet the magnificent adult that she will become. I don't want her to grow up too fast, I want to hold on and enjoy the journey with her. She has been such a blessing in my life and brings me unmeasurable joy.
Happy 9th Birthday Buggy!

A letter to my love

2010-01-23T21:58:00.000-08:00

Jose,
It has been 2 years and 5 months today since I last saw your beautiful face and heard your voice.
It seems like the girls and I have been on this journey forever now, and yet it seems like yesterday that it began. I don't know how to tell you what a void your absence has created. The girls cry and scream for you, beg for you to undo that last fatal action. They pray for one more day with their dad. A prayer that cannot be answered. They giggle and laugh when silly memories are recalled. Their facial expressions and gestures, a constant reminder of you.
I can't even describe how much I miss you. I ache to hear your voice and feel your arms around me just one more time. Our room is so empty and quiet without you. Our bed, void of warmth and comfort. I cry for your companionship and your knowledge, seeking your reassurance and support. I talk to you daily and hope that you hear me. I'm sure many think that I'm crazy, but they just don't understand.
I wish I didn't understand why you chose to leave us behind. Sometimes I think that would be easier than understanding and trying to defend your choice to those who say "If he loved you and the girls so much, why was he so selfish to take his own life?" I know that they just don't understand and are incapable of understanding the pain that you were in.
I am very grateful for the time we did have together and for all that you taught me. I learned so much from you! You would be so proud, today I sharpened all of the knives by myself by hand, using the "good kit." I even stood up to the guy at Jiffy Lube who tried to sell me all sorts of crap for the truck. You taught me well.
I cannot believe how broken and beaten I feel on many days. I know that I must be strong and steady for our girls, but some days I am very weary. It crushes me to think that you will be missing so much of their lives. You already have, Eva's first day of school, violin recitals, tae kwan do tournaments, soccer games. You will miss first dates, first kisses, teaching them to drive (you really think I can do that??),and so much more. I know that in my heart you will always be with us, but I can't help but feel selfish and wish that you were physically with us as well.
The day I met you, my life was forever changed. You brought me so much joy and happiness in the 12 years we were together that I can't imagine experiencing it again. You captured my heart and my soul and it is forever yours.
All my love,
Tillie

Dissatisfaction of Dreams

2010-01-16T20:40:00.000-08:00

I close my eyes and beckon for the night to draw me near,
memories flooding my dreams.
Your laughter, your smile, your touch all so real.
Endless minutes of having you near.
My heart soars as if nothings is amiss.
I feel complete with you once again by my side.

In a fleeting moment, dawn is drawing near
day breaking, awash with a pink glimmer of the new day.
As the light streams over my face, all hope begins to crumble.
Your laughter, your smile, your touch all fade.
Endless minutes of missing you.
My heart shatters and tears fall.
I feel decimated with you ripped from my side.

The day you died.

2009-12-08T21:41:00.000-08:00

The day you died, I was very angry. I knew you were very sick and trying to get help. I was angry that I had been fighting for you for so long and you had just realized you needed help. I was angry that I was 2 minutes too late to save you. I was angry that our daughters were home and witnessed your death.
The day you died, I was exhausted. My daily battle to help you heal was taking it's toll. I was exhausted because I was putting up a good front for everyone to see. I was exhausted from working so hard to make ends meet. I was exhausted because I was sick myself and unable to heal.
The day you died, I was sad. Sad because your pain was too much to bear. I was sad because my children had lost their father and I had lost my husband and best friend. I was sad because I would not hear your voice or feel the comfort of your arms ever again.

The day you died, I was lost. Lost because no more gentle prodding or encouragement from you would there be. Lost because my identity had been stripped. No more Mrs. or wife, but WIDOW by my name.

The day you died, I was relieved. Relieved because your pain had come to an end. Relieved because no more worry would I bear. Relieved because you were freed from your nightmarish hell. Relieved because our daughters could begin to heal.

The day you died, I was hurt. Hurt because my love wasn't enough to save you. Hurt that our daughters would grow up without a father. Hurt that you would leave me to brave the world alone. Hurt that our time together was so short.

The day you died, my life was re-defined. Stronger, wiser, more compassionate I've become. Even in death, you continue to amaze and support me.

Rest well my love, and know, that even though I must move forward, I will forever love you.

Strength

2009-11-24T21:21:00.000-08:00

My beautiful Miranda possesses a strength that others can only hope to obtain. From the day she was born she has taught me everything I know about being strong. Always the first to take responsibility, eager to please and do anything for her Dad. Wanting to be helpful and courageous, but sometimes taking on more than she should.
Her compassion for others shines through as she dutifully becomes the care taker for so many. Miranda would take care of her dad when I was away at work. When his depression became so deep that he hardly left his chair, she would check on him and bring him whatever he would ask for. She was always the first one he called if I wasn't around to help.
The day he chose to end his life, Miranda was taking care of him. He was sick and she wanted to make sure he was ok. She went downstairs to check on him when he was supposed to be sleeping. As she came down the stairs she witnessed him pulling the trigger that ended his life. As he fell, she ran and called 911 and grabbed towels to stop the bleeding. I met her at the door and she told me she couldn't turn him over, but that he was still breathing and the bleeding wouldn't stop.

She has processed his death with amazing clarity and insight into his illness and subsequent addiction issues. She carries her head high, laughs, smiles, and plays like there is nothing amiss in her world.
Such a burden for a child to carry, yet she does it with such grace. At first she would not give many details about what she witnessed. When asked why, she said, "Because I don't want you to be sad Mom." She has since shed some of that burden and divulged more details of that fateful day.
Nightmares come and go, along with fears and anxiety at times, but she is doing amazingly well.
I pray for strength like hers.
She is my hero

As morning dawns

2009-11-02T20:31:00.001-08:00

The darkness of night slowly begins to recede as the first pink hues of dawn touch the mountain tops. Faint whispers of light begin to bounce off the peaks of snow, sparkling and shimmering with the excitement of a new day.
As the light slowly meanders down the mountains and into the valley, I breathe in the cool morning air and listen for the quiet. I listen for the soft unsteady rhythm of my heart, the gentle snoring of the girls as they slumber. With a gentle sigh, I lift my eyes to heaven and praise God for all that is right in my world.
Morning's first light begins to fade and a low hum begins to interrupt the silence. The calm gives way to a spark of energy that begins to pop and whirl as the responsibilities of the day begin to wash over me. With a gentle sigh, I bid my solitude farewell.

Living in the Rain

2009-10-19T21:01:00.000-07:00

The falling rain elicits so many memories. The damp air and the sweet smell taking me back to our beginning. Hours spent getting soaked under the trees. Gentle rain falling as we lost ourselves in each other. The soft tapping of droplets hitting the leaves and rolling onto our heads.
The coolness that touched our skin without chilling us. Your warmth enveloping me and holding me close.
The steady cadence keeping time as we laughed and pulled each other closer. The plinking of puddles, ripples being made, our love being nurtured along.
Each storm making our love so tangible, the feel, the smell, the intensity. Making me live again if only for a brief moment.
My joy for a love so fierce, changing to sorrow for a love uncompleted. My tears mix with the rain as I mourn the love I've lost, yet rejoice in the love that I lived.

Soon

2009-10-15T20:23:00.000-07:00

Heavy in heart and soul, I sit and let memories cascade over me.
Strength and power elude me as I wonder how you are feeling, what you are thinking, if you are ok.
With tears falling, I try and remember that it is time, your precious life no longer in danger.
My hero, my mentor, the strongest man I know.
Kind, gentle, mischievous, the most grateful man I know.
Caring, compassionate, the most giving man I know.
My heart breaks to know that you are alone without family around you. I fear that you don't understand why we didn't take you home.
I pray for the Lord to bring you peace.
Someday soon I will see you again and know that you are doing well.
My sweet, sweet, Dad.

My Dad

2009-09-30T21:39:00.000-07:00

As a young child I thought he was capable of giving me the moon and the stars.
The love he showed us was unfathomable. Even though there were 7 of us and 39 foster children, there was tons of love! He shared his love of Christ, animals, and his passion for people with all of us. My dad was amazing. He worked 24/7 in my younger days, running a dairy and farming. Then he started working for Exxon and worked graveyards. I remember one night he took me to work with him. It wasn't a glamorous job and I don't remember the job exactly. I do however, remember staying up all night, feeding the deer that came down apples out of his lunchbox. He packed special snacks and even let me drink a Squirt at midnight. Just me and my Dad.
As I got older, he worked for Mid Continent Mining Company and worked very long hours. Even though he was working a lot, he always made it to my volleyball or basketball games. I always knew where my dad was because his cheers where the loudest.
My Dad was invincible. He was always there when I needed him the most and would give me his opinion on every one of my actions, like making me sit front row in church after I had been out drinking the night before, followed by hauling rocks from the creek on our farm. I always knew if he was pleased with me or not!
The love that he showed for all those around him was genuine and deep. We never were on time to anything because he would stop and talk to everyone along the way. If it was someone close to the family, we were hours late. We were even late to my brother's funeral because he was talking to someone he knew and was worried about their well being.
My sense of compassion, work ethics, and amicable nature, I do believe I inherited from my Dad.
Now that his alzheimer's has progressed to the point that he no longer recognizes me, and he thinks my Emma looks like Oprah, I find that I'm fiercely protective of him.
My heart breaks every time I see him struggle to say something he can't remember. I cry when his eyes are searching a picture to recall those most precious to him. I laugh when he does silly things unintentionally, like wear my glasses instead of his, or mistake a peach pit for an egg and puts it in the carton. I grieve for my mother who is losing her husband a little at a time, I grieve for my daughters who are losing their grandpa whom they adore, I grieve for my siblings who don't take the time to visit, I grieve for my dad who is slipping away day by day.
I rejoice in the fact that his faith has never wavered and one day soon, he will be called home and will no longer suffer here on Earth. I am comforted by the fact that I had such an amazing Dad to teach me how to be strong so that I could be where I am today.
I am so very grateful to have had such a blessed life with my Dad.

Angels do cry.

2009-09-23T20:12:00.000-07:00

So many nights I hold you,
my arms encircling your weary little body wracked with sobs.
Your tears falling ceaselessly as you cry from the depths of your soul.
Comfort is not to be found. The pain continues to bleed from every corner of your being.
My words cannot breach the pain that you are releasing.
I hold you, helplessly rocking back and forth while you grieve, my tears soon mixing with yours.
Questions you ask, I cannot answer.
My reassurances seem so hollow.
Your body grows heavy, tears slowing to a trickle. Exhaustion begins to creep in.
Sobs getting fainter, eyes close, breathing slows.
Sleep my angel, sleep, for tomorrow holds the promise of a better day.

Childhood joy

2009-09-16T21:36:00.000-07:00

The one sound that will always bring a smile to my face and fills my heart and soul with joy is the laughter and giggling of my little girls. Too often during the last 2 years that laughter has disappeared and the giggles stopped. Tears and sobbing often took their place. The pain that racked their little bodies and made them so very tired and angry, ruled our house. Sadness seemed to always attach itself to every celebration and holiday that came our way.
Lately, the sound of laughter and giggling bursting forth has started to reappear in our doorway. Fits of sheer joy rush through their little bodies and cleanse them of any sadness and pain that may still be lingering. Their play is lighter and more carefree. Tears fall less often and the gut wrenching sobs appear less often. I am eternally grateful to finally have a sliver of happiness find our home. I am truly blessed by those around me who have prayed for us and sacrificed time with their family for us. Knowing that there truly is a "village" that is behind me and willing to help, brings me such comfort and relief. My girls will make it through their dad's suicide stronger, more compassionate, and caring people because of it. They will never regain every aspect of their childhood innocence, but they will be able to experience the sheer giddiness and delight that happiness will bring. They will jump, climb, and giggle until it drives me crazy. My girls will capture the moon and the stars, and I will treasure every delightful giggle that comes my way!

Anniversaries

2009-08-16T21:36:00.000-07:00

August 17 1998: 10:00 a.m. Jose, Analisa, and I are going to have the ultrasound and find out if we are having a boy or a girl this time. It's hard to explain to the 8 month old, that she's going to be a big sister. After the ultrasound we are headed to the courthouse to get married.

1:30 p.m. We are having another girl!! We also got married on the way home. The poor lady who married us was so upset by the end, neither one of us could get it right. Jose laughed all the way through the vows especially on the "forsaking all others" part. I put the ring on the wrong hand. Perfect wedding!

August 17, 2005--- I wrote the following:

You're the man
Whose arms I love wrapped around me at the end of a long hard day.
The man who can make troubles melt away.
You're the man
who's sensitive enough to know when something's bothering me and thoughtful enough to do something about it.
You make me feel beautiful with nothing more than a look and a smile and make my heart beat faster with just a touch.
You're the man who understands the way I think, who supports me in every crazy endeavor.
Who's grateful for the things we share and proud of my independence and accomplishments.
You're the man who stands beside me in everything.
The man who steals my hear over and over...
The man I'll love forever.
You have had my heart since the day we met.
I couldn't imagine life without you.

August 17, 2007
Jose wrote...........

Spending today with you and our family brought so many memories of when we started or lives together. When you asked me if I was ok I just had so many emotions going through me, everything was just a little overwhelming at the time. I really did mean it when I asked you if we could have another baby once your heart was better. I did mean it, I don't feel like our family is complete yet. We will have our baby boy or girl. ( I really want a boy). Even if we have a girl our family will be complete, but only when your heart is better so that our family stays complete.
I love you, and I love our girls.

That was the closest thing to a love note he had ever written. Sadly, 6 days later he ended his own life.

August 17, 2009....
Celebrating our anniversary like we always did, taking the girls to the zoo today. It was/is the place we celebrated our anniversary every year.

I have had more tears this year than last. I have been contemplating the difference for several days through all of the tears. I think the difference may be that last year my head understood the the loss and I was functioning on purely logical thinking and my heart was still pretty much in shock. This year, my heart finally understands and it hurts more. I have always been the impossible dreamer and am famous for saying " it will all work out." Well, this isn't working out the way I had dreamed. My head understands the reasons behind the suicide, but my heart is having trouble accepting the explanations. My heart wants to know why he left us if he loved us so much. It's selfish I know but I can't seem to turn it off these days.
My heart hurts both physically, and emotionally and I desperately miss my handsome man. I miss his hands that shook every so slightly, the snow white scar than ran across his right thumb. His muscular arms that would hold me while I slept, his mischievious grin and chuckle when he was pranking someone, his lopsided smile when he'd show up at my classroom door in the middle of the day just to give me a kiss and tell me that he loved me, I miss it all.
Our love was very precious and I will always treasure that.
It's not with regret that I approach this anniversary, but with hope. I will always treasure and remember my time and love with Jose. I'm hoping and dreaming that it will work out and I will again experience love that encapsulating again. I want to have the butterflies in my belly from just one look, one smile. But until then I will remember and treasure....

One Life...
One Love...
One Joy...

A poem written by a PPCM sister, Tracy. What so many of us thought but couldn't say.

2009-07-28T20:07:00.000-07:00

I’m here. It’s not where I want to be
But it’s where I must be.
My babies are breathing, I should be there.
There to touch them, reassure them, tell them mommy cares.
But I’m here. No, not where I want to be.
I am young, I am fierce,
But mostly? I am a mother!

Struggling to breathe, fighting the fear of sleep.
Too weak to turn over, too strong to let myself fade away.
People all around, they seem to be waiting with bated breath.
What are they waiting for? A miracle?
No, they are waiting for the code. The code they are sure is coming.
I am young, I am fierce,
But mostly? I am a mother!

Not today my friends. Not today!
Do not look at me with your sad eyes.
They have no meaning, I will be here tomorrow
And the day after that, I assure you.
Scared as I may be, I will stare death in the face, and I will find him wanting.
I am young, I am fierce,
But mostly? I am a mother!

The code will not be coming my friends, that alarm will not sound.
Not today my dear ones , you can breathe again and so will I.
So give me a smile, pretend the tubes are not there.
Tell me a story, make me laugh, dry my tears.
If I could choose to do it all over again, I would. Am I crazy?
No… I am young, I am fierce,
But mostly? I am a mother!

Refuse to give up. Live your life to the fullest, no matter how long it is!
Spread the Word

Little Things

2009-07-12T16:25:00.000-07:00

It's the little things that define my happiness. Simple, insignificant to most, day to day things that truly bring me joy. I have 4 beautiful and talented daughters who make me smile and laugh every day. They bring with them such compassion and caring to truly save the world if they choose. They have befriended the entire neighborhood to which I have become "mom". The majority of the day is spent watching various events from jumping on the tramp to swimming, riding bikes, driving RC cars and mowing lawns. I love when I have a whole bundle to feed which means I have at a minimum, 1 extra for every meal and various snacks throughout the day. It is always an endeavor to teach them a new skill in the kitchen like making pizza, pancakes, mac and cheese, and brownies.
Today we took a trek to the 7-11 with 7 children, now that was an adventure! Slurpee machines are dangerous things when being maneuvered by 8 year olds. I felt sorry for the lady that got splattered with cherry slurpee, but couldn't help but laugh at the expression on Emma's face when it exploded!
Listening to the laughter and giggles and hearing them say "Tillie, since I spend all day at your house anyway, can I call you mom?" Makes it all worth while. My girls are learning how to be truly grateful for good friends, and a mom who doesn't have to work in the summer. They have been super patient with the little kids and even have modified their play to include the toddlers who want to join in.
The little antics and acts of the children are my greatest little joy. Others include sitting on the swings early in the morning and watching the birds at the feeders, tending my flowers and plants, cooking for a crowd, and enjoying time with wonderful friends.
But my secret little joy is really cheesy nachos with jalepenos from 7-11. You fill the container with as much cheese and jalepenos as it will hold. It's a true gut bomb but tastes ooh so good.
I first fell in love with those in high school. After a full night of hanging out with friends and drinking too much bad liquor they were the best thing ever. Then when I was pregnant with Analisa I could not get enough of them and had to add more and more jalepenos. Without fail, in every subsequent pregnancy Jose would have to go out in the wee hours of the night to satisfy this craving. Now it's a rare little indulgence that makes me remember how completely and utterly blessed I am . Crazy I know, but it is the little things that remind you of how amazing our God truly is.

Musings

2009-07-06T20:43:00.000-07:00

School has been out now for about a month and the girls and I have had quite a few adventures so far this summer. Through it all there has been this nagging ache that accompanies us where ever we go. The underlying tone is a bit melancholy and bubbles forth at some point. as I pay closer attention to it and listen, truly listen to the tone and the emotion that accompanies it, I find that all 5 of us are bringing it along.
At first it was Eva, very emotional and sad, lots of tears and regression in behaviors. Silly little things like fingers in her mouth and baby talk. Then I noticed it in Analisa and Miranda. Lots of tears over silly little things like being called a tomboy. Analisa used to relish that title and hated being called a girly girl. Now the words bring on a slew of tears. Miranda has become more clingy and quiet wrapping in her Daddy blanket, Emma as defiant as ever, but always questioning and wanting answers that I don't have. As I looked at myself i noticed that I am in tears more often, little things like the appearance of the moon, thunder, my flowers blooming, rain showers, and making homemade limeade will send me into tears.
The melancholy the nagging ache that has been seeping from within is a sadness and lonliness in all of us. The girls are at different stages of understanding their sadness. Analisa and Miranda are saddened by the memories of summers past when their dad was well. They both desperately miss their midnight chats with their dad. He would take them outside and look at the stars and explain the constellations to them. Analisa especially loved this. Miranda loved sitting in the big blue chair in the middle of the night and watching movies with her dad. They both understand the permanence of his death and ache to hear his voice and be wrapped in his arms again.
Emma and Eva have a very different sadness. Emma vaguely remembers her dad being well enough do take her places and do things with her. Eva has 1 or 2 at the most memories of him taking her places. Her memories have been through pictures or stories told. Just yesterday Emma wrote a letter to her dad telling him how much she loved and missed him and asked him to come back to us. It was heartwrenching to read that letter and know that she didn't understand the permanence of his death. Eva's regression is back to where she was before he died. She has been asking me questions about that time period and our anniversary.
I have tried to smile and let everyone know how well we are doing, but at the end of the day, I still find myself crying after I put the girls to bed. The still of the night was our time together, Even though he worked nights, he would call me every night and we would talk. I miss the conversations over mundane things like laundry, shopping, and if the kids finished their chores. I still wake up every morning around 3 and listen for his car to pull into the driveway.
The sadness is different than it was even a year ago, now I can smile in retrospect and know how truly loved the girls and I were. My sadness is for what he is missing, his girls are so beautiful and perfect in every way. They learn so much and amaze me on a daily basis. They are compassionate and thoughful and he is not here to see how proud they would make him.
I suspect our sadness will increase over the next month since we are approaching the 2 year anniversary, but I will do everything within my power to make sure that the girls understand how loved they were by their dad and how much I love them. I will help them send letters, beat pillows, scream in anger, whatever it takes to make it through this stage and on to the next.
As for myself, well I'm trying to come to terms with the love that we shared, and figure out where to store that. I desperately hope to experience love like that again when the time is right. But for now, there's a song by Mat Nathanson that starts like this....
I miss the sound of your voice
I miss the rush of your skin
I miss the still of the silence
As you breathe out and I breathe in ....
That's kind of where I am at and when it's time, I'll know what comes next.

Rain

2009-06-09T21:44:00.000-07:00

Rain used to bring so much joy,
Cool, refreshing droplets cascading down my face-
my arms onto yours wrapped tightly around me.
Holding me, protecting me.
Perfect droplets lingering on my nose
until it fell, mingling with your warm kisses
gently tugging at my lips and whispering
how much you loved and need me.

Now rain brings so much sorrow.
Cold, piercing droplets stinging my face,
my arms, reminding me that you're
no longer here to hold me or protect me.
Perfect droplets on my lips, reminiscent of your kisses.
Cold and silent of a love gone quiet.

Rain mixing with my tears,
longing for peace and contentment.
Perfect droplets that cleanse
my aching heart-
memories of a love
very cherished.

pictures in her head

2009-05-18T20:37:00.000-07:00

My little Eva is a very old soul for a five year old body. She is quite observant and outspoken about many things. Generally it is about things that embarrass me to no end. A few weeks ago she announced to everybody in the check out line at the store that her mom's butt jiggles if you smack it. I heard lots of giggles from that one. Needless to say, I've been exercising A LOT!!!
Lately her observations and musings have taken on a very deep and somber tone. She has asked so many questions about her Dad and is always wanting to see the pictures and watch the daddy videos. It seems like and unquenchable thirst for information that she can understand. Every picture holds a reality for her that is building the picture of who her dad was. She was barely 3 when he completed suicide and doesn't really remember her dad not being sick. It is inevitable that we spend part of every day in tears missing her daddy and trying to remember him. I must admit, some days my patience are worn thin and I'm really exhausted with the routine of it all. But my dear sweet little soul is desperately searching for her dad and needs my support and understanding as she searches.
I was stripped to the core when I heard her explanation to her best friend. She told her that she was going to see her daddy again someday, and wanted to make sure that she didn't forget what he looked like because the picture in her head was fuzzy.
Ah, if I could make it so simple for her. I yearn for her to remember his arms around her. I pray that she remembers the sound of his voice and the nicknames he would call her. I try to remind her that he said she was the most perfect baby ever on the day she was born. I wish I could deepen her understanding of the love he had for her. My days are fraught with worry that I'm not meeting this expectation and somehow she will forget and grow up not knowing how much she was loved and cherished. So for now, I continue this journey though many tangled emotions and understandings, and pick myself up when I stumble.

Some things a mother should never read

2009-05-03T18:39:00.000-07:00

Being a dutiful and conscientious laundress can be quite tedious. I hate pulling the pant legs inside out, unrolling the socks, and checking the pockets. Which I used to refuse to do. I washed many a a wallet, chapstick, knife, gun, crayon, sticker. You name it, it had gone through my washer and dryer. Now said objects can do quite a bit of damage to the ol' washer and dryer so I vowed to start trying harder to remove offending objects before they enter the wash cycle.

As I was cursing my children's creativity and affinity for stickers, markers, and crayons, I came across a very intricately folded set of papers. Wondering if it was a forgotten homework assignment, note from a friend, or perhaps from a boy, I felt that it was my duty to read the paper and make sure all was groovy.

When I unfurled the paper and began reading, the tears started to fall.
Somethings are better left unread.

Blocked

2009-04-29T20:20:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to write several things over the last month and each time I sit down, nothing comes. I draw a blank and it all goes away. Mind you, when I'm driving in the car it seems to just rush through my head, ideas tumbling and tripping to get out. So here I sit before the computer and once again, I am unable to string together coherent thoughts. I will hopefully be able to soon put these feelings and ideas into words, until then I will just allow the emotions to scream loudly in my head.

Fraught with Emotion

2009-03-09T20:39:00.000-07:00

I need comfort, companionship, and security.
I want laughter, joy, and solitude.
I miss your humor, wit, and knowledge.
I ache for your voice, your touch, your love.
I yearn for your presence.

I surrender to the anger, fear, and sadness.
I scream in pain and frustration.
I cry for the emptiness, the loneliness, the uncertainty.
I whimper in exhaustion.

And the day begins again....

Absence and Presence

2009-03-08T20:22:00.000-07:00

By Pablo Neruda
Translated by Alastair Reid

If I die, survive me with such sheer force
that you waken the furies of the pallid and the cold,
from south to south lift your indelible eyes,
from sun to sun dream through your singing mouth.
I don’t want your laughter or your steps to waver,
I don’t want my heritage of joy to die.
Don’t call up my person. I am absent.
Live in my absence as if in a house.
Absence is a house so vast
that inside you will pass through its walls
and hang pictures on the air.
Absence is a house so transparent
that I, lifeless, will see you, living,
and if you suffer, my love, I will die again.

Anger, Justice, and Grace

2009-02-25T19:00:00.000-08:00

How is it that the rational mind can be so disconnected from the emotional heart when both are vital for a person to function successfully? It seems like it was yesterday when I was placing phone calls to family, friends, and those who needed to know that Jose had completed suicide. During those phone calls I distinctly remember telling many that I wasn't angry at Jose. That has been my mantra for 18 months now, "I'm not angry, I understand why, I'm grateful that HIS pain is gone. I didn't stop to listen to my heart telling me that I was really mad as hell at the situation and at MY pain. I thought that I was doing a pretty good job of riding the grief roller coaster, when the fact of the matter was, I was just riding it so far, and then jumping off!

My girls have been struggling with their grief recently and that has led to many things. Grades have dropped at school, homework has been neglected, rooms are a disaster, bickering and fighting has increased, in short, general happiness has fled our home. This has created one very grumpy mother who is trying to be understanding, yet be firm and not let grief become the excuse to be lazy and disrespectful. It's a fine line and some days I'm able to walk the tightrope with ease, other days, I've tripped on it and fell flat on my face.

So it was no surprise when Emma and I were having a battle of the wills, when we both just lost it. Emma was screaming how much she hated me and that her dad would never make her clean her room, and why did I always have to be so mean. I felt the rage boiling and was preparing to walk away, when it happened. The hot rush of my anger and the realization that I was angry at Jose and the situation, not at Emma, jolted me with such force, that I started crying. I cried for a solid 2 hours before I was exhausted.

After my cry and the acknowledgment, that yes I was angry, I felt as though a huge stone was lifted off of my shoulders and I could walk a little bit taller. I've been telling the girls for months, that it's ok to be angry. Now it was time to actually listen and apply what I'd been saying.

The ebb and flow of grief is unique to every individual, but it is guaranteed that everyone will experience anger at some point. By staying so busy, and denying my anger, I was hindering a process that will help me grow into a better, stronger, more compassionate person.

I feel the anger well up at times and sting the backs of my eyes like a white hot poker, it reaches to the depths of my being and I want to cry out at the top of my lungs and yell for hours. I want to compartmentalize it and place it deep within my heart so that it is never seen or heard from again. I want to beat it down until it is lifeless and small. I want justice for the pain, the hurt, the loneliness. But that is me being selfish and small.

I need to be able to ride the roller coaster all the way to the end, feeling each jolt of the rickety wheels as it hurtles down the track. I need to taste the salty sting of the anger and surrender to the emotions that will guide me to a better place.

I will not seek justice, but accept grace and forgiveness. I will own my anger, and not let it own me. As I do this, another stone will be lifted from my burden and I will walk taller and feel lighter.

My life will always be defined into two categories, life before the suicide, and life after the suicide. It was a life altering experience, that has made me a stronger, more compassionate person. I will forever have that experience with me, but now I will be able to choose, how it re-defines my life, it will no longer choose for me.

Microbes and Men

2009-02-11T20:44:00.000-08:00

Every January-February I teach a unit on Germs. This is one of my all time favorite things to teach because I love to hear first graders use words like microbes, lymphocytes, cytoplasm, and agar! I know a little bit crazy, but I do enjoy it. I let them swab different areas of the school and see where the most germs live. But this year I love it even more thanks in part to my newest student Halima.
Halima is from a refugee camp in Somalia. She speaks very little English, but what a big personality she possesses. She makes me smile on an hourly basis.
It was about day 3 of our unit and I was reviewing some basic facts about germs with my ELD group (English Language Development). They are all considered non-English speakers so vocabulary development is essential. I was asking the group if they remembered what we had talked about the day before. Halima shouted out, "Teacher, I know this. They are little, they are scary and they make you sick." Being quite impressed with myself as a teacher, I replied, "Very good Halima. Do you know what we call them?"
Without batting an eye, she said very matter of factly, " We call them men!"
I about lost it. I was laughing so hard my entire lesson for the day was shot.
I will always love my unit on GERMS!!!

Perspective

2009-01-25T17:05:00.000-08:00

As I sit down to write, the house is amazingly quite. The girls are next door enjoying what's left of a Sunday afternoon with friends, and I have the house to myself. I can hear the stead plinking of the water as it drips off of the eaves and onto the deck. Diablo and Oscar are stretched out and snoring. Things that should bring me comfort only seem to emphasize how alone I am. I find myself missing the sounds of Jose. Missing the sound of the history channel, which I still can't bear to watch. Missing the presence of another person who thinks your thoughts and knows just what to do to aggravate you, and bring you joy.

Yet the feelings are different than they were a year ago at this time. Last year I physically ached when I stopped long enough to realize how much I missed him. I would spend days in tears and sadness. I slept on the couch because I couldn't bear to sleep in our bed alone. I never even entered our bedroom for almost a full year.

I still miss him with all of my being, but I am able to remember all the happiness he brought me, the joy on his face when he would find a new little elephant or giraffe that I hadn't collected yet. Just the simple smile of his when I would bring him a treat from the store (which I did every time I shopped.) I no longer cry when I remember him saying to me everyday, "How was your day today my lovely wife?" I also can smile every time I head off to work and remember that he would say every day, "I love you dear, be careful and come home safe."

I love how my daughters remember that he would always buy me tulips instead of roses, because they were my favorite. When tulips were out of season, it was daisies because he said that I reminded him of a daisy. So now, on my birthday, my daughters buy me tulips.

I'm learning that this journey through grief and loss teaches you to look inside of yourself and find what is truly important and meaningful to you. Even still, you are forever changed and the loss itself never changes. The sharp stabbing pain that accompanies it, may begin to dull over time, but you will forever feel the sting of that loss.

As I approach each and every day, I thank God for the time he gave me with Jose. In the 12 years that we were together, I learned how to love with such intensity, and to treasure each and every moment with him. I learned compassion, compromise, and how to be absolutely happy with who I was. He helped me grow into the person I am today, and supported me in whatever endeavor I chose. He kept me grounded when I got too grandiose, and rallied me when I was down.

I knew that Jose loved me with all of his heart, but the day that I had to meet with heart transplant dr's and discuss that future possibility it was confrimed, he told me, "If you need a heart transplant, I will give you mine. The girls must have their mom." I was overcome by how much love and sacrifice was in that simple verbal exchange.

So now it's been 17 months and 2 days since he took his own life. I'm finding that the sting of the actual day lessens with each passing month and that the girls don't even ask how long it's been anymore. We've settled into a familiar routine that seems crazy busy for most, but is working for us. We struggle with the loss of Jose and there are still many tear filled days. But the tears of sadness are replaced with sweet, happy memories, or smart assed comments that he would make and then everyone is giggling and the world continues on. I get to see my husband in the faces of my girls each and everyday, and for that, I'm truly grateful.

My Brush with Greatness

2008-12-26T21:07:00.000-08:00

In church on Christmas Eve, the pastor had asked us to share with our neighbor a brush with greatness that we have experienced. It could be anything that we felt was truly great like, running into a celebrity kind of great. I didn't share with anyone. I couldn't think of anything truly great that would be worth sharing. I suppose it's because I was feeling rather sorry for myself. Here it was Christmas Eve, such an incredible family time, everyone laughing, hugging, and holding their family a little closer, yet my family was not complete. I had spent the whole day in nervous anticipation of the dreaded moment when the tears would fall and my girls would comment on their dad's death. Those moments came and we cried and shared happy memories, then went about our business.
So sitting there in church, I wasn't feeling like anything great had been happening. I sat and I listened to the message and pondered what Pastor Andy was saying. I thought about the lonely shephard's, the outcasts of society, and how they must have felt when the angel appeared to announce the birth of baby Jesus. I pondered their actions and how amazing it must have been to be chosen to witness the baby Jesus. The message weighed heavily on my mind as I drove home.
After church I rushed the girls to bed so I could do all of that last minute stuff that parents have to do on Christmas Eve. All of the wrapping and wondering where I hid all of the presents. I panicked and called my friend Danielle to come and help me.
At 11:28 and there was a knock at my door. I wasn't expecting anyone, so I cautiously answered. There on my door step was a group of 6 complete strangers bearing gifts for my family. They said that they had heard of our loss and wanted to help out. They were very young, maybe in their early 20's. Probably for the first time in my entire life, I was speechless. I thanked them and asked how they knew. They said that I didn't know them and they weren't going to tell me how they knew us. They just wanted to make sure that we had a Merry Christmas.
Standing in my rattiest t-shirt and sweatpants, I humbly thanked them and told them to drive carefully. As they drove off, it hit me. This was my brush with greatness.
It doesn't have to have bells and whistles, or be somebody who is famous. Greatness happens around us all the time. Greatness occurs when caring people take the time to help those who might be struggling. Greatness happens through the service of others.
I am very humbled by the greatness of those 6 people who showed up at my door on Christmas Eve. I am awed and amazed by their selflessness, kindness and generosity and hope that I may in turn, be able to share and serve like they did.

Nightmares

2008-12-02T19:00:00.000-08:00

When I was small I remember being ripped from my sleep with horrible nightmares maybe a dozen times. It seems like they were always related to something I had seen on television or heard from my older siblings. With each nightmare I was easily comforted by my mom or dad. The terror I felt was quickly assuaged and back to sleep I went.
These days it seems like each night brings terror and sleep isn't so easy to come by. The dreams are more vivid and real and I can not dispel them quite so easily. The dreams are not only my dreams, but they are my children's dreams as well. Not a night goes by that one of us isn't plagued in our sleep with horrific scenes. For the first eleven months, I slept upstairs on the couch so I could be close to the screams and sobs. Yes, there were other reasons for me to be on the couch, but my first reason was to be close to the girls.
My older girls have a better understanding of their nightmares and I can usually talk them through and back to sleep. Generally it's really not a "scary" dream, but one that included their dad and was so vivid they thought it was real. Then when they wake up, they are upset and cry because he is no longer here. The fact that their dad is the one who used to calm their nighttime fears only adds to the tears and the sadness of the moment. But they, for the most part, have an incredible depth of understanding when it comes to working through their dreams. They understand that the subconscious is one way our mind works through things that are difficult for us to handle when we are cognizant.
My little girls are the ones I worry about. Not a night has gone by in 15 months that either one of them has slept completely through the night. They scream and cry every night. They often will say that their daddy is scaring them in their dreams. It's not so easy to talk them through their nightmares. Emma is so very angry at her dad, and Eva is having difficulty remembering him. I know that their little minds are doing what they need to do to process their grief. I also know, that as a mom it kills me every time I hear them cry out.
My nightmares have taken on many a form. So many times I have relived the scene as I found it, so many times we are a complete family, so many times I was able to stop the gun. I have gotten pretty good at not letting myself get to that REM sleep. I find myself growing very weary. I long for a deep sleep with no dreams. I hope and wish for peaceful slumber every night for my children. Someday peace will find itself back in our dreams. Until then, I will keep holding them tight, comforting them, and letting them know that they are so very loved. Someday sleep will come.

Case Closed

2008-11-12T21:13:00.000-08:00

Today marked the end of a heart wrenching saga and ripped open wounds that had barely begun healing. The final stamp of red ink marred the pages across the report which ended with the words "a single self-inflicted gunshot to the head." So ends the final reports on Jose's life and final acts. As my girls looked on, I took the pen with shaking hands and slowly started to scrawl my name. Tears streaming down my face, I signed the line that said it was over.

As the detective handed me the box marked evidence, my stomach wrenched so hard, it took my breath away. I knew that I was going to have to open that box and identify the gun. A glock .40 caliber pistol with night sights. It had an extra clip, 7 car bon hollow tipped bullets, and one very meaningful, spent casing. You see, I know that gun well. It was my gun. I bought it for Jose. It was a gift. The heavy smell of the gun oil, the smooth metallic sound of the slide and the crisp click as the trigger is pulled is forever etched into my memory.

As I opened the box, I heard my girls gasp. One shuddered and said " it still smells funny." Recalling the smell of gun powder after it had been fired. As they each touched the handle, I could see a myriad of emotion crossing their faces. It started with happiness as the remembered their dad and the many safety things he used to teach them about guns. Anger, hurt, longing, and sadness were soon to follow. As I scanned each of their faces, my heart was pounding in my chest, praying that they would be stronger than I and not cry. My brave girls,so young, innocence lost, looked at me and said, "It's ok mom, let's go home."

Walking out those doors with that box in my hand and my girls by my side, made me a stronger person. Strength that I keep discovering deep within my soul. I am always amazed at how often we have to recount the details of that fateful day. Today would be no different. As we piled into the car, the questions and the memories began. I am haunted by the vivid details that the girls recall. I become nauseated as they recall the acrid smell of gunpowder and am ripped back to that horrible moment when I knew nothing could be done to save my love.

So this is how it ends. According to the WJPD, the case is now closed, it's been almost a year. As I began to place this in perspective, my heart is aching and my tears are falling furiously. I know that we will continue to move forward remembering Jose and all the joy he did bring into our lives. I also know that as the girls continue to grow and understand more, I will have lots of questions and emotions hurled my way. It is now my job to provide answers, guidance, and understanding. This is going to take amazing strength. So with a heavy heart, I will reach down to the very depths of my being and pray to the Lord to give me strength and to guide me on this journey. I also hope for people in my life to prod me on when I get weary, because it will never truly be case closed.
August 7, 2008

stuff

2008-11-12T20:12:00.000-08:00

As consumers, we pride ourselves on how much "stuff" we collect over our lifetime. Plenty of bumper stickers and t-shirts proclaim,"He who has the most toys wins." We gauge our success on having more stuff than our peer group and better stuff. However, this stuff does not transcend into the afterlife with us. It is left behind as a constant reminder of what we loved and how we lived.

Jose was a great collector of stuff. He loved all of his stuff. In fact, he had stuff from when he was a very little boy stashed away. I used to call him my "pack rat." He saved every issue of car and driver magazine from the time he was 16. The same goes for guns and ammo magazines, and all other magazines he subscribed to. The reason for this, and for everything that he collected, was that he just knew he might need it someday. Now, in his defense, I must say there was more than one occasion where he would need to prove his point to someone and he would go right to the magazine that he needed, and find the article to prove his point. I was forever nagging him to get rid of some of his stuff.

Now that he is gone, I find that it's not so easy to get rid of the "stuff." At first I just ignored the stuff and spent 11 months sleeping on the couch and avoiding our bedroom. That way I didn't need to see or deal with the stuff. Eventually, I started to go through some of his clothes. I made piles of things that the girls might want, things that I could donate to the shelter, things that would fit nephews, and family members, and things that just needed to be tossed.

This was done with lots of tears and anger. Each shirt I folded held so many memories and smells. The work clothes, the "mechanic" clothes, the shooting gear, the commando gear. I went through 12 years of emotions and memories in just a few days. But I did it and thought the worst was behind me.

I still have a ton of stuff to go through. I just realized the other day, that I still had his deodorant in the bathroom , razors, all the little personal effects that go unnoticed on a daily basis. I also have little odds and ends that defined his likes and joys in life.

My husband kept every card, letter, note, list I ever made him. he also saved every little pencil mark the girls ever drew for him. I even found the first baby teeth that Analisa, Miranda, and Emma lost. He was a keeper of any heart felt gesture that we sent his way. This touched me more than I can express in words. I have started a box for these items because that is "stuff" I treasure far more than physical possessions.

There is other stuff that I can't to look at yet, such as his benchmade knife collection. He always would say that his knives were not weapons, they were tools, and he used them as such. Every knife I ever gave him he carried and used at work, hunting, or hiking. I remember watching him spend hours painstakingly sharpening the blades by hand, until the edges were perfect. He would always explain the nuances of a proper sharpening to me. Now if I would have paid attention, I could sharpen my own knives, but alas, I'm at the mercy of others on that one.

There are a few guns in his collection that I cannot bear to look at, or touch. Our first Christmas together I had given him a North American Arms mini revolver. I had also purchased a glock handgun for his birthday. The later is the one he used to take his life. That one is in the evidence box with the casing they retrieved. I can't say that I'll ever be able to look at it again.

My point, in all of this madness about stuff is this. Sentimentality is attached to everything we do, say, and collect throughout our lifetime. I think we tend to hold on to so much "stuff" because we are afraid that if we let it go, we are somehow letting go of the person we loved. My issue with a lot of the "stuff" I still have is 2 fold. First, my daughters are little. How do I know what "stuff" is going to be important to them as they get older." What if I get rid of the wrong "stuff"? My second issue is, that I'm not ready to let go. In my head I know that the stuff is just a representation and that I have all of the memories in my heart, but emotionally, I can't give it up. The day will come when I do let it go, but for now. It is comforting to have the half used deodorant in the bathroom and the 3 cases of MRE's under my bed.

Survival vs. Living

2008-11-09T18:26:00.000-08:00

There is a huge difference between surviving life and actually living it. It's an odd thing to ponder and a very daunting task to undertake. It wasn't until Tuesday, September 22, that I realized the difference (Ironically, that's Jose's birthday). Throughout the last year I was completely in survival mode. Many days I was merely going through the motions. I seemed to be coherent and cognizant, when in all reality, I wasn't comprehending much. I knew certain things had to be accomplished, children loved, fed, and cared for. Teaching had to continue, again children loved, cared for, and educated. Bills had to be paid and holidays celebrated. Family needed reassurance and strength and who better to give it? Surely that was my job as well.
I needed to have control of all aspects of my life, my children's lives, and anyone else who would let me. The need to stay busy was a driving force for all of my daily routines and responsibilities. I kept my children just as busy as I was. Busy is good. It leaves little time to think, cry, or yearn.
I made sure every milestone was marked and remembered. I acknowledged bad days, sad days, and every nightmare that accompanied them. I sat up most nights until 3 a.m. listening for my girls to whimper or cry out so that I could hold and comfort them. I made sure that we went to grief group at school and at the Sharing Place. Albeit, I was a reluctant participant at first. I was sure I had a handle on everything and was grieving quite well.
When friends would ask how we are doing, I would always say that we were fine and doing surprisingly well. When in reality, the girls were fine and I was crying for hours every day. There were days where I would start crying for no apparent reason. I would cry myself into a completely exhausted sleep every night.
This is complete and utter survival. Going through the motions of every day, just to make it to the next.
In August I started to get very anxious and couldn't figure out why I was so jittery and uneasy. I was a little panicky as our one year anniversary approached. I couldn't believe how quickly the time had gone. The day came and went and I thought for sure things would begin to get easier. Isn't that what everyone always says? "The first year is the hardest?" Who ever believes this is just setting themselves up for disappointment. A month into our second year, and I feel like I'm sinking fast. I'm running as fast as I can and getting farther behind. I am more teary eyed than I have been in a few months, and suddenly very tired.
I no longer feel the need to be so busy all the time, however I have committed to being busy for a very long time. I desperately want to climb into bed and stay there at least for one entire day if not a week or a month.
My routines of being a single parent are very well established and efficient for the most part, but I yearn for someone else to be the bad guy and disciplinarian just once. I would love for someone else to make dinner and help with homework, do soccer practice, and clean cuts and scrapes. I miss someone telling me how much history has been left out of the program on the history channel and arguing about what channel we are watching on tv and who always has control of the remote.
I'm finding a balance between what needs to be done, and what I want to do.
I just realized a few days ago, that my sudden need to control every minute of my day and to fill it with activities and stuff, was my way of stopping the pain and the grief from completely flooding my being and letting me feel. My crying jags were actually a way for me to release some pain, grief, and fears for the future.
I am struggling more now, than I did during the last year. I am feeling my loss more intensely, and in ways I didn't know were possible. This doesn't mean that I haven't grieved. It simply means that I no longer just need to survive, but that I am ready to begin living. With each passing day I am able to acknowledge my emotions better and to put them in perspective.
Do I love Jose any less? Absolutely not, however 9 years is a very short time when looking at a lifetime. I am finally able to acknowledge I am still young and that there will probably come a time when I am married to another person for longer than my marriage to Jose. I am finally ok with that.
I still have many days where I am sad and I miss him terribly. I think that I will always have those. He was a remarkable person and my life is forever changed by him. I also have days of complete joy where memories make me smile and laugh. I can finally turn the History channel on and leave it.
The rollercoaster that I have been on doesn't seem to be hurtling through the darkness as fast. It is slowly getting brighter and the twists, turns, and bumps are fewer and fewer. Do I think they will ever completly stop? Not a chance, but I do feel that I am better able to prepare for them.
Survival is all about numbly going through the motions and just getting by. Living is being aware of every emotional sting and scrape, as well as the joy and delight that happens on a daily basis. Living is a messy process with plenty of laughter to accompany it.
Survival was my past. Living is my now.

My Blessed Life

2008-11-05T18:16:00.000-08:00

For the first time in a very long time I am referring to my life as blessed. I have been lamenting the poor me card for awhile and I think that's all part of this grieving process. I don't think it's a bad thing, but getting stuck there is very detrimental to my well being and the well being of the girls.
I am so blessed to have spent 12 wonderful years with the love of my life. We have four wonderful girls that remind me of him every day. I am blessed to have experienced a love so strong and so deep that I thought my whole being would collapse when he died. He showed me how to listen with my heart and how to surrender all the worries and just "be". Along with all of that he taught me so much more about history, politics, and religion, than I ever learned throughout all of my schooling. He also taught me way more about cars, guns, video games, and safety than I ever would have bothered to learn.
Jose taught me how to rely on myself and to trust my instincts.
He was my biggest critic and my strongest supporter. The pride he used to have in his voice when he would tell people about my accomplishments would take my breath away. He sacrificed his career and his dreams so that our daughters would not have to go to day care. He sacrificed his career so that I could better mine.
The joy I would feel when he would come and visit me at school and just sit in my class and watch me teach is indescribable. Each time I was pregnant he would bring me lunch just to make sure I was eating right. He started each day by waking me up with a kiss and saying, "Good morning my lovely wife."
When I would leave to go to school or even to the store he would always say, "Be careful," and "I love you dear."
Every afternoon I would be greeted with, "How was your day, my lovely wife." That was his favorite pet name, lovely wife, or beautiful wife. He always made sure I knew how much he loved me.
Today I was attending a funeral of a young mother who passed at 28. She has 5 small children and a husband who loved her dearly. It was a unique position to be in. Having been in that front row just over a year ago, I could feel every heart wrenching emotion he was feeling. The shock, despair, sadness, and love was overwhelming. When I looked into the eyes of their children, I saw my own children and what they had experienced.
That was when I knew that I had truly had a blessed life. Then my hope and prayer for the day changed from, "Dear Lord let me get through the day." To, "Dear Lord thank you for letting me experience such a deep and amazing love. Thank you for my blessed life."

In the Silence

2008-10-26T20:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we went to Goblin Valley with Danielle, Bart, and the boys. I had never been down to explore Goblin valley and was amazed by the geological formations and the history behind how it was formed. The story that is told by each layer of sediment is absolutely amazing to me. The vibrant colors and contrasts between the rock formations and the sand were breathtaking.

We hit the ground running, literally trying to keep up with all seven kids. They were climbing everything in sight and getting braver with each new ascent.
Analisa kept testing her mountain goat like prowess and would climb steeper and higher than anyone. Peering over ledges and giving me a heart attack with each new summit. Miranda, a little more timid, but determined to test her abilities was close behind. Emma never took a breath and was darting all over the place and jumping from place to place. Eva ran just as fast as her legs would take her and screamed at anyone who would try and help her. She decided that she was a big girl and could do it herself.

I gamely followed and climbed as well. Minding my pulse and the dull thud in my chest. I would climb and rest, climb and rest. Luckily, Bart was following the kids closer than I so that nobody got out of sight. Danielle stayed with me so we could chat, and she could make sure I was doing ok.

After about an hour of rapid climbing and exploring, the pace started to slow. Bart and Eric took their own path and I was following the rest of the clan. Danielle had found a wonderful perch in the shade and was enjoying the view. Emma spotted a blue belly lizard and they were off to catch it. It was then that I sat down, looked to my right and saw the most majestic formation of the day.
The air around me stilled and everything came to a halt. As I studied that formation, I felt Jose's presence with me. In the silence I knew that he was trying to comfort me, and explain things to me at the same time. There was so much I wanted to say and ask, but all I could do is sit and listen while the tears washed down my face. His presence was like a warm blanket wrapped around me. I realized that he is finally at peace. The pain and torment are finally gone.

Hiking and exploring were Jose's favorite outdoor activities. We had always planned grandiose trips for when the girls were bigger. In those moments alone, I knew that I could still experience those moments with him. In each smile, and exclamation of wonder, with every new ascent and triumphant shout, Jose would be with us. His love of hiking and exploring all things in nature are all traits that the girls have.

In the silence I knew that as much as love and miss him and wish he could see his girls grow, his time with us was finished. I thank the Lord every day for the time we did have together and for our four wonderful girls. I thank the Lord for ending the pain and suffereing that we were all experiencing. In the last year I have come to understand that prayers are always answered. They may not be answered in the manner we would choose, but they are answered.
As I continued to cry, I could hear excited little voices getting closer and closer. The kids were back from their lizard hunting expedition. No lizard, but they did find a really cool cave. Which Analisa would not let them explore, because "You never know how deep it might drop, or what kind of animal is lurking inside." Words of wisdom her father had undoubtedly shared with her when she was little.

So, wiping the tears off of my gritty face, I chuckled, and happily followed my little explorers onto their next adventure (looking for scorpions in the sand). After a quick picnic lunch, they continued to hike and climb the entire valley. Finally, as the last rays of daylight were fading and the first stars of the evening became visible, they trudged up the path and were ready to stop for the day.
With 7 exhausted children we started out trip home. Not only did I bring back about 10 pounds of dirt, but I also brought back a renewed sense of hope and a heart and soul that are about 5 pounds lighter.

Apple Heaven

2008-10-19T20:20:00.000-07:00

I love UEA weekend as most from Utah do. I know I should say that it's because as an Educator, I have the opportunity to bond with my fellow soldiers and revel in all that is educational. NOT!! It's really because I get a chance to go away with my girls. We almost always go to Colorado to visit Grandma and Grandpa. This weekend was no exception. Our visits are becoming more precious to us because Grandpa Warren, my dad has alzheimer's and is moving into the later stages of the disease.
This weekend was jam packed with activites, friends to play with, and yes apples to pick. There are 3 or so apple trees on the little farm that my parents have. They are a favorite for everyone, even the yearling bear cub that has visited regularly this summer. Eva Grace was enthralled with all of the red apples weighing the branches down. She was out under the largest tree every chance that she got.
Grandma finally gave her the greenlight to start picking apples. Squealing with delight, she grabbed a bucket and took off as fast as those little legs would take her. She was jumping and grabbing apples withing reach and filling her bucket as fast as she could. The crisp breeze blowing her hair and lifting her squeals of delight to the mountains, she was utterly lost in the moment.
As Grandma grabbed a ladder to give her more access, she was shaking with excitement and climbing as high as she could go. I was dumbfounded standing at the base of the tree. She has been afraid to climb trees for quite sometime. I guess she just needed the right motivator. After awhile even the ladder wasn't enough and she was completely in the tree.
By this time, the other 3 girls had joined her in the tree and everyone was having a tremendous time. I never knew that apple trees could be the source of positive entertainment. My clouded memories dredged up images of my siblings and I sitting in Mrs. Clark's apple orchard like snipers, just waiting for the Kursten boys, and when they showed up, we bombarded them with hard green apples until they ran home!
I couldn't help but smile and chuckle as I listened to my girls enjoying the simplest of all entertainment. As the apples filled boxes and buckets, they continued to pick without bickering or arguing, and everyone got along. Finally, the tree stipped bare of its majestic fruit, Eva climbed down and said with a big grin, "Oh Grandma, I'm in apple heaven." I couldn't think of a better place to be at that moment. Everyone was happy and smiling and the world seemed right.

cookies

2008-10-09T21:17:00.000-07:00

When you think of cookies generally your mind conjures up an image of your favorite kind, say homemade peanut butter chocolate chunk. Your olfactory glands kick in and you can actually smell them, warm, and soft just from the oven. Imagine the texture as you pop one in your mouth, nice and chewy, crumbs lingering on your lips.
Now picture this. A cute little four year old in a denim scooter skirt and pink bow, bouncing into a room with an art project in her hands. This isn't any room, it's the sharing circle room at grief group. The group leader asks her what is on her plate. She asks this because the plate is loaded with little green circles flattened just so with buttons in the middle of each one.
"Cookies" she says. "I have to make cookies because my mom is too busy to make cookies any more."
My heart hit the floor and I began to cry. "is your mommy busy with work?" queried the group leader.
"No" she replied. "My mom is too busy because my daddy died."
Then she smiled, hugged me and said, "It's ok mommy, I can make my own cookies."
I felt like the world's worst mother. So I began to retrace my steps through the last year. I know I made every birthday cake, school treat, Church potluck, and barbeque that came along. I held big dinners for family and friends to celebrate holidays. Could it be that I neglected to make the simplest of all treats? Cookies? As I finished my recall, I was shocked to realize that in the last year, I had not made my child cookies once.
So with very heavy heart, I buckled her into the car and started on my way. We had to get back to school. She was unusually quiet on our drive back. I looked in my rear view mirror to see what she was doing,. Her head was in her hands and she had a very serious expression on her face.
So I asked her what she was doing. "Thinking" she said. I asked her if she was thinking happy or sad. "Sad" was the reply and she said no more.
Now the first rule of grief group is that they don't have to tell you what they talked about. So I didn't pry.
I sent her into class and resumed teaching mine. At 12:45 the babysitter stopped by my room and Eva clung to me. She started sobbing hysterically and I could not console her. This just about broke my heart. I finally calmed her down enough for her to tell me that she didn't want to leave me. I asked her why because we have been doing this routine for awhile now. Through her sobs she said that she didn't want to leave because she was afraid that I would die.
As I held her in my arms, paying no attention to the 20 something first graders who needed a teacher, I cried again. How is this little tiny girl supposed to ever have a normal childhood?
I finally was able to get her calmed down enough to go to the sitters house. I resumed my teaching, albeit in a very distracted manner.
So this weekend, my girls and I will make cookies. We'll make 50 batches if they want, and I vow not to overlook the simple pleasures just because I'm too busy.

Silver Lake

2008-10-05T21:04:00.000-07:00

Today was an amazing day. I was able to finally do something that I couldn't face since Jose's death. The girls and I, along with some friends went hiking. I love to hike and so did Jose. I haven't been able to go hiking without him. I still cry just looking at his hiking boots and all of his gear. He was the most well prepared hiker I've ever met. He had a gadget for every need out there. He even had a suture kit, just in case. When we hiked it was an all day adventure.
I approached today with great trepidation. I even considered canceling, but the girls were so excited I didn't want to let them down. So we packed up the car and set off on our way. I wasn't nearly as prepared as he would have been. I did make sure the girls had good shoes, jackets, and food and water.
My senses were all on high alert as we stepped out onto the path. Nothing too difficult, hiking around Silver Lake up by Brighton. I was surprised to find myself very happy to be there. The colors all around me were absolutely breathtaking. Winter was encroaching with it's cloak of new snow moving down the slopes. The Aspens were glowing gold, yellow, and orange against their stark white trunks. The greenery was very lush and vibrant. The water was smooth as glass, glistening when the sunlight would warm it's surface for a few brief moments.
Danielle understood my hesitation and was always close by in case I crumbled.
We wound our way across the wetlands and off into the woods. The trail harbored many treasures for the girls to be amazed by and Analisa wowed everyone with her science speak as we climbed. That girl has an amazing grasp on how the canyons were formed. She also found a geo chache treasure!
I seemed to be looking at fall for the very first time. The colors on the ground, reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, were the most vibrant that I remember seeing. The smell of wet earth and fresh snow filled my lungs as if I hadn't had a breath in many years.
I was awe struck when we reached the top. The view of the valley had telltale signs of summer, fall, and winter. The sun was hitting the ridges just right and the aspens were glowing. I sat on a pile of rocks just to soak it all in. As I was sitting there, I got teary eyed for the first time. I realized how much I miss Jose and how much he taught me. I was saddened that the girls wouldn't get to experience their dad's enthusiasm for hiking and his knowledge of the mountains.
As we turned to go, I hung back from the group to have some alone time with Jose. I said a prayer and started my descent. As I was hiking down to catch the others. I noticed new berries on bushes in red and white. I've seen the red, but never the white. I also found one little clump of flowers. They were the most beautiful flowers I have seen in a very long time. You see, that was Jose telling me it's going to be fine and that he is with us and helping us as we go. It's the little things that need to be noticed and appreciated. My prayer had been answered. Jose is fine and I will be too. My girls will experience their dad by experiencing things that he loved.
Happiness is coming a little at a time. It is such a bittersweet feeling for me, but I appreciate every little bit that comes my way and I don't take it for granted any longer.

My new life

2008-10-04T14:04:00.000-07:00

There is a huge difference between surviving life and actually living it. It's an odd thing to ponder and a very daunting task to undertake. It wasn't until Tuesday, September 22, that I realized the difference (Ironically, that's Jose's birthday). Throughout the last year I was completely in survival mode. Many days I was merely going through the motions. I seemed to be coherent and cognizant, when in all reality, I wasn't comprehending much. I knew certain things had to be accomplished, children loved, fed, and cared for. Teaching had to continue, again children loved, cared for, and educated. Bills had to be paid and holidays celebrated. Family needed reassurance and strength and who better to give it? Surely that was my job as well.
I needed to have control of all aspects of my life, my children's lives, and anyone else who would let me. The need to stay busy was a driving force for all of my daily routines and responsibilities. I kept my children just as busy as I was. Busy is good. It leaves little time to think, cry, or yearn.
I made sure every milestone was marked and remembered. I acknowledged bad days, sad days, and every nightmare that accompanied them. I sat up most nights until 3 a.m. listening for my girls to whimper or cry out so that I could hold and comfort them. I made sure that we went to grief group at school and at the Sharing Place. Albeit, I was a reluctant participant at first. I was sure I had a handle on everything and was grieving quite well.
When friends would ask how we are doing, I would always say that we were fine and doing surprisingly well. When in reality, the girls were fine and I was crying for hours every day. There were days where I would start crying for no apparent reason. I would cry myself into a completely exhausted sleep every night.
This is complete and utter survival. Going through the motions of every day, just to make it to the next.
In August I started to get very anxious and couldn't figure out why I was so jittery and uneasy. I was a little panicky as our one year anniversary approached. I couldn't believe how quickly the time had gone. The day came and went and I thought for sure things would begin to get easier. Isn't that what everyone always says? "The first year is the hardest?" Who ever believes this is just setting themselves up for disappointment. A month into our second year, and I feel like I'm sinking fast. I'm running as fast as I can and getting farther behind. I am more teary eyed than I have been in a few months, and suddenly very tired.
I no longer feel the need to be so busy all the time, however I have committed to being busy for a very long time. I desperately want to climb into bed and stay there at least for one entire day if not a week or a month.
My routines of being a single parent are very well established and efficient for the most part, but I yearn for someone else to be the bad guy and disciplinarian just once. I would love for someone else to make dinner and help with homework, do soccer practice, and clean cuts and scrapes. I miss arguing with someone about what channel we are watching on tv and who always has control of the remote.
I'm finding a balance between what needs to be done, and what I want to do.
I just realized a few days ago, that my sudden need to control every minute of my day and to fill it with activities and stuff, was my way of stopping the pain and the grief from completely flooding my being and letting me feel. My crying jags were actually a way for me to release some pain, grief, and fears for the future.
I am struggling more now, than I did during the last year. I am feeling my loss more intensely, and in ways I didn't know were possible. This doesn't mean that I haven't grieved. It simply means that I no longer just need to survive, but that I am ready to begin living. With each passing day I am able to acknowledge my emotions better and to put them in perspective.
Do I love Jose any less? Absolutely not, however 9 years is a very short time when looking at a lifetime. I am finally able to acknowledge I am still young and that there will probably come a time when I am married to another person for longer than my marriage to Jose. I am finally ok with that.
I still have many days where I am sad and I miss him terribly. I think that I will always have those. He was a remarkable person and my life is forever changed by him. I also have days of complete joy where memories make me smile and laugh. I can finally turn the History channel on and leave it.
The rollercoaster that I have been on doesn't seem to be hurtling through the darkness as fast. It is slowly getting brighter and the twists, turns, and bumps are fewer and fewer. Do I think they will ever completly stop? Not a chance, but I do feel that I am better able to prepare for them.
Survival is all about numbly going through the motions. Living is being aware of every emotional sting and scrape, as well as the joy and delight that happens on a daily basis. Living is a messy process with plenty of laughter to accompany it.
Survival was my past. Living is my now.