One Step Closer

It was Friday around 3pm when the world stood still. The trees rustled with leaves of yellow and orange hues against their dark trunks. For that brief moment in time there were only two people who existed standing next to each other on a cool, damp afternoon. The sounds of the day were muted with only the sounds of one man and his beating heart. Images flashed before my eyes like I was reliving all that I had gone through through the last few years. 

In an instant I was brought to the day that I had convinced myself that I would never be in another relationship; that the idea of being a single-mom for the rest of my life was not only God's plan, but a plan that I could live with. How was I ever going to love when my life was filled with so much fear and loss? How was I going to share my life with someone when my heart had built a wall to protect not only myself, but the love I shared with someone else? The person who was my whole world, my friend, my everything. I was afraid to ever love and open myself up to anyone again because I was afraid of being hurt by something so out of my control. Little did I know, that understand why I closed myself off was just one step closer to unlocking all the pain and really listening to what God's (the universe, whatever it is you put your faith into) plan for me was.

It was a Saturday that I went on a run that changed my life. God shut down all the outside noise of my iPod so that he and I could talk. And I could really listen. My mind was cleared of all that stood in front of me and I was left with just the words and signs that God, the universe or whatever it is you believe in put in front of me that morning. I finished that run and fought back tears that I not only finished a 5k (my first ever), but there was a release that happened when I crossed that finish line. Fear started to leave and it was filled slowly with strength and reaffirmation of my faith. My eyes were open for the first time in a long time and the sounds that I forced myself not to hear started to make a faint and distant sound. I was one step closer to releasing all the misconceptions that I forced myself to believe in. 

On a vacation trip with my family I woke up one morning and started to realize how much someone meant in my life. When I thought about him I wanted to text him and see how his day was going, but I was still so full of doubt. Doubt in letting myself go somewhere I didn't think I could ever come back from. Doubt over the idea that my heart may fall and break into a million pieces all over again. Maybe it was better to just keep myself walled up on the inside. Safe from all that could possibly happen. Little did I know that I was one step closer to letting everything go. 

On a January afternoon I sat at my computer and let my fingers run across a keyboard trying to explain to the world how I was with a man I had nicknamed "The MusicMan". I was again flooded with the idea of fear. How people would react? I was scared that some might find it disrespectful and others would be too overjoyed. As my fingers danced over letters and my eyes darted with each word, my mind processed it all and I was filled with a sense of joy, happiness and peace. I was writing about a man that not only cared about me and my son, but respected all that we had gone through. 

He was the one who taught me that the package deal I had always thought was just Ethan and I was a complete misconception on my part. The package deal was me, Ethan and Christopher. He taught me that people have a past and it can't be ignored but cherished for how it molds the person they are to become and will be in life. At times, I felt like I was in a fairy tale that I would wake up and find everything wasn't real. How could this man be so compassionate towards what I went through and yet so strong to put up with me and my sometimes emotional hurricanes that blew through from time to time? But he did and he brought me one step closer to understanding that I didn't need to know everything in God's plan, I just needed to put faith in myself and trust in that there is one. 

He supported me through the 5ks we ran, the life choices I made for Ethan and myself and and even when I changed the way I ate he found ways to keep me on track. When I was hard on myself he would come over and tell me to look at him, and to gaze upon his eyes was hard. For in them I saw the way he sees me. Strong. Gentle. Loving. Bull-headed. A Fighter. A Mother. Independent. Rough around the edges. Sometimes full of fear. Yet with the gentle touch of his hand and the way pushes my hair around my ear all that leaves me and am replaced with peace. In that brief moment I am allowed to be transparent and all that consumed me to be let go. I am allowed to be me. The "d" I thought I once lost. I was just one step closer to understanding what this man meant to me. 

It was a cool September morning that the MusicMan and I ran a 5k together and ran it side-by-side. It was in that run that my heart swelled with such joy and happiness. Here was a man that supported me in so many ways that my words often fail me when I want so desperately to explain to him that everything he does for me and what it means to deepest recesses of my soul. Here in that run was the physical manifestation of everything that he had done for me. By my side: when life speeds up, slow downs, feels like an uphill climb or downhill coast; he is there by my side pushing me through when I need it the most. 

In his eyes I find the grace and beauty this world has. The touch of his hand takes away all my worries and fears and replaces them with peace.  There isn't a morning that goes by that before my eyes have opened and my feet hit the floor that I haven't already thanked God, the universe, or whatever it is you believe in that the MusicMan is apart of mine and Ethan's life. His love and support truly has brought me one step closer to where I am today. At peace and happy.

It was a Friday around 3pm when the world stood still at the Dallas Museum of Art. While all these images flashed before me and where I had come from; the journey this world has brought me through; I watched in awe as the man who had helped me, supported me, let my tears and sobs fill his ears, knelt down on one knee before the battleground of memories that flashed before me. His gentle eyes gazing up at me; he uttered the words, 

"You make my life beautiful as the work of art that sits here. Will you always make my life beautiful? Denise will you marry me?"

I fought to hold back the tears that wanted to push through and enjoyed the moment of how time stool still for us. I took one step closer and hugged him. I could feel both our hearts beating fast in rhythm with each other. Every breath, every sigh, every tear that had been ever shed during every hour of every day and every year had come to this... 

My heart grew to include another who's love was different; yet equal in it's strength. God's plan that had laid out over the course of time was unveiling it's self briefly to me that even with great sorrow there is always a plan. One only needs to trust in it; to put all of themselves to it.

I've overcome so much and in that I've had the strength of one man to show me what it meant to be loved by the inside out and what love feels like from the inside out. I learned how to be a fighter and never let the world take from me what means the most to me and Ethan. Then I was blessed to have another man come into my life that showed me what great friendship means and how love can be found again when you least expect it. How letting yourself be loved is sometimes the most difficult task, but when you allow yourself to tear down the walls that surround your heart and open yourself up; another great love can be brought to you. Everything in time. One step closer to God's plan.

(ps... I did say yes and my little muppet is to the moon and back with excitement!)

A Muppet's Perspective

I know I haven't written in awhile. Life with a six-year-old can be one where days seem to pass with the blink of an eye and I'm left wondering where all the time went. October 12th was the 4 year anniversary of Christopher's passing and the day that I made (in my own eyes) a brave choice. I won't lie, I prayed for months over this. It wasn't easy. In fact, it was gut wrenching at times. My stomach twisted and turned with the pros and cons of what it meant to me and Ethan. My mind went back and forth with "should I?" or "shouldn't I?" In the end, I chose the answer to be "yes"… On that fateful Friday (October 12th) I explained in my words, and the only way my soul would let me, to Ethan what made that day special… that on that day 4 years ago his dad left this mortal plane and went to heaven. 

Up to this point I always made that day special for him and I. I have always taken that day off to remember the sacrifice and fight that Christopher made for us. Working (for me) on that day seems trite and I choose to fill it full with reflection, meditation, running and enjoying the little things with my Muppet. For Ethan this day means being able to ride his bike to school, lunch with mommy and a trip to visit daddy and partake in some cupcakes (i.e. - cupcakes with daddy). Up to this point I made the day special without ever sharing "why". It was just special in it's own right. 

Why did I do this? Well for one, I didn't want Ethan's life to pass through the whirlwind of time we all get caught up in and never know or understand what October 12th meant to us. For him. I never wanted him to look back and ask why I kept that day to myself and in return possibly mark his life with feelings of death being something horrible and to never be spoken of aloud. I've always been very upfront with Ethan on everything else concerning his father and it just seemed like it was time to explain and bring everything full circle into Ethan's understanding. This moment has always weighed heavily on my mind because I knew the day would eventually come. I wasn't sure when that day would come, but at some point I knew it needed to be explained. And I needed to do it soon. I didn't want time to pass between me and my thoughts; then one day Ethan knows because he can read the marker that sits so perfectly where his dad is laid to rest.

Every choice I've made in my life has always come with a reflection of what that choice meant to Ethan. To me. To the both of us. I have always been cautious, always looking at both sides of everything before I made my choice. I consulted my therapist. Ethan's play therapist. I prayed over and over for guidance in something that I knew only I would know the answer too. I knew that only I would know if the time was right and if Ethan could handle it. 


During the week leading up to this Friday I was a rubber band of nerves. Some days stretched me to my emotional limit while other days bounced quickly back from other emotions that flooded my mind. But that week was consumed with the thoughts of how I was going to explain this to my little Muppet. As I drove home with Ethan during that week, we talked about his days at school; the highs and lows of his day.  From the back of the car there was a brief moment of silence then, "Ummm, Mommy…. you know Friday is donuts with dad at school?"

My eyes rolled swiftly back behind my sunglasses and my heart sank. The school puts on a book fair kickoff with a morning where Dad's come to school with their kids to partake in donuts and walk through the book fair (emotional marketing at it's finest). I responded after a brief pause with, "Oh really…." To be honest I wasn't sure what to say because the correlation between the fact that I was going to break some rather big news to my little Muppet on the day he was asking about blew my mind. My thoughts were interrupted with, "Mommy, do you think Mr (MusicMan) would go with me? If he can't it's ok… maybe he can just bring me donuts that day if he comes over?" 

My eyes slowly, yet quickly, flooded with tears that I wouldn't let fall. Here was my muppet who knew his dad was in heaven and yet he has a bond with the MusicMan that is so very special that he would ask if he could go with him to Donuts with Dad. I told him that Mr (MusicMan) was going to come over that night and that he should ask him if he would like to go. Ethan quickly ended with an "ok" and moved onto the next topic that happened at school that randomly floated into his head at that moment.

Meanwhile, my head started to turn and swirl with everything that was leading up to a day I wasn't sure if I could tell Ethan how the day we were approaching made it special to us…. That night Ethan did ask the MuiscMan to go with him to "Donuts with Dad" and I was so very blessed that the MusicMan's response was one I wasn't expecting. He calmly told Ethan that he needed to talk to me about it and he would let him know. Then while Ethan took a shower the MusicMan turned to me and asked me my feelings on it. He expressed how he didn't want to invade into the day knowing what it meant and what I was about to tell Ethan on that day, but he would be more than happy to take Ethan to Donuts with Dad if I was ok with it. 

My soul swelled with pride. Pride for a man that not only respects me and Ethan, but the memory of someone he never even knew. There was no explaining to him all the thoughts that ran into my head. He already knew them because he puts Ethan and I first in his life. And that made my response even easier. I didn't have to think about it, I already knew that if Ethan wanted it and the MusicMan - I wanted it for them. I knew that the MusicMan wanted to do this for my Muppet and that makes the bond between them even more special in my heart.

The MusicMan jumped off the sofa with a swiftness and walked over the bathroom door and yelled into bathroom to Ethan that he would be happy to take him. My heart beat with a proudness in both these men. One for the little man who loves life with so much zest and zeal that it shows in the twinkle of his eye and his soft little sighs. And for the man who loves both of us for not only us, but what we have been through. For a man who thinks about how we will feel and walks with those emotions with a firm foot and soft step. 

Friday morning the MusicMan came over around 6:30am and took Ethan off to school for the morning donut event. I went for a run. 

My run was once again filled with memories; good and bad. Filled with thoughts of all the blessings in my life that God, the universe or whatever it is you believe in brought into my life. I had an amazing love with a man who fought tooth and nail for me and our child. He showed me that strength comes from within. 

I thought about all the people that were and are in our lives; who where there for us helping us when times got rough. The kindest of strangers that flooded my house for months with food, blessings, cards, and more than I could have ever imagined. 

Thoughts of where life has taken me. How at that very moment a man was sitting eating donuts with my Muppet and I knew in his heart he was enjoying every moment. He wasn't replacing Christopher, just picking up where Christopher couldn't. 

My mind started building a stage where I could see my Muppet and MusicMan sitting across from each other talking about Batman and Star Wars. I could see Ethan's little laugh and the MusicMan's smile in the conversation. I could see beyond all else the bond these two had. From there I drifted into a conversation with Christopher where I expressed some things I was holding onto. Things that are private to me and him, but I needed to share with him my thoughts and let go some of the pain over his cancer I carried around. I told him I knew he was in a better place - one filled with light and love. 

I went on to explain to him that I felt like the Widow from the bible who goes and gives all her money to a temple treasury. How Jesus explained to his followers that "this poor widow cast more in than all that have cast into the treasury; for they all cast in of their abundance, but she of her want cast in all that she had, even all her living." 

I reached a point in my life where I knew, to understand and be at peace with everything in my life, I needed to give my all into my healing, to opening my heart and most of all the faith in God's plan. I knew that while I could always give what I felt comfortable with; it wouldn't be what was right and healthy for Ethan or I. I needed to be that widow in the temple and just give all that I had, even all of my living…

That day I ran 3.3 miles for the 33 years of Christopher's life. 

The rest of the day was filled with meditation and lunch with my Muppet. After lunch I picked him up from school and we came home. After a little snack I asked him to sit with me. I thought for a moment I would chicken out and remembered my conversation with Christopher and the widow from the bible. I asked Ethan if he knew why this day was so special. 

"Ummm, because we get cupcakes with Daddy?" he replied. I smiled and said, "well yes… sorta." I went on and explained how his dad on this day lost his battle with cancer, but not because he didn't try, because he tried really hard, but in the end it wasn't God's plan. I explained how on this day he went to heaven and that is what makes this day special.


Ethan quickly looked at me and smiled with his impish little grin and said, "so it's Daddy's birthday!"

Ummm, what? Say what? My mind raced with what did I explain wrong? How of all things did Ethan get that today was his dad's birthday? Then before I could fathom how to word my response Ethan put his hand on mine and said…

"Mommy today is Daddy's birthday because today is the day he went to heaven. So it's his birthday into heaven. Right?"

My heart swelled with the thought that my child is sometimes wiser than his years at times and how it's in his perspective that I've learned so much. I was expecting tears, confusion, something other than the epiphany that this day was Daddy's birthday into heaven. Such a positive twist that I never even thought to consider. A perspective that only my Muppet would have. 

That little moment that I spent so much of my time dwelling over and making me sick at times was over and gone in an instant. It was again as if God, the universe or whatever it is you believe in was telling me that when you give yourself over to the things you can't control, it all works out in the end. Sometimes it's just takes a new little perspective…

Pax.

Life, Hope and Faith

I’m a Christian. I’m sure anyone who reads this blog can tell that I believe in God and anyone who also reads this blog knows that I also give respect to other peoples beliefs (God, the universe or whatever it is you put your faith into). I don’t normally like to talk about my relationship with God because it’s personal, special, and between him and I. I believe that each person’s relationship with what they believe in is one that only they understand and with that I don’t like to share too much about my own relationship with God and my faith.

But it’s been four years…four years since I laid my ear to Christopher’s chest and didn’t hear his heart beat.

It’s been four years since I watched a nurse dump pills and medication down my kitchen sink and yet held out a bottle of sleeping pills and told me I would need them.

It’s been four years since I watched friends and family come to my door step with solace on their faces over the situation that was brought to us.

It’s been four years since the first time I ever had to explain to a 2 year old that his daddy was in heaven.

A lot has changed in four years. I’ve dealt with a lot of stuff that I don’t wish on anyone. Things that I personally wish I didn’t have to deal with nor do I ever hope those situations come back into my life.

When Christopher passed, all my thoughts were consumed with “what do I do now?” “How do I do this?” Yes, while friends and family are there to help out when they can, they are not the ones who struggle with the idea of raising a child on their own. Or figuring out how to be the mom and the dad and answering those tough questions that sometimes come out of my muppet’s mouth. And with all of this; struggling with the ongoing conversation between God and I.

Recently I’ve been spending a lot of time looking back. Letting my mind wander through daydreams that were once my nightmares. Seeing how far I’ve grown as a person: spiritually and personally. Like I stated in my last blog post, I’m not the same person I was 4 or 5 years ago and yet there are important parts of me are still very much held firmly in my mind and soul.

I won’t lie, anyone that reads this blog could tell you that this has been a long, sometimes arduous road, one filled with moments where I didn’t know or understand what path in life I was meant to take after the loss of what seemed like my whole entire life. Christopher was my everything and I was left to figure out how life moves forward without him in this new normal.

I failed a lot. I cried a lot. There were moments where I felt completely alone in all of this even though I was surrounded by my friends and family.

But through all of this I had a guide. Someone who never gave up on me. Someone that when I was unsure of all that life was throwing at me would shine down a light and point me so gently in a direction. I may not have chosen his paths all the time, but that’s the beauty of it. He's gracious if you fail; it just means there is another chance for him to point you in the way you need to go. One more lesson that he can teach you in the interim.

For those who haven’t figured it out, I’m not talking about the MusicMan or my parents. I’m referring to God. I think it’s important for anyone who goes through grief to know that we (God & I) didn’t have it easy those first few years.

I like to think that God is one of my best friends (in a way). You would do anything for your best friends and yet some times those best friends make choices you wouldn't choose and while you still love them through and through, you just don’t understand why they did what they did or agree wholeheartedly with their choices.

That was me…and the relationship that I had with God. I never renounced him from my heart, but I didn’t agree with his plan. Shortly after Christopher passed I would look up to heavens and ask why? Why did he have to take one person in the world who completely understood me and knew me from the inside out? Why would a friend put me through so much pain and in such a deep fog?

It took years of healing and working on myself to understand and see the little things that he brought to my life to understand that I’m not meant to “get” everything. And it’s more than ok to play the bullheaded card with God because it’s just another way for him to grow the bond between the two of you.

So I recently started writing a letter to God. It feels fitting since shortly after Christopher passed I wrote a letter to him and went outside and burned it. I let the flames of my words rise to the heavens above and let him know just how I felt about everything. In return I believe he took the last few years trying to show me things that have helped me heal. His little signs for me along the way that sometimes I missed and other times I completely got right away.

This time of year is normally reserved for a letter to Christopher, but this year I think I need to share with people my letter to God. So that anyone who’s going through anything that leaves them feeling alone in this world because they have had to question their faith (or the path God, the universe or whatever it is they believe in) know and understand they weren’t alone in all of this. I went through it too.

To My Lord,

So much time as gone by since my last letter and yet we talk daily, but never about my first letter. I know that you don’t avoid the topic; you have always found ways of letting me know I was never alone in all of this and that there was a “plan” so to speak.

So why do I bring it up now? Four years later? Because in all that was brought to my life you made me into someone I didn’t really think I could ever become. I’m stronger: mentally, physically and spiritually.

I won’t lie. It’s has been rough. You and I haven’t had the easiest path. If confusion and torment had a face, it would have been mine. My eyes were the home of a soul that thought it would never find peace. And when you took my grandmother just ten days later I looked at my reflection in a hospital window and told you I was tired of this game you played with my life.

I spent years trying to climb the steps back to healing that were once the relationship that we had. There were times I begged and even tried to threaten you to heal my pain. I spent countless hours trying to understand the “why” and “what does it all mean?” I tried so hard to believe in your plan that I overlooked all your signs in life and it left me cold on the inside at times.

But you never gave up on me. You left me sign after sign that you were there and that there was a plan. It took almost a year for me to open my eyes and see the first sign. But I did. And once I saw it and you and I talked on that fateful run and you have left more and more along my path for me to see.

I never thought I would end up here; never did I think I would be standing where I am. Happy. At peace. And while I don’t always get it, I see the little blessings that my life may not have without your signs.

You led me to confront demons that I always allowed to just pass me by and shovel them in the deep recesses of a closet in the hopes of never dealing with them. But you forced me to open the door and confront them head on. You made me realize that doing what is easy to appease others isn’t always the right thing to do and you gave me the strength to stand up for what I believe in as a mother and a woman. It wasn’t easy. But it made me stronger – it made me a fighter.

You gave me the greatest little gift anyone can have in my Muppet. He’s such an amazing little boy and I know that you and he have a very special bond that I could never fully express in words, but know that I can see it in the twinkle of his eye and in the expressions of his questions when he asks about your life and that of Jesus Christ. He may not know all your prayers by heart – but trust me when I say that his heart is filled with your glory. And I thank you for that.

You gave me a wonderfully loving man in Christopher; someone who fought tooth and nail to be here for Ethan and I. His love was deep, pure and amazing. It was like a warm blanket you can’t wait to embrace. He was honorable and an amazing father. Ethan is so blessed to have a part of Christopher with him.

You brought me into a life that I thought wasn’t meant for me. And yet with that you also brought me a friend who was always there to listen and bring me comfort. Again, one of your little signs that life moves forwards when he explained how his family went through the same thing just a generation before. You blessed the MusicMan with so much compassion and grace. In him I learned to love again. And through the relationship we have had from friendship to dating you have re-taught me how special life can be again. You showed me how in all of this I am not alone. Other people go through this too. We just have to open our eyes to those around us and truly get to know them, not judge them.

God, you never gave up on me and I thank you for that. You gave me strength. You gave me determination. You built back the relationship that I knew we once had and you even made it stronger. You let me vent my frustrations over your plan and in return you never gave up showing me that in everything there is a peace and you would never take me anywhere that your grace wouldn’t help me through. You taught me what it means to truly work on myself from the inside out. Mentally, physically and spiritually.

For all of this I thank you. I love you. My heart is filled with your grace. And in return I will always continue to work on our relationship to make it stronger – from the inside out.

Four years later…I don’t always get it…but I am thankful for everything you brought me through and helped me through.

Pax,
-d

4 Years Later. My Advice to Myself.

Four years ago my life and that of my family changed with one little phone call. One little worry that haunted in the back of my head; which turned into an epic moment that while parts are a blur, I still have my moments of clarity that sometimes still haunt my daydreams through to my nightmares. 

In less than 5 minutes I was told that the one I love(d) would die. That the child who slumbered so peacefully above my head in his crib would grow up not knowing his father and that I at the age of 31 would feel the sting of burring my husband and struggle with the new responsibility and title of "single mom". This was a day that, while was always a possibility, I never let wander into my head for more than a minute or two. Why? Because the emotions that were chained to that thought were heavy, daunting and unspeakable in my sutto happy-go-lucky life. Simply; I didn't think I was strong enough to handle them. Yet, here I was. Forced to let that emotion not only sit for more than the allot wait time, but what would feel like an eternity in my soul. 

Little did I know that four years later while driving into work I would look back on where I was and how far I've come. At stop lights, as music ran through my head and wrapped around my daydreams would I realize how much I've truly grown and changed. How, to be honest, I am not the same person I was 4 (or even 5) years ago. While there are certain basics values instilled in me that hasn't changed; my overall view of allot is no where near the same. I'm the same person, only I've learned to take that tough exterior that kept me safe from ever feeling joy and happiness has soften and the cracks have allowed this sandpaper like me be wore down.

I'm still "d". Fun loving. Overly sarcastic at times. Loving. Compassionate. Mothering. Friend. Artist. I still love to dye my hair weird colors and  wonder through my daydreams of a world where I just might live in my own dream-able Hogwarts. I still love to sit in art exhibits and ponder over how the artist came to the painting that sits before me. Was it something they passed everyday and felt compelled to save it's imagery for generations to see? Or was it something more mystical? Something that spoke to them on a level that only they would understand and no matter how much I ever gaze upon the strokes of paint I will never grasp their reasons as to "why this moment in time?"

I am still that "d" that finds the secret to life (for me) can be found in the little moments of life that others might let slip by without taking two seconds to enjoy them. Sipping a warm cup of coffee while I walk my muppet to school. Watching Ethan's face as he catches me trying to sneak up on him when I pick him up from his after school program. Listening to the sweet sound of Ethan's voice as he expresses randomly and exponentially how cool something was at school. The way Ethan drops his head when something is bothering him and only I know what that means. It's in those little moments watching Ethan's team soccer play a game and he turns to find me in the crowd and holds up his little fingers to tell me the score with his sheepish little grin. It's in those little moments when I read his bed time story and he curls up next to me and I can hear his little heart beat as he sighs his loving little sighs. 

I am still the "d" that wants her life to be filled with great memories. A life with little moments that not only remind me of who I am, where I came from, but what I hold in my heart to be true in my values and faith. A life filled with love, light and happiness. Life filled with a balance of everything this world has to offer me. 

However, with all that hasn't changed; allot has. And not because I wanted it to, or needed to, but I changed as life changed with me. I challenged my faith; had conversations with God that will always and only between him and I. I grew stronger in what I know, believe and call my faith. I am a woman of God who puts her life in his hands and yet also knows that God helps those who work to help themselves because they give themselves to him. He can show us a path; but it's up to ourselves to choose to walk that path; learning and living rather than complaining about the speed bumps along the way. 

I am the woman who found that dating and putting yourself out there isn't worth it with the wrong man. Then there is the friend who you have grown to know, become best friends, care about, then love. The friend that was there to listen as a complete stranger as I explained how everything happened in my life and reminds me of the moments in life that helped bring me to who I am today. The stranger that became a friend, then a best friend, and now someone that life holds a new adventure and meaning. Finding that life can have balance between two men that are held in a heart that I didn't think could grow and yet has expanded over time to hold both so close. 

I am "d". I am strong. Loving. Ever changing and yet remaining stead fast with everything I hold to be true that makes me, me. I can look back on life now and say, "Look where I came from. Look what I've done over these four years. Look at how with all the struggle, I worked to keep my head healed high." I am the person that if I could go back four years ago I would take that "d" that had crumbled to the floor and pick her up. I would force her to look at me and I would tell her this,

"You are stronger than you know. Right now feels like the end of the world and right now, it is. It's the close of something that you hold so dear and cherish with all your heart. But it's not the end. 

You have the most wonderful little boy who will lift you up when your down; I promise. His little smile will bring a level of joy back to your heart that you thought might never come back. But it will come back; over time. 

While you will struggle with friendship; they are still your friends and in time they will grow with you. They don't understand certain moments in your life, but that is because they have never gone through what you will go through. You will make it through this. 

There will be ups. There will be downs. There will battlegrounds that leave your knees bloody from praying so hard for things to change; for life to get easier and that physical pain that is held in your heart to subside. But it will. You will fight for it. And it might not feel worth the fight; but it will be. You will no longer be that girl that sits at the curb waiting for life to hand you what it holds for you. You will be the one that lights her path with a gallon of gas and a match stick. There will no more be waiting, you will take charge of all of your emotions and know what it feels like to feel in control again.

You will learn to love again and that man will respect you, Christopher and Ethan. He will be the one that opens your eyes to the fact that you and Ethan aren't the package deal like you thought you were - it's you, Ethan and Christopher. That man's love will show you what's it like to want to look forward and not down. His family will guide you in how you could only dream of being accepted by those around you who just a generation before went through something similar. That family will open your eyes in more ways than years of therapy will ever help. 

But besides all this - you will have to want to fight for all of it - and you will. At times you will think certain battles are lost while others you come out swinging. You will be amazed just how far you will come in life and in your own personal strengths. You will again know what it's like to love life from the inside out again. Just know. Four years later… you are ok."

Clarity

In life, we all have that one topic that keeps our minds running in circles. Bouncing from one thought to the other. Always wondering in the back of our mind if we are over thinking the random snippets of thought or possibly just too lazy to care (or too scared to make a choice that just might impact our lives). I promise you everyone does it. On some level or another, it happens at some point in our lives. From "should I eat in or out?" To "is this choice that I make for myself and/or my child the right one?"

A few months ago, Ethan turned 6. A big whopping, needs-two-hands-to-show-you-how-old-he-is, SIX. (Can I just say where did the time go?) This year's theme was Angry Birds and I was informed by the Angry Bird Master himself (aka Ethan) that I happen to have designed his invite with a sub-par Pig and Yellow Bird…. Sigh, everyone is a critic…. But I digress. This birthday was not only special to Ethan but for me as well. This year we got to celebrate Ethan's birthday with Christopher's Aunt V!

Now for those who don't know the family dynamic; Christopher's mother who passed away had two sisters, V & S. For the sake of this post and for my own personal reasons, we will just call them V & S. Both of these beautiful women did the readings at our wedding and Aunt V did Christopher's eulogy. These two women were the closest thing Christopher had to family that made him feel the way one should feel with family: loved and special to be a part of their lives. They never asked for anything, nor did they ever expect anything from us but our love. These two women meant more to Christopher than I think they will ever know.

A little over a year go Christopher's Aunt S passed away. To say it was tragic was an understatement. There had been so much loss in the family already between the two sisters that my heart broke into a million pieces. I was left speechless, unsure as to what to do or what to say. I coped with it the best I could, but I won't lie, losing her was hard and brought back a lot of memories of emotional upheaval I felt when Christopher passed. Most of all I knew this would be hard on Aunt V. Her last sister gone. Just makes me sad as I sit here and type this post.

But I was blessed and elated when Aunt V asked if she could come down for Ethan's birthday. I was so excited to see her again being that the last time I saw her was at Christopher's funeral and I was even more excited for her to see Ethan who had grown up a lot in the last 4 years. I couldn't wait for her to see his little personality and how much at times he reminds me of Christopher. But I was also scared. Scared that things would get brought up that I had made my mind up on and wasn't planning on moving from my stance. Other than a few emails and phone calls here and there, we didn't really talk about the other side of Christopher's family dynamic and the choices I had made on that front. I was worried that she might have talked to said parties in question and was going to lecture me on how wrong I was or what I should do instead. Or was she going to side with me and support me in my choices? Would she find the man I'm dating repulsive? Or think he's nice? Would she think that I'm too strict with Ethan or not strict enough?

Yes, my mind floated in and out of all the possibilities that one could possibly think of (and I even think I thought of some some people would never think of). It's just sort of how my mind works - think of all possible scenarios and work every plan of attack from that point on. It's exhausting and I'm seriously trying not to be so anal with my thoughts when it comes to this aspect of my life - but then again it's the only way I know to protect myself emotionally. Sad to say.

I picked Aunt V up at the airport and my heart skipped a beat. It was so good to see her and see her smile. We talked the whole way home without stopping about what is going on in my life, in hers and her kids. It was like those 4 years that had passed didn't exist. She bonded with Ethan quickly and he to her. They had so much fun spending time together and bonding over playground and pool antics that it warmed my heart to see Ethan connect to her so quickly.

After Ethan's party (which turned out amazing if I do say so myself) on the last day before Aunt V had to leave she and I went out to see Christopher. We drove out and sat next to his grave and talked for a few hours. We shared our fears, regrets and hopes. She talked about all the things she wished she would have done differently for Christopher and I shared how much he loved and admired his Aunts. We talked about the topics I was afraid might come up and she supported me in my choices and told me that as a Mom she knew that what I was doing was right.

We talked about the man I am dating and how my love for him would never be exactly the same as the love I have/had for Christopher. But that the new love in my heart, while it felt different, was equally as vast and just as comforting. She talked about her own life and how while she didn't lose a spouse to death, she understood the struggles of moving forward in life. She commented on how proud she was of me for everything that I have done for Ethan and in my life - keeping Christopher's memory alive and yet still moving forward with life.

In the passing days after she left, I started to question this little part of me that has always been in the back of my mind. Balance. How do I gracefully balance the life I had with one man that I cared so deeply for with this new man whom each day my feelings grow stronger? How do I respect both equally? Was I really doing the great job that Aunt V said I was doing? Or was I just fooling myself? It's a question that pops up from time to time in my mind and just sits there. Circling around like a shark to it's prey waiting for the right moment to attack the mental swimming's that float in my head.

Then while Ethan was on the start of his vacation with my parents the Music Man and I had had a conversation one night about our grandparents and how much they meant to us; how much our lives were shaped by who they were. Shortly after that with no Muppet to worry about Music Man called me and asked if I wanted to take a short little drive to visit his Grandfather's grave. He hadn't been there in almost eight years and after our conversation he felt the urge to go. So we did.

The drive took a little over and hour and we talked the whole way about all the great memories we had with our Grandparents and shared funny little stories. When we got to the cemetery the Music Man was unsure of where the grave actually was. He told me to look for his Grandfather's name and how he would be next to the grave of a man named "so and so". My first thought was; funny how he can remember the name of the guy his grandfather is buried next to, but not where his grandfather is buried?"

After walking around and looking for a good 30 minutes we found his grandfather. I placed a flower that I had brought from my backyard and placed it on his marker. As I looked to the right I saw the other head stone of his neighbor with the name we were suppose to look for as well. As I looked at the birth and death date I realized how young this other man was when he died. Maybe 27 at the most. As my mind drifted with how sad it was that this other man lost his life at 27; my thoughts were interrupted.

"That was my Grandmother's first husband," said the Music Man.

I turned and looked him with what I'm sure was the most questioning and confused look.

"They are buried side-by-side?" I asked.

"Yeah."

We soon left and I started to realize how eye opening this trip was for me. It was God's (the Universe, whatever it is you believe in) way of giving me a nudge. Pushing me through all those mental road blocks that I had put in my mind for my thoughts and emotions to trip over. Here was a woman who lost her husband, had a young child, and move forward with her life. Here was a woman who had so much balance in her life that the two men she love(d) and adore(d) are buried side-by-side. Equals. Equals in love and stature. This moment in my life was eye-opening, inspiring and just what I needed.  

After we left there we went out and grabbed a bite to eat and beer. I explained to the Music Man that while I knew this trip was for him; I some how felt like it was for me as well. It was the visual explanation that I needed to help me that life does have balance. The only person keeping me from that balance is myself.

Dating is hard. Dating being a widow is even harder. You second guess yourself all the time. Am I doing the right thing for my child? For myself? Is this the person I want to be a role model for my child? And the answer always boils down to this. As long as you have balance and know that in your heart this person fits your values, respects your memories of those gone, supports you in every way that challenges you to always be a better person and in return you do the same for them; then yes, you are doing the right thing. You are with the right person. You have found that balance that life needs and sometimes you just have to step back and see it from a different set of eyes.

I needed that talk with Aunt V to help me understand that to keep life moving forward I needed to forgive myself for my mental mishaps and challenge myself to push through the random hunting's of my mind. I needed to be there for the Music Man to see that in his life his Grandmother found a balance between the man that was taken so quickly and the man that everyone called Granddad. I needed to see that here was a family that accepts that their life was a little different and respects that God put them on this path. I needed to see all of this. I thank God everyday that he gave me those days and the clarity to understand them. Pax.

 

Run Time

As part of my #healthyMe lifestyle (new blog here about it) I made a New Year's resolution to run 5 5ks this year. So far I've done 2 (boo on me I'm behind). However, with that said I am about to run the most important 5k of any that I will run - Heroes For Children 5k. Why is this one important? Well for starters this is the third year that I've run it and all proceeds of the run and fundraising go to families dealing with childhood cancers. I've been there done that, sorta, having a family member suffer from cancer and going through chemotherapy. Watching them struggle all the while trying to keep a household afloat, caring for them, caring for your child, trying to work full time and keep all the doctor appointments straight - it's not easy and these families have their children that are affected - what I went through pales in comparison...

Last year I had Ethan sit outside and pose with my running shoes right before I started training for it. Every time I look at that photo it makes my heart melt - his happy little face next to my shoes. So this year I decided to do the same thing. We ran outside (right before it poured down rain on us) and I asked him to put my shoes on and pose for me. First, I was shocked to see that my shoes don't actually look that big on him (insert tear - my little man is growing up). Second, he looked very seriously at me and said, "Mommy I'm gonna make your exercise face!" And this is what I got. 

At first I was shocked that he looked so mean that I even commented to him to that "Mommy isn't mean when she exercises!?!" There was soon a stalemate between us. Ethan couldn't explain what he was trying to say and the rain was making it a hair stressful with my camera outside so that we gave up the ghost and went inside. Later that night after pulling the photo off the camera and looking at it I got what Ethan sees in me when I have those shoes on. It's determination. Strength that I feel in my heart to overcome what has happened in our lives and how I plan to make our world, our situation, a better place for both of us. And one of those things is this run.

The first year I ran it - it was so therapeutic in nature. I needed it to help me break through my own walls that I had put up and around me. The second year, it was still therapeutic, but on a different level. Ethan was there to see me cross the finish line and watching his little eyes in excitement as I did it made me feel good about what I had accomplished. This year, Ethan won't be there to watch me. Not because I don't want him to - but my parents won't be in town to be there with him. Which yes, makes me a little sad because this year has been about making myself a healthier person, mentally, physically and emotionally. Him seeing me cross the finish line as this newly transformed person would be my cherry on the top of my world. But it's ok. Knowing that he knows I'm going to run and WHY I'm going to run is the important part in all this. That together, as a team, he and I are doing what we can to help families dealing with cancer. We've done it - we were given help when we needed it - now it's time to give back.

I'm sure this run will again be very therapeutic. They always are with each 5k I've done. What can I say? My mind twists and turns and translates the things that are caught in the corners of my soul better when I run. And as always I will blog about it. I have to say I am really excited about this 5k. I've been working really hard to lower my run time and as of two weeks ago I actually managed to reduce my run time by 5mins and 30 seconds! SO yeah, I'm excited to see what time I get when I do cross the finish line and I'm excited to run with all the people who will be there to support these great families!

If you would like to donate and help this great cause you can do so by donating on my fundraising page. It takes $750 to help a family in need and that is my goal; to help one family! Please consider passing this along and sharing with people you know. I'm 1/3 of my way to my goal! Please consider helping these families!

Pax - d   

Shadow of Fear

I know it's been awhile. I have several posts that are half written and others that are complete and ready to post; yet they are my own personal thoughts that are so deep inside my mind that sometimes I think to myself, "I’m not quite ready to share."

With that said, I think I need to address something that happened a few months back and seems to be a common thread that wraps itself around some of my friends lately. Something that I feel anyone can relate to; not just people who might have lost a loved one. 

Everyone has (ugh I dislike this term so much) “baggage”. Some more than others; but we all have it and anyone who denies having it is lying to them selves. I personally loathe the term for the implications that the events of someone’s life that is out of their control is considered the metaphor for the choices that define who we are and how we react in certain situations in such a degrading term as “baggage”. 

You know, baggage, that thing you lug, shove and kick around when you travel. The thing that gets tossed and stuffed with the awkward facets of our lives and yet we continue to not acknowledge the fact that you can’t keep throwing stuff in there and expect to fit it all into the overhead compartment without sorting through what’s in there. Again; did I say how I loathe the term?

And yet we are defined often times in peoples' minds by this level of “baggage” that we carry around and let be shown to those around us when we least expect it. Now before we go any further, let me state for the record, I am not this person who looks at people and whispers, “oh wow – she’s a you know what – did you hear how she acted when so-and-so did this?” That’s not me. I’ve had too much happen in my life to look at people on such a first blush and make such brash comments. I completely understand that what makes, builds and defines us, can often be the events in our lives that are all to many of the times often out of our control. I watched a mother slowly die and saw in her eyes how the resignation that she would never see her son marry or get to meet her grandchildren become resolute. I watched as her passing brought a tremendous tear through a family.

I’ve seen the implications of a father’s indiscretions effect his son in a way that made him fight tooth and nail to prove to himself that he would be a better dad than his own. When in the end all that was ever needed was just a little more love from a Dad that gave up way too quickly. 

I have observed friends as they struggle to date because they allow their minds to become flooded with memories from their past and find it hard to carry a level of trust for someone that has done them no wrong; all because someone else carelessly battered and bruised their hearts to the point that running seems easier than being hurt again. 

I was blessed with being able to sit back and watch people; to love them for them. To love myself for who I am and what this life and situation of mine has defined me to become. Never judging. Just understanding that the people in this world are who they are based on their situations that have brought them to where they are and will be in their lives. 

And for the most part I have taken my level of understanding others to work on my self and my own level of grieving and (ugh that word again) “baggage.” It’s why I knew from the get go that I needed to go to therapy to work through the demons that presented themselves to my thoughts and work through the grief. I lost my best friend and I needed someone to tell someone I wasn’t crazy and I was doing the best I could, but would also be there to give me the tools to work myself back into the strong woman I once was before cancer entered our lives. And for the most part I have. It’s still something I work on every day. Grief isn't just something that magically goes away. 

No, I will never be the person I was before or even during Christopher’s cancer. Remember when we were kids and maybe you would swing as high as your little legs would take the swing on the swing set? And maybe you even dared to see how high you could fly and jump off said swing? Did you ever fall and cut your hands on the wood-chips? Scrape your knees? Break a bone? Where you the same person when your body abruptly stopped, hitting the ground? 

In that moment when you jumped the world was a spinning kaleidoscope of faces, sounds and colors that made no sense until you hit the ground and realized what had just happened. And even after hitting the ground and knowing you were on your feet, the feeling of knowing you weren’t the same when took flight starts to hit you. You start to see the strides and/or ramifications of what this little jump did and your mind kicks in to tell you that you will never jump off a swing or even get on one for a while. Or maybe it did just the opposite and the thrill of the rush that came over you pulls at you like an orbit to that swing. However so, your mindset from that point on has been altered. 

In that instant, your mind changed the way you thought about swings or how high you would ever allow yourself to swing. You changed and you didn’t even know it (at least not right away). You are still sorta you – just that little part of a daredevil has either buried itself or grown ten feet taller.

I have worked on myself for years to get to a place where I felt like I made it through the jump, the scrapes and cuts have healed and left little scars on where I landed. While I have told myself over and over “the swing doesn’t scare me”...well I was wrong.

A few months ago the Music Man got into a car accident. Let me start off by saying, in the end, the wreck wasn’t really bad at all. No one was hurt and other than some body damage to both cars the only thing battered and bruised was possibly the ego of the other driver for causing the wreck.

However, as I got tiny snippets here and there of the events, my mind was divided. I knew at that moment what it was like to have the feeling of ying and yang going on simultaneously in your body. I understood the madness that Dr. Jeckyll had for Mr. Hyde. Bruce Banner had nothing on my version of emotional transformation. I found my mind and soul residing in two completely different places and yet trapped like a bee in the jar of my own body trying to find an out only to hit the invisible wall that held my emotions at bay.

I sat at my desk at work telling myself “he’s ok” over and over again. Then feeling those dark recesses of my mind start to form and take shape into images that made me feel a level of vulnerability that hadn’t been felt for over 4 years. The circle of thoughts in my head swirled erratically painting a picture that used the colors of my heart, the canvas of my compassionate soul and the composition of my past to hang a gruesome portrait in my mind that couldn't be taken down no matter how hard I tried. 

I tried to squash those monstrous thoughts with “it’s a fender bender, d, get the hell over yourself.” Which lead to more visuals that drew themselves out in my head in pictures and sounds that were clear as day. Days like this are days that I dread being a creatively thinking person; because, while my imagination was a powerful tool that got me where I was in my career – it was also being allowed to take my already mangled thoughts and throw them into a gory graphic novel that you can’t put down and yet scares the shit out you. And know you should drop it before your nightmares start. 

I spent most of the day fighting a David and Goliath-esqe war in my head. The giant of my over active imagination against the pebble of my meek positive thoughts that tried to take them down; unfortunately my David was losing this battle. Quickly. 

That night while taking to the Music Man he asked me if there was anything he could do to prove that he was ok. He repeated it over and over and with each blanket statement of “I’m ok” came the mental image of Christopher sitting in a hospital bed telling me that he was “ok” even though a doctor hadn’t left long enough for the smell of his after shave to leave the room and the words “cancer” echoing through my mind as if it was shouted into the Grand Canyon. 

I said to him, “Someone else told me the same thing and he’s not here anymore.” Then I stopped. My eyes froze and welled with an overwhelming sadness. All these years of working through grief I somehow, somewhere over looked this scar. It wasn’t hidden; it was always there. Almost as if it was in plain sight. Yet, I never saw it. Or maybe I chose to never look at. Never examined the ridges that sat so perfectly across the soul of my heart. 

I had allowed myself to care about someone else to the point that the news that they might or might not be hurt dug into that scar and left the weapon of choice lodged into it and it was bleeding at level of pain that I vowed to myself I would never feel again. No matter the bandage I tried to tell myself I couldn’t control the pain that I had opened myself up to. By caring about someone else I tore down all the walls that protected my heart from being hurt and here I was; in battle with my own thoughts and no fort to hind behind for protection.

I went to therapy. It helped. A little. But not in the level that I needed it to. I was still at war with my own thoughts that were now creeping into my dreams at night. I had all but almost given up hope that I wouldn’t be able to move through this part of my life and mind again. All my hard worked seemed flushed in one foul caring swoop.

Then a week later we had a nighttime 5k race (the second one of the year for us). We made plans of where we were going meet after the race and I even excused my self from our conversation so I could zone out on my music and try to pump myself up considering that part of me that had allowed my monstrous thoughts to take life were now telling me that I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t make it through this run. It was pointless to be there.

As the race started I did my typical race pattern; weave in and out of people to try and get ahead of the walkers and strollers then find my pace. I listened to my music and tried the best I could to zone out – let the music work it’s magic and get me through the finish line. As I ran I tried to take my mind to places that were distracting and ignore the thoughts that wanted to sit and use my over active imagination as it’s play ground. 

I looked at the people ahead of me. That just bothered me – this race was at night and people were wearing glow in the dark paraphernalia that made my eyes water. I closed my eyes. That didn’t work; I was bound to trip. I looked to the side of the course; I almost ran into someone. Then I realized my shadow from the streets lights was in front of me. I focused on “chasing it”.

It helped for the most part. My mind started to evict those unwanted visuals and started to get lost in the music that was blaring through my ears. I focused intently on my shadow; trying my hardest to run it down with no avail. Then suddenly I watched that shadow quickly move from the front where my feet ran after it to being behind me. I was no longer chasing my shadow; it was now in a way pushing me forward.

I then found the words of the song pumping through my tiny little ear buds. 

“You know I dream in color, And do the things I want.” 

This song was somehow my internal thoughts monologuing to those fears that were allowed to manifest into the creatures of dark proportions and trying to put them in their place. 

“You think you got the best of me

Think you had the last laugh

Bet you think that everything good is gone.

Think you left me broken down” 

Those scars that cancer left on my heart and forced me to build a wall around to protect what was left were being confronted by that “d” that was tired of the games that played out in my head. 

“Think that I'd come running back

Baby you don't know me, cause you're dead wrong.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger

Stand a little taller” 

The shadow, which I focus so intently on, was beginning to represent everything that I was going through. My shape. Running. Trying to escape like only Peter Pan could from his own shadow. 

“Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone.

What doesn't kill you makes a fighter

Footsteps even lighter

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger” 

My shadow was my fears. The fear of caring about someone to the point of leaving my self vulnerable to the pain of possibly being hurt again. 

“Just me myself and I” 

Understanding that this new vulnerability was a milestone that I honestly didn’t think I would ever ascertain or work through. I was so determined to never let people in because it was the only way that I knew I could protect my heart. Protect myself from fears that had no name. 

“You heard that I was starting over with someone new,

They told you I was moving on,

You didn't think that I'd come back; I’d come back swinging

You try to break me but you see

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger” 

These no named fears lived inside of my head, hiding, waiting for me to falter just enough to rear their ugly head. But I wasn’t going to let them win. They couldn’t win. They are mere thoughts that only I control. I am the one who has power over them. No one else. 

I am the only one who can fight these fears and force them from the front where I seem to be chasing after them in the hopes that I might out run them to pushing them in their place.

“Thanks to you I'm finally thinking 'bout me

You know in the end, the day I left was just my beginning..... in the end...

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger

Stand a little taller

What doesn't kill you makes a fighter” 

I know it will always be a struggle to keep those fears in check and keep them in my past. Letting them be the building blocks to who I am and not the stumbling blocks I allowed them to be. They will still be at my heels always trying to move in front of me as quickly as I pushed them back. I will always be trying to tame my mind from the scars that might be cut and allowed to bleed into my soul. But what helps me keep more focused on this path now is knowing that this sick cycle carousel of emotions will never stop. There will always be that swing set and the idea of flight from it in my head. It’s something that I will encounter over and over again and it won’t stop swinging until I step down from it to understand how to be in control of my own speed. 

“Doesn't mean I'm over cause you're gone.

Just me, Myself and I

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger” 

Sometime life throws us in a direction that at the time makes no sense and we are left to figure it all out. Some of us fly through it. Some want you to think they can fly right through it, when in reality they never process the emotions that come to them. Instead they bury them inside that “bag” in the hopes they can forget about them (out of sight, out of mind). Then the very few who struggle and those events that life brings them leaves them tattered and bruised. The “baggage” of their lives left for people to mock, make fun of and yet those people who are left to mock are never the ones that would take the time to understand the feelings that brought up those feelings; to extend a caring hand. Sometimes people just need to stop and ask “why” to gain just a hint of understanding. This world is often too quick to judge. 

I discovered that I had "baggage". The loss of someone I cared so deeply for left an almost impenetrable wall around myself, until I let one person in. Then the wall that protected me for all these years failed me when I needed it the most and yet with it's failure I have realized where I need to work on myself so that I can continue to move forward in everything that I have work towards these last few years.

Grief is something that truly has no end. It’s something that will always reside in the waiting room of our thoughts. Waiting for the next time it can sneak in and try it’s hardest to damage what we have worked towards. In the end, I have come to peace that grief will never really leave me. It’s home sits in the quiet corner of my heart, but I am the only one that can feed my fears and control the life I have worked so hard to being how you say “baggage free.”

Faith in the Unknown I Don’t Know

About a year ago while leaving church walking blissfully hand in hand with my muppet the silence between us was broken with a question.

“Mommy, when I become a daddy do I have to go to heaven?”

My heart sank. I knew that one-day questions such as these would come from my innocent little boy. I just never expected them to come then or with such forethought that his little tone had put behind it. You could tell that it was something that weighted heavily on his little mind to the point where he couldn’t hold it in anymore and needed answers to the thoughts that bounced around in his head. 

I always knew that Ethan and I were on opposing ends of the grief scale and we would slowly move towards each other at a pace that was comfortable for us both. And at some point our paths would cross and I just prayed that that day would be one where my heart, mind and soul was at a place of peace so that I could be there to answer those difficult questions of “why”,  “why him” and “what about me”?  But this question threw me in a tilter of emotional upheaval. I wasn’t expecting this now at such a tender age.

My child’s mind was filled with thoughts that the idea of becoming a father and raising a child meant death… and that… broke my heart into a million pieces that seemed almost impossible to pick up and glue back together. My eye swelled with the tears of the possible answers that floated through my head – I threw each one out because each one had flaws and I already knew that with whatever answer I could word ever so perfectly it wouldn’t be enough or right for Ethan.

I couldn’t say “No”, because in his thoughts his dad was gone shortly after becoming a Daddy. I couldn’t say, “Yes” because, well for obvious reasons. I thought about saying all families are different, but it never really would answer HIS question.

While my mind quickly came up with answers and shot them down Ethan stopped in his tracks and looked at me. “Mommy? Will I?”

“No” was the answer I choked out and hoped he couldn’t see the tears welling up behind my sunglasses that I have become so good at hiding behind. Then the very next question was the one I knew he would come back with.

Ethan looked at me with those big dark eyes and for a moment I could see through them and into his little soul. So sweet. So loving. He would be one of those men that would make a wonderful companion to someone and an even better, loving, father. Ethan’s soul is one of someone twice his age; so mature and compassionate. And it broke my heart that all these thoughts filled his little mind when it should be filled with Thomas the Train or when was he going to the playground next. Instead he was concerned that if he became a father it meant he had to go heaven and he needed/wanted answers and he was looking to me for them. And I was at the biggest loss as to where to find them.

“How do you know Mommy?”

I paused and looked at the sunset ahead of us. Then without thinking I told him, “Because I have faith in the unknown that I don’t know.”  

Ethan smiled back at me and said cheerfully, “ok.”

Like that answer magically worked. I had found the golden goose of an answer that surprisingly Ethan accepted. There were no more questions that day (or week) about death, Heaven or when he became a Daddy. I sat up late at night pondering over a glass of wine if I really gave him the answer he was looking for or if he just didn’t understand it and figured I took too long to answer the question in the first place that he thought it pointless to ask another one. Either way I spent many a night wondering how he processed that answer; or if he even processed it at all. Did it all just go over his head?

I found my eyes fixated on a photo of Ethan. That little smile, those little eyes dark at night and that warm spirit that seemed so old for such a young little boy radiated from the photo. I thought about how I would give everyone in the world a thousand pennies if I could just have one peek inside his little mind to see how it works.

One glance at how his wheels turn. What goes on in that little mind that makes him seem so much wiser than he appears at times? But God, the universe or whatever it is that you believe in didn’t grant me that wish.

It was shortly after that conversation that I called a play therapist. I knew I was getting to a point in Ethan’s life where I had given him certain tools to understand the situation that was him, I and the life that was set for us. But I was also reaching a point where I felt like I wasn’t schooled in ways of handling childhood grief and it was time to bring in the expert.

I struggled with this idea because I felt like I failed as a mom for not being able to handle my own child’s fears, but as the play therapist told me, I was just the opposite and giving my child everything I could to help him. It may have been a marketing tactic on her end, but it made the choice to send him easier on my mind.

He amazed the play therapist and I by using every second of play therapy to talk about Christopher and the few memories he has of him. He talks about how he knows his daddy is in heaven and he’s happy and looks down on him. They talk about Ethan’s fears and the therapist teaches him the tools he needs to overcome them. His play therapist has been a blessing to both our lives.

Between the work Ethan does in therapy and what she teaches me to work on him with Ethan has gone from being afraid to sleep in his bed to sleeping upstairs all by himself and now even getting dressed in the morning before coming downstairs. He even came to me the other day and told me that he had made some wrong choices and didn’t deserve his iTouch and gave it to me as his punishment (yeah I’m still in shock over that one).

The old little soul I see in those eyes comes out more and more with each day and it warms my heart to see him growing into such a strong and loving little boy.

April 18^th Christopher would have been 37 and I thought with everything that Ethan had gone through it was time he knew this day was his Daddies birthday. See, in the past on Christopher’s birthday I would pick Ethan up and we would go out and have cupcakes with Daddy. I would buy some cupcakes and we would sit out there and eat them and talk about Ethan’s day. I never told him what that day was; I just wanted him to know that it was special and when Ethan was older I would explain.

This year I felt like Ethan was old enough to fully understand what made April 18^th so special to him and me. We sat down and talked about it and I asked him what he wanted to do to celebrate it. His answer? Cupcakes with daddy!

So the Monday before we went Ethan made him a card, necklace and bracelet in play therapy to leave on the grave. It was a very special moment for all of us and I even got a photo of Ethan with his card that we taped to the marker.

That night as I downloaded the photos from my camera I looked again into those little dark eyes that are filled with so much mystery and pondered. Wondered. To only be a fly on the wall that resides in his head for half a second is all I would want. To understand what flowed completely through his mind this day. This day brought him so much joy.

Yet, as I looked at those photos I was brought back to that moment after church when he looked up at me with his questions that I didn’t have the answers to. I still don’t have the answers. But as I told him before, I have faith in the unknown that I don’t know. I have faith that God gave Ethan the skills and wisdom to be the child that he is to understand where it is in everything that life gave us.

To find joy in a day that for him brings joy as his Daddy’s birthday and yet I wish I could see the world through his eyes. For me Christopher’s birthday is one that is private and held in my heart. It’s a day where the man I love(d) no longer grows old. It’s a day that also marks the halfway point before another year he’s gone crosses off my calendar.

The greatest lesson I learned this year with Ethan was on this day. Looking at him so happy and full of joy on this day. It was his Dad’s birthday and one that should be celebrated because without his father he might not ever be there to smile upon that grave and know that his dad loves him, wholly and completely from beyond this mortal plane.

I find that while I was choking on answers to tell Ethan almost a year ago – he was the one enlightening me almost a year later as I watched him through a different set of eyes. This year I looked at him with a stronger belief in the unknown that I don’t know, that all this happens with reason that no one is meant to comprehend, only to believe and find joy in the simple things that life holds within it’s robes that we often look over.

Today is a day special unto itself for the reasons that each of us hold in our hearts. Something we all should remember each day. :)