Looking After You

This is my view from my front stoop. I've sat here many a day watching Ethan play and telling my self that I needed to soak in every color, sound, scent and exclamation of his sweet little face. For one day, before I knew it, my stoop would be empty with those colors and sounds of his laughter because time had found him and made him into a man. It was in these days that I found out that Ethan has the most amazing little gift. He takes all the urgency, the hurry up and wait, the hustle and bustle of life and slows it down to a point where time feels like it stops and it's just the two of us in this great big world of ours.

Ethan started Kindergarten last month. A day that I swore to myself would not be emotional and yet in therapy I was making mental notes that I wasn't completely sure how the day would go down because of the memories I was allowing my mind to wonder to. A photo that I took just a two months before Christopher passed is a hard photo to set my eyes upon. Not because it's a photo of Ethan and Christopher; but due in part to the exchange in conversation that took place right after I snapped it. It went something a little like this:

Christopher turning over his shoulder and carefully giving me a head nod to step up to his side so he could talk with me. Quickly walking by his side; I give him a loving smile and sigh from the heat of the day while I try and briefly squint through the blazing sun.

In a soft and loving tone Christopher states with his heart, "I think the day Ethan starts school I'll take the day off so we can walk him to school together and I can walk him home." I didn't say anything, but smile, then tear up. For the idea that he looked forward to something so far into the future meant that in his head he was going to fight; to beat cancer, and be there to see his son start school.

He wrapped his arm around me and as we walked to the park he talked about how much it will mean to him and how much sadness it would bring due to the loss of his mom. I filled the silence with words of encouragement and the conversation was ended with me saying, "you're a great dad, you just being there for him will be enough... (insert loving smile)."

Those memories while sweet and heart warming have found a way to haunted my dreams and those moments when I'm left alone to the quietness of my own thoughts. I let my fears wrap themselves around these tiny little moments and turn them into something monstrous and vivid. However, I'm the queen of these haunting thoughts - the ghost buster of fear if you will. I've learned allot in these last three years and one of them is your fear only has as much power as you are willing to give it. And I was not going to let these moments haunt me on a day so near and dear to my heart.

Ethan's first day came and I was what you could say a bottle, no - jar, no - bucket of butterflies. Nervous that I would break down. Scared that walking those same steps over again would make me sick to my stomach. I was timid from the idea that my little muppet was going to big school for the first time - and sans one parent who's one dream was to be there. However, in good ole "d" fashion, all those fears were swallowed when I walked out and took Ethan's photos and saw all our neighbor and friends out there with us to all walk to school together. (Did I ever say how much I LOVE my neighbors & friends? Well if I didn't - LOVE THEM ALL! ALLOT! BUNCHES!)

To say we had a good start, well, lets see, yeah, that, that would be a LIE. OH DEAR. Ethan cried and didn't want me to leave, but in the end I just had to walk out and pray that his day would go well. It wasn't until I got in the car to drive to work when it hit me. I looked over to change lanes and there is was. His car seat. Empty. The radio was set on my stations and not his CDs. My morning routine had changed. Forever. And I lost it. I cried. I missed my muppet. I missed the crazy singing and laughter that filled my morning commutes. This day was going to be rough...

As the day went on I sat and looked up at the clock what seemed like every five mins. Thinking. "He's at recess right now." "Now he's at lunch." "Specials." "Being picked up." That little gift that worked so to my advantage had backfired on me... Brutally. All I wanted to do is rush to his day care and hear about the wonderment that filled his day and see his glowing little smile. What I got.... well? It went something a little like this...

Walking into the day care Ethan spies me and runs up all half smiles. We hug and I ask in the most bouncing voice I can muster how his day was.

"Mommy. I. I have to tell you something."

"What is that muppet?" with one eye brow raised because you never know what that comment will get you.

"Today was my last day. I'm never going back there."

In those two little sentences I could feel my heart break and begin to separate. This is my muppet and it was more than obvious that he didn't have a good day. The car ride home was filled with rear view glances and me wanting to talk to him about this, but I also knew this was a conversation that needed to be had over some milk and cookies.

When we got home we sat on the stairs and talked. The best part about the relationship Ethan and I have is most of the time he feels free to express all that is on his mind and I treasure that so much. He told me how no one played with him at recess, he didn't understand the computer class and how he didn't have any friends in his class and felt alone.

Alone - the magic word. I loath that word. Alone is what you are when there is no one looking after you or your benefit. Alone is a horrible feeling that I spent many a months dwelling over the concept and the one emotion that I vowed never to let my child feel. It was in those moments that I explained how I felt about this day. No I didn't go into how I missed his dad, but I did explain to him that I was scared too. That each and every day I "look after you".

I look after his fears, worries and concerns and that his job is to let me know how he feels and what I can do to help him. That I look after each little detail in his life and I would always be there for him even if he can't see me or touch me. I will always look after him because the bond we have is so great. We then worked on formulating a plan to make this new transition not so scary for him. We assigned him buddies from neighbor friends to walk into the school building with. And how he can make friends with the children in his class. And I'm happy to say that school is now for him an exciting place to go and our conversations are filled with "I can't wait till...." and not "that was my last day."

I know all parents have a hard time when their kids start school - single parent or not. It's hard. Hard because as parents we all want to look after our child and ensure that they are taken care of. I praise all the parents that sent their kids off to school for the first time, first day and even with first new transitions from middle school, to high school, to college. Just because they grow, their little gifts of slowing down times keeps them young in our hearts for us to look after. Pax to you all. :)

Running For Our Lives

This is the time of year where it gets close to the close of another year since Christopher passed. The first September after he passed was rough remembering the milestones of getting the phone call that life was going to change as we knew it. Explaining to the one I loved that while he had so much hope that would fill the world three times over it wasn't enough to keep him here on this mortal plain.

September became that month that could fall off my calendar and I wouldn't ever care; in fact I think I would have preferred for it to just disappear all together and those memories wiped from certain parts of my mind. But then again that's completely impossible and as I have discovered it's when we don't face the things we fear is when we lose our selves into the deepest darkest parts of our minds and as we all know that's not the healthiest way of dealing with them.

Then last year I was able to participate in a run that was a turning point in my life. One song into this 5k run my iPod died and I was left to my own thoughts for the next 3 something miles... ugh... But God had a plan that the iPod needed to die so he and I could have a talk and I was able to leave allot on that track and yet pick up the pieces of me that I didn't know I had left behind. It was so moving. To be honest I'm not really sure I can even put into words what it meant in the way that would do it justice. That day when I got home Ethan was full of questions. Why did I run? Where did I run? Did I know that Daddy was on my shirt? I won't lie knowing his curiosity for what I just done; I knew that this year I would try and make him a part of it.

So this year as I trained for my run on the treadmill (yeah, for those who don't know Dallas has been in the triple digits for a crazy amount of days) I let Ethan be apart of my training. I would put on one of his shows and we would race! Well, now let me explain the race. I tried to finish my run before his show was over. It worked great until he wanted apple juice or crackers during the run (those were the days that I lost). But I also talked to him about why his Mommy was running (and let him pose with my shoes). I explained that children are going through the same thing his dad went through and "we" need to help them the best way we know how. And this month it's through this run.

For those of you who don't know much about Heroes For Children; I encourage you to take some time and read about them and what they do for families dealing with childhood cancers. I also ask that if you are able to please donate to this wonderful charity. This year anyone who donates to my page will be put into a raffle to have the chance to win a top of their choice from BackPocket Sports. I will also like to add that if you would like me to run in the memory of someone or in the honor of someone I would be more than happy! Just comment with who and why and I will wear a band around my wrist with their name so they can run this with me and remind people that it's not about the one, but the many.

I would like to close this with a thank you to all my readers who give me strength and courage to push through the day and better myself. Pax to you all.

My Little Dragonfly

Recently my mind has been consumed with a great number of things that there are days where I don't know if I'm chasing white rabbits down a hole or the other way around. My work keeps me busy as it is, but add in the life of single mother hood, stir and sometimes I feel over baked. But then again I always tell my self that I can sleep when Ethan goes off the college and well that's only what 13 years away; I can stay up that long without sleep. Just kidding. Well… maybe not… (insert sarcastic and tired *sigh* here.)

A few weeks ago I did something that for a mom is life changing; but for me, it was ever so bitter sweet. After dropping Ethan off at pre-school I drove to a building, parked in the first spot I found (which happened to be in the very back of the parking lot). Grabbed some paper work, phone, purse and started to make my way towards this building that would bring back so many memories.

As I walked across the parking lot and the sidewalk I began to listen to the droning sound of my heels click against the concert, the rhythmic pattern of it in step with my heart beat, and how both became a little quicker with each step. Those steps drifted me off through a series of memories that have been floating in my head since that fateful Tuesday when I walked into that building and asked the woman behind the desk where did I go to sign up a child for Kindergarten.

As she put me into a room and I waited for someone to help me I sat at a table made for children. I took in every little teaching aide that ordained the walls. The bright colors and over sized letters where almost visually over stimulating for this designer. And as I took in these colors and letters I could hear Christopher's voice in my head.

"Hey wouldn't it be cool if we walked him to school every morning together?," he would tell me every time we walked to the park next to the school. It was his dream to walk his son to school and yet here I sat in this empty room waiting on someone to get my paperwork and those short little walks that will start in August will be minus one parent. While trying to take my mind off these flashback snippets that ran through my head, I reviewed th

e paper worked that I had already filled out to make sure I didn't miss anything.

And there under the question "how does your child act socially," read "Ethan's Dad passed away in 2008 and Ethan sometimes shares at will that his Dad is in heaven and completely aware of what this means and what it means for him verse other children. However, some children/adults might find it shocking when he brings it up (being that it is random when he does bring it up)."

This was the only place where Christopher was mentioned. There was no place for "Father's Name" - just a spot for "Legal Guardian". It was then that I was coming to a pass in our lives, when time has us in the space where it isn't headline news that his dad is gone and yet not enough time for the sting of handling an all new milestones to

go left unnoticed. Then before I could process these feelings a woman walked in and took my paperwork, gave me a stack of paper work and asked that I sign up Ethan for a mini-tour of the school.

As I glanced at the days there it was an April 18th tour. Christopher's birthday and the 6 month mark of when he was laid to rest. I didn't even look at other days or times. I knew that was going to be the day I took Ethan on his tour. It was a way for Christopher to be there in a way that only he knew how. Again, so how he always manages to get his way when I lest expect it. May be it's the artist in me looking for meaning in everything that happens, maybe it's God, the universe, or whatever it is you believe in putting their hand into something so simple and yet complex to expound on a set of emotions that I have struggled and dreaded.

I left there and sat in my SUV for a few minutes taking in what I just did, what it meant for Ethan and how we have both been presented with a new set of milestones that while are bittersweet to me, Ethan will never really know that emotional tug of war that wages in my head and find excitement in it all the little steps in his life. I let my mind flip through the pages of my memories, flashing snippets of images, smells and conversations and finding that this day was more overwhelming than I thought it would or could be. I was joyfully singing my child up for school and struggling not to let the grief of something Christopher looked so forward to not over come the day.

On April 18th Ethan and I went to the school for our tour. Ethan was scared and I think it took all of 60 seconds for him to realize and understand that his friends from pre-school were not going to his "big boy" school. And in classic Ethan meltdown he put on the brakes, cried and begged me to leave. As a mom it's heartbreaking to explain to your child that this all so scary thing - it's not that scary when you yourself remember wh

at it was like to start a new school with no friends. At times it does feel like the world will come to crashing halt and in those moments your fears come crashing in around you. Yet - I put on that "I'm concerned, but you'll be ok" face and explained that his friends on our street are also starting school and he will have friends when he comes here.

What I got back was the classic Christopher look. One eyebrow up, one down, eyes slightly squinted, lips only barely open and the only thing I was waiting for was the "uh-huh" to come pouring out. The good thing about the "Christopher look"; I looked at it for 16 years and it didn't phase me then and I wasn't about to have it phase me now - not when there was still two hours left to this "mini-tour".

Surprisingly it went well with minimal meltdown and after bringing Ethan to his pre-school and me back to work I started putting in his school dates into my computer. Meet the teacher night, popsicle night, holidays, school sessions… it started to become overwhelming. Holy Kindergarten Batman, life is about to change, dramatically.

From that day till about a week ago, there has always been a day that floats by that I think to myself what in holly hell have I gotten myself into. Not only will Ethan start Kindergarten, but he will also begin Faith Formation at our church and will have class one day a week for an hour. Then there is soccer. Yep soccer. Ethan is done with Tot-Kwan-Do and has asked to play soccer. So there goes practice night(s) and game days. SO that's another few days out of the week that I will need to schedule out of the week for us. THEN, yes then, Ethan has asked to take music lessons. And this is where I had to draw the line (for my own sanity and his). But how am I going to do this all?

Then one Saturday while walking back from the pool with my muppet; we saw something wonderful. Something that made both of us stop in our tracks. Ethan saw this subli

me little thing first.

"Mommy, look it's a draco-fly!"

And as quickly as my heart stood stir there is was. A dragonfly. Resting ever so quietly on a branch of our sage bush next to our front door. My first inclination was to just sit and stare and take it in fore the moment before Ethan was sure to bounced through and the dragon fly was sure to fly away. Then before I knew Ethan was so close to this delicate little creature that I wanted to lecture him on getting so close, but I didn't. I didn't because I was more in awe of the fact it just sat there and let us take it in. It wasn't afraid of us. Or Ethan proclaiming loudly that he loved this "draco-fly".

I quickly ran in and grabbed my camera and snapped a few shots off of a creature that represents the love Christopher and I shared and where he was now. See during his funeral our priest explained how leaving this mortal plain was like that of the life of a dragonfly. Immersed in darkness and once it finds light, it can't go home. And here sat this wonderful dragonfly who still to this day has not left my front y

ard and reminds me that even when I think I'm alone in this world - I'm not. He (Christopher) is still there to guide me when I feel as if those new aspects in life seem rough and overly bumpy. He's always here to let me know that I can do anything I put my mind to. And Ethan starting school is no different.

So in a few weeks, Ethan will start something new in his life with going to school and I will also start a new a chapter of our lives with how a whole new routine is about to unfold and be learned. And just like all new things I am sure it will be rough and a little hair pulling truing to figure out how to work, get Ethan to practices and games and balance faith as well. However, what i do know is that no matter the routine - he is there. Christopher doesn't need his name on a sheet of paper to be Ethan's dad, he only needs to rest in our hearts where it's most important.

It all started with a mouse….

Walt Disney said a famous quote once that said something to the effect of “we should all remember that this all started with the love of a mouse.” And he’s right. A simple little drawing that was drawn on a train if I have my Disney lore correct. And being an artist listening to things like that make me smile for it’s in those moments when we doodle on the back of a napkin or a receipt that is buried in the deepest, most bottommost dwelling of our purse or messenger bag that can turn into something some unlawful amount of people flock to each year.

It’s the idea that something that is locked in our head can turn out to be something so magical for hundreds of thousands of people. Heck millions if not billions. That in and of its self is magical. Can you even fathom the marketing department it takes to keep a place like that running and bringing people to it each year? I would say that working for this company in their art department would be my dream job; but then again the idea of living in a place hotter than Texas? Ummmm…. That dream just might stay there in the white rabbit hole that sits between Neverland and my own Adventure Land.

I recently went on vacation with my muppet. And yes, we went to Disney World. Me, Ethan, my parents and my brother (for a short time) all stayed in my parents RV at Disney’s Fort Wilderness Camp Ground and spent 10 days exploring the World that millions flock to. It was the first time for Ethan and honestly a little over 12 years for my family and I. So yes, in a way there were things different, new and also very magical for everyone.

However, the most magical part about it all was Ethan’s face. He was so excited about the idea of Disney World, I think I could have taken him to a new mall in Dallas and he would have thought it was Disney World. Now don’t get me wrong I showed him photos on the internet and explained things where I could; but honestly, can you really explain a place like this other than through the overwhelming awe that floods into our senses when you walk down Main Street USA for the first time?

Ethan was memorized and I personally couldn’t help but revert to my ten-year-old self for him. To see him completely terrified of Big Thunder Mountain only to be completely shocked when he got off the ride and went from what I thought was him being on the edge of a melt down to jumping up and down yelling at the top of his lungs, “That was awesome! Can we go again?!?”

I loved how with each ride it became his new favorite. And with each new “fav” he added to his list, a new fav was added to mine because it was my muppet’s favorite and the smile that came over his face filled my heart with so much joy, I couldn’t help but smile from the inside out. It made my heart sing to see him so excited and enjoying himself so much.

At the end of our trip Ethan proclaimed that the Buzz Lightyear ride was the best thing in the whole wide world, next to Thunder Mountain, The Speedway and the Carrousel (and who would have thought he would like the carrousel because back home I can’t really get him to ride in a shopping cart let alone anything that moves in a circle and up and down for less than 60 seconds.)

We spent ten wonderful days exploring the new adventures, getting bitten by various spiders and bugs and making memories that I hope Ethan will remember for years to come. But this month wasn’t filled with just a vacation, but two birthdays that were turning points for both Ethan and I.

This year I turned 34 and to be honest this birthday felt different. How might you ask? Well I don’t think I can fully explain without explain what up to this point my 30’s has meant me to be up to this point.

About two weeks before my 30’s birthday Christopher and I got the news that he had cancer – yeah happy birthday to me… We didn’t do anything on my birthday because Christopher had staples that covered the lower half of his stomach. But I saw this birthday as a transition to a new life – a new healthy life. One where we, together would fight this cancer.

On my 31^st birthday Christopher was becoming increasingly tired from the non-stop chemo and again my birthday somewhat went under the radar because I didn’t want him to feel bad that he was too tired to do anything. Then just a few short months later I became a widow. Again… yeah to the 30’s (insert largest sarcastic eye roll I can muster).

Turning 32 was hard for the simple reason of this was the same age that Christopher was when he was told he had cancer. I think I spent most of the day wondering how I would feel if someone told me that I had cancer – what would do, what would I think, how did Christopher do this? It made me admire him more and more for all that he went through.

Then there was last year’s birthday. 33. I was the same age as Christopher was when he passed. Looking at Ethan was really hard that day. To think that Christopher knew for a month that he was going to die. He was going to leave this little man that means so much to him. It was heart breaking and to say the least I tired to ignore that birthday to the best of my ability. I didn’t bring attention to it at work and for the most part tried to ignore Facebook the best I could. It was one of the most difficult birthdays I have ever had.

Then there was this year. I expected it to be hard. I expected it to hurt. I even prepared myself for the tears to flow most of the day. But what I got… Shocking. I woke up that morning, excited. Filled with anticipation for the day. This was a new day, yet more than just a new day. This was a new year. Where I expected the pain of living one more than Christopher – it was filled with nothing… No heavy burden on my shoulders; that weight was some how lifted. It was like I was living life through a new set of eyes. When people wished me a happy birthday – I smiled for the first time in four years. And you know what? It felt good to smile and be proud of being one year older.

Why this sudden transformation in the way I saw something as simple as turning a year older? Maybe it’s because I woke up and said I’m tired of the pain and hurt that cancer brought to me. Maybe it’s because I now see the beauty that being able to have that one more birthday means to me; to Ethan. Whatever the case maybe; I’m happy to have felt that feeling and I hope that 35 brings more!

This month was also Ethan’s birthday. My little muppet turned five. Five. Even as I type this I can see him the morning of his birthday when people would ask “and how old are you?” Ethan putting his hand as high in the air as he could reach and spreading his fingers as wide as his little hand could spread them without dislocating any digits and proclaiming that he was “five because his mommy took away his four!”

Watching Ethan so excited about his birthday made me feel good as a Mom and so sad at the same time. This birthday marks a time when Ethan as lived more time without his Dad than with his Dad. As a parent it breaks my heart. Yet as a single Mom, watching my child so happy at his birthday party – running and playing with other children and not even thinking twice about where his Mommy is; well lets just say it made me feel good.

It brought a peace to my heart that even in those moments where I want to throw my hands up in the air and say – I don’t know how to be a single parent, I don’t know how to answer than question of why daddy can’t come home, or why and how do I explain the new set of challenges that comes with being a single parent –it’s all worth it. It’s all worth the books I have read, the articles that others have written and my own personal discovery of the how the mind works when it comes to the loss of someone that filled your life with so much joy. Everything I have experienced has been worth it in one way or another.

So as you can see my month has been packed and full with allot and I’m just starting to get Ethan back on his routine and back in the groove before he and I face a whole new milestone. Kindergarten. (insert deer in headlight look of horror – then insert the thought of a pay raise from less money in daycare – ok so maybe kindergarten won’t be so bad after all… insert evil grin)

I will say I am very excited for Ethan to start Kindergarten, but will save that for another post. For those who follow (and who I haven’t lost over such a long post) I’ve started a Facebook page where I’ll try and update the things that Ethan and I are doing and also something new that I’ll be doing in the month of October. Lets just say that I hope it will go viral and I will have a flood of people who will participate in it. I’m working with a dear friend on it and I hope to announce it soon!

Milestones - An Introduction

Allot of you have asked, suggested and some have even stated that I should write a book. Now let me say first off, I'm not a writer by any means. I'm the worlds worst speller and grammar and syntax are all but beaten within an inch of it's life in my hands. But what I do have is an amazing story about life, love, loss and trying to maintain and raise a child while I try and figure how to sort it all out. A story that most people sit in their homes and thank to God, the Universe or whatever they believe in that this is not their life; then there are those few. The ones that are going through it; some with an amazing support system and other just barely hanging on not really sure what to do or how to process their own emotional roller coaster begging to get off this ride life has put them on.

This book is and has always been for Ethan. It was never really meant to share with anyone else other than his eyes and mind. To help him understand that any feelings that he can't explain to me from the loss of his father are not ones that he feels alone, but that at some point were shared by me and how I handled it all. And as I wrote and poured my heart out our that little laptop that was once Christopher's I knew this story isn't just meant for the heart of the three it hold inside of it; but for anyone going through something as incredible as the loss of a loved one or relationship.

Christopher was an amazing man in that his story still to this day is shared. I watch as I explain to people what we went through and what I did to make the life for Ethan and I little better; how just a little fore thought goes a rather long way, their eyes glaze over and tears are sometimes shed. It's one that is a part of my life and has molded me into the person I am today. One that while I wish I never went through; I understand what this loss has brought to me as a person, a mother and a friend to those whom I reach out to going through their own ups and downs.

Below is the introduction of the book which I have titled "Milestones". It's written in a calendar type form that starts on October 12th with the passing of Christopher. It catalogs the feelings and emotions that I went through and the thoughts that ran rampant in my head that day. With 12 chapters and subsections going over the milestones of our lives, remembering his birthday, our wedding day, the day we met, the first time I had to lose someone I loved and Christopher wasn't there for me with open arms to help me through the sorrow. What it meant to us while also sorting out what it now means to me and Ethan. It's still a work in progress, but it's almost done and I will be putting up a section or so from time to time to share with you all. I hope you all enjoy it and here is the introduction to the book that has taken me over 6 months to write, but I think it's ready to show the world.....

Introduction

This is story about the strength that resides like a fire in ones gut and weakness that smothers and flickers at that flame. It is about love, fear, loathing and dare it even be said deep seeded hatred. This is journey to a place that some people never experience and while most of us will; this experience comes to those only when we are old, grey and for the most part collecting social security (if it’s even around then), playing bingo with our friends and knowing that our lives were filled 80% (or more) of the time with an immense sense of joy.

It’s a journey of life after the loss of someone that love held (and holds) so dear to our hearts that their physical loss on this mortal plane is like a twisting knife to our already battered and bruised hearts. However, while we travel down this path we are forced to remember those moments in our lives when that person was there to share them and bring our lives an overwhelming sense of joy and jubilation. And while we dance in those brief snippets of our memories we also remember how bittersweet it all seems now that our lives have been turned upside down.

I’m a widow. Yes I said it. (No shocker there right, this is a book about grief, morning and how I struggled through the idea of moving forward with a life that seems to stand still.) I became a widow at the age of 31 due to a disease that there is still yet no cure. All we can hope for is to fight this monstrous illness so that tumors can be found in time to give you a fighting chance against the cancer that rages in your body.

I lost my husband, Christopher, at the age of 33 to Stage IV Colon cancer with metastasis that covered 50% of his liver. We discovered this when he was 32 and just days before our son, Ethan (aka “Muppet”), turned 11 months old and our six year wedding anniversary. After a non-stop chemotherapy treatment that lasted 16 months, his liver gave out and Christopher lost his battle with cancer on October 12, 2008.

Shortly after his passing I did everything I thought I was suppose to do with this new found title of “widow”. I started going to a therapist and support group; to which I soon discovered that there were steps that I was going to have to take. Milestones, if you will, to make it through this rough and arduous path of grief, morning and finding how life moves forward without the one you love. These are my milestones laid out in a year. Each milestone took me on path of remembering the joy of what I had with this wonderful man I called “My Love” and why going through that day was so hard just because of what that day held for me in my heart. There are days of intermingled joy in what I accomplished and yet the sorrow of what each day now meant to me and what it used to mean for us. A journey of how we became two, from two to three and from three; then there was two.

This is my journey.

Don’t ever feel less than…

This blog has always meant to be based around the idea of love, light and fighting my way through the situation life has given me. My last blog post got some eyebrow raises and also a standing ovation from friends who praised me for doing what I did.

However, it was hard to dig deep in my soul and make the choice to open the door to my own Pandora’s box for the world to see. But then again, this box needed to be opened to show that I stand my ground and that the line I have placed in the sand isn’t going anywhere.

Yes I “grew a pair”. But to explain how there are nights where I look at my little muppet and think that someone could not have his best interest at heart brings out things that make me not like myself. I don’t like the anger. The sadness and most of all the pain that it brings to my heart.

One day while in the car (on the way to grief therapy of all places) I was radio surfing and caught a line of a song that stuck into my head.

“Mistreated, Misplaced, Misunderstood,” radiated through my ears. Just those three little words got the creative juices flowing and I knew there was a blog post in there somewhere. See to understand how I think would take me days to explain; but let me say sometimes things come to me as simple as a line from a song. Music; what can I say, it’s my addiction. Lyrical poetry that speaks to my heart and seems to put the world in a state of zen when I need it to be.

I spent most of the week wondering what else was behind that song that I missed by having to turn my car off to make my appointment. Then one day while listening to the iTunes radio there it was. Clear as day and at a time of day that I wasn’t tuning the background noise out. It was wonderful. It was inspiring. It hit my soul with a fire that would send a bond fire up like a set of matchsticks.

And like any song that I relate to I had to find out about it – what did it mean, why did the artist write it, what are the lyrics to it. And reading those words just made me love everything about this song even more.

It made me think of all my ups and downs in life and how sometimes I feel mistreated, misplaced and sometimes possibly even misunderstood. But it’s life and we do the best we can at it. It can cause us to second guess what we know is right in our hearts and underestimate the power of our own feelings. But I took my fear and swallowed it whole. I’m not trying to ignore the situation that presented itself.

I will always remember a conversation I had with my dad who shared with me how he wanted things in his life and carrier and didn’t get them – but it didn’t mean that he was any less of a person. It just wasn’t meant to happen. But he made the choices he made to always better his life for his family. That conversation will always stay with me. Because it was my dad’s way of saying that I didn’t have to be President of the United States, he was happy with whatever I was as long as I was happy. And honestly knowing that and having those friends who sent me emails and commented on my blog about how they admired me and what I was doing – it was like a thousand pats on the back that I needed to know I did the right thing.

It’s like the song on the radio who’s words filled my soul with grace and a undefined tenacity; Pink’s F**king Perfect, “Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead. Everything is so complicated; look happy, you’ll make it. Pretty, Pretty please, don’t you ever ever feel like your less than f**king perfect. Because you are to me.”

This song, made me think of Ethan and the ups and downs he will have in his life. How he might find himself “mistreated, misplaced or possibly even misunderstood” with the situation we have been placed in. And it got me thinking that everyone in life should have that person that gives them those moments when they get that pat on the back. Everyone should feel like I did reading friends comments about something that was so hard and gut wrenching for me. And to bring some light back into this blog I want to let some people know some things…

To my late grandparents, you are perfect for the families you created and the love you shared and brought into their lives. Papa Agenlly I wish I could have known you and the graphic artist that you were. I think we would have had some amazing conversations. Grammy Agnelly you were perfect to me in all your short and sassy Italian ways; I know where part of that spitfire in me comes from. Papa Johansson you were perfect in how you cared about those around you and I know where I got a bit of my humor in life. Grams you’re perfect in the ways that you showed me what it meant to be a gentle and yet to be strong like any good southern woman.

To my parents you created two amazing kids who owe you the entire world. You taught us what the word resilient means and how we should never be ashamed of who we are. You showed us how to stand on our own two feet with courage and yet were always the one to give a helping hand when we fell flat on our own faces. I’m more than proud to have you as my mum and dad; you’re perfect to me.

For my brother who never stops amazing me. You were brave to make changes in your life and take steps that most would be afraid of and for that you are perfect to me.

To my friends, D, J (in BR), J (in Gtown) and M – you all are so perfect through my eyes. D you are perfect for working so hard to understand and engulf your self in love and working towards letting it fill you from the inside out. I know that you and T will be so “happily ever after”. J in Gtown your perfect for everything you have done for Ethan and I, thank you . J in BR you perfect in the way that you work so hard to find your sense of zen; one day at a time. M you are perfect in how you raise three kids and always keep a calm and collected head.

To my blog readers your perfect to me for following the ramblings of a stranger and giving me the motivation to know that I’m not the only one out there that sometimes needs to know I’m not alone.

To my other friends and family you all are also perfect to me. You’re out pouring of love amazes me daily and without you all I don’t know where I would be. Especially those of you who live in El Paso and Tennessee.

To my neighbors; you all are more than perfect to me. Without you all, there would be lost a major ingredient of Hope that I find here. I love you all so very very much.

And last but not least – My muppet you are so f**king perfect in my world. You are the collaboration of love and everything that is good in this world between your dad and I. You are perfect from those long eyelashes to your little monkey toes. You are such the perfect blend of compassion and stubborn headedness that even when I’m giving you the eye to correct you – know that I smile from the inside out with the joy that you bring into my life. You my muppet will and always be so perfect to me. So please don’t feel any less than that…

Go home and hug that certain someone who makes you feel like they are perfect to you and let them know it…

Paying It Forward While Trying To Moving Forward

Life and the world we live in is made up of choices. Choices that mold us to who we are and how people see us. We are, in a way, a small bit of paper. Our choices create folds in our lives that in the end become the origami of who we are and how people view us.

Some people emerge from life a beautiful swan and yet we can still see where their choices that were made in life; while they may be poor, wise, what-you-had-to-do, whatever category our mind places them in, they have consequences on the art of our soul. We see the tattered edges a rough life has given them.

Then there are people that make no other choices, but for themselves. Their origami of life leaves them with no shape. They are no more than a wade of misguided choices that leaves them with nothing and yet no matter how hard they might try to start anew – the folds and creases are already there and viewer cannot see beyond the waded mass of nothingness that has engulfed their soul.

I often share some of the rawest parts of my soul. The deepest darkest folds of my soul that some would say I should keep to myself, but I can’t. I can’t because in all of this I have gotten emails and comments from people that they are so glad I write.

This digital dictionary of clips and phrases from my personal origami let them know they are not alone in the world. For it’s more than ok to feel those feelings that flood over them (and sometimes consume) or at the very least that they are not alone in their quest to understand why things happen to them and how can they find the light through all of it.

I’ve never candy-coated the way I’ve felt about things. My emotions through this journey have been that evadable chalkboard where I can see where things used to be, but I’ve worked through them and erased the hurt and pain, but you can still the words etched into the board from where they use to reside. Unless the board is washed – they remain there. I have no urge to wash this board that sits so peacefully in the corner of my soul where the emotions of the heart and mind intersect; it’s help me be who I am and who I try to work towards daily. It’s never a perfect journey, but one I take one day at a time.

However, with everything that I shared here, there still have been things I have not. Things that I have come to call “toxic”. Parts of the life that Christopher and I had together. That upon all the conversations we had before his death he wished, over and over, that I never have to deal with. But I have.

I never have shared these toxic moments and feelings with anyone through this blog for my own personal morals and scruples. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve danced around the fire and sometimes when I’ve been really upset I dart my hand in and out of the flame just to see if I get burned. But never have I just laid it all down.

Why? Well I’m a better person than those “toxic” people. I don’t want Ethan one day to happen across this blog and read in my own words the way I see a part of his and my life. What happens if by the time he reads it my feeling on this “toxic” situation changes – the internet is forever. I owe it to Ethan to keep something’s to myself… Till now.

I feel as though my hand has been forced and well, if this comes to bite me later – then so be it. I am personally tired of trying to heal from this toxicity only to feel a false sense of being ok; then have that feeling quickly replaced by the cold emotional sting of a steel pipe across my chest and the hurt and pain returns that I have worked so hard to try and move past.

Christopher’s life wasn’t perfect. He grew up on the “wrong side of the tracks”. The joys in Christopher’s life where always filled with equal amount sadness, regret, overwhelming happiness and underlining fear. As he moved into his twenty’s he feared of becoming the one person who let him down in life over and over again; his father.

Now before people start to fidget in their chairs that I’m about to let lose a ton of dirty little secrets for the world to read. I’m not. I’m a better person than this. However, I think some things need to be said.

Christopher lived a torn life. A life that some would say was filled with so much and yet no one (other than his Aunts and my family) knew the pain that consumed his heart. He always felt as though his father didn’t care about him or the well being of his family. It’s a harsh thing to think as an adult and even harder when you discover it in early adulthood. He often sat in bed with his headphones on listening to music to help him relax from the day. And there wasn’t a week that went by that I didn’t hear a certain song pumping through those little ear buds as loud as his laptop could play it.

He was so incredibly attached to Everclear’s “Father of Mine”. And one day he and I had a conversation, which was short and yet all so telepathic on the same level. I asked him why that song got more playtime than anything else (even though I knew the answer before he said it). His comment.

“It’s the one thing that I wish I could tell my dad and yet I can’t because even if I did it wouldn’t mean a thing to him.”

(These are the parts of the song that meant the most to him…)

Father of mine
Tell me where have you been?
You know I just closed my eyes
My whole world disappeared

Father of mine
Tell me where did you go?
Yeah, you had the world inside your hand
But you did not seem to know

Father of mine
Tell me what do you see?
When you look back at your wasted life
And you don't see me

Sometimes you would send me a birthday card
With a five dollar bill
I never understood you then
And I guess I never will

My daddy gave me a name
(Then he walked away)

Father of mine
Tell me how do you sleep?
With the children you abandoned

I will always be weird inside
I will always be lame
Now I'm a grown man
With a child of my own
And I swear, I'll never let her know
All the pain I have known

As a wife to one of the most amazing men that has walked upon this mortal plain, it hurt to see him hurt. It hurt to listen the lies his father would tell. How he would confess his “sins” only to revert back to his old ways.

I know the Bible says to always forgive. But as people of this earth, how many times can we forgive only to know that in the end we will be hurt again. This was the cycle that was Christopher and his father. He dad would call and fill the air with sounds of his breathe telling him that he “Found God” and how “he has seen the error of his ways and could he be forgiven.” Each time Christopher forgave him, because he was his father and Christopher believed in the good of all people. Then normally 6 months later he would get hurt again.

This pain was something he never wanted Ethan to feel. Pain that he promised to him upon the day his birth that he would never go though and would protect him from. This promise was something Christopher and I talked about before his passing.

I told him it was a promise that I was uncomfortable making because I knew it would lead to confrontation and I knew in my mental state of losing the one I love(d) that I couldn’t do. But you know; some people just make it easy. Too easy.

To say that I was put through hell in the time after Christopher’s passing and before his services was an understatement and we will just leave it at that. But trust when I say it was enough to understand how much of a buffer Christopher was. He not only protected our family, and me, but he truly took a bullet for us. And in the words of Forest Gump – “And that’s all I have to say about that.”

This pain was enough for friends and family to intervene and ask that Ethan and I be given space and time to heal. And for the most part – this was given. Then Christmas of 2009 I received a Christmas card from Christopher’s dad who wanted to reach out Ethan. The card was written passive aggressively and the rage and anger I had for that man built up inside of me once again. I was not going to let Ethan fall victim to him. I made a promise to my husband. I saw for the first time the pain that filled me was the pain of Christopher’s life that filled every crevice of my mind, body and spirit. I took on his burden and it hurt and I would do anything to protect Ethan from one tenth of an ounce of anything Christopher went through. I became that mama bear who would do anything to protect her cub.

I sat down and wrote his father a letter. A letter that explains the best way I knew how and why Christopher felt the way he did. It was short given all the reasons that I could have explained further. It was clear in thought of all the emotions that I was trying to set forth. And in the end I explained how it was Christopher’s wish to shelter his child from someone that caused him so much pain. However, I was willing when Ethan turned 18, he was welcome to look for him. But until then – I asked for no contact.

It was harsh and I am sure feelings of rage filled him and his family when it was read. But the truth hurts. And if he was filled with rage then those chats of “forgiveness” were in vain. For to understand forgiveness is to understand the pain we put those through that we ask it from.

This Christmas I got another card from him. The card again was written to Ethan (in his wife’s handwriting) and passive aggressively makes a stab at wanting forgiveness. It talked of already asking me for forgiveness and yet – to this day I have heard none, other than I won’t give it. You can’t give what hasn’t been asked for.

This card also contained a $50 gift card for me to buy something for Ethan with it. This card sat on my desk for almost a week. I was so unsure of what I should do. This man and his life are still so “toxic” to me. The origami of his soul is nothing more than a crumpled wade in my eyes.

After some thinking and praying on what should be done with this gift card; I knew what I had to do. Christmas Eve, my mother and I went out to run some last minute errands. While in a Starbucks getting drinks for those at the house I noticed this woman in red. I was drawn to her and yet as many times as I brushed it off as “she’s wearing read in a muted colored store” I observed her. I noticed her friend bought her coffee. I could not shake the feeling that I was being drawn to her. I noticed every line around her face. The way her eyes sat so gentle on her face. How perfect her hair curled out from under her hat.

The more I observed her; the more I was drawn to her. It was as if I had known her. While we waited for our drinks I told my mother I would be right back and walked up to her and her friend and explain how I knew they didn’t know me, but could a take a second of their time.

I pulled out this gift card and place it in her hand. I expressed how this card came into my life and that I didn’t need it, nor did I desire it. I asked that she take it and use it. The only thing that I had to ask was that if she didn’t want it or desire it to “pay it forward” to someone she might know who would need it.

I watched as her eyes glassed over as she fought back tears. She told me how she had lost her husband a few months ago and how this was the most beautiful gift she had been given. To say my heart swelled with joy is an under statement. I gave her a warm smile and told her “Pax” while I walked away. However, I walked away feeling seven feet taller and filled with an enormious sense of pride.

I took something that in my mind I saw as completely toxic and turned it into something beautiful for someone else. The beauty of something tragic and using what I learned from having a great man in life to bring joy into someone else’s life who might find this holiday season harder than most.

I will always be amazed how God took my simple prayers of finding strength in a situation that I sometimes feel pralized in and not only gave me strength; but how he brought someone into my life who needed the same thing. We were kindred spirits during a time of year where most are consumed with material items – we, those who have lost the ones we love, would give up our material positions just have a second glace at what we have lost.

I pray that woman was given the same strength I was that day and that the sun shined down a light brighter for her from that point on. As far as my “toxic” situation. I stand by my letter. If all he wants is forgiveness, he can have it, but the bible says no where that just because I forgive means that I have to subject me or my family to them. Mine and Ethan’s life filled with more love than I could hope to be blessed with that I don’t need the drama from those that might cause more pain.

The origami of my soul is still one that I work on; but the one thing I do know. While life itself might leave me tattered around the edges; life has shown me the beauty that resides within.