Snipits

It's my brother Matt's 35th birthday. He's really old and stuff.
Kate picked out his card and gift all by herself. She's gotten much better at picking out presents. She chose a blue balloon with music notes and Happy Birthday written on it. Blue because "it's his favorite color". Music notes because "he plays music on his guitar" and Happy Birthday because, well... it's his birthday.
Along with the perfectly chosen balloon was a pretty fab green t-shirt that she told him all about the second she saw him. It's not the "bestest guitar in the world" that she wanted to get him but it fit into the budget.

I made bananas fosters for dessert. Turned out more like bananas soaked in lots of rum. Tasty!

The wind is whipping. It's been raining for days. I found out today that at some point in this rain, my almost 2,000sq ft basement flooded. Went down to a musty smell and wet concrete. No standing water any longer. I haven't yet begun the challenge of clean up. That will come tomorrow with the dumpster.
It can stop raining now.

I have such great friends. Offers of help, loaning of fans, access to commercial grade disinfectants and some pretty funny emails and texts to help me laugh instead of cry.

My dad found a record (a real honest to goodness record) that was a recording of my great grandma Mabel playing piano and her and my great grandfather Frank speaking to my Grandma Donna. I never met Grandpa Frank and I never got to hear Grandma Mabel play piano. Grandma Mabel was a famous piano teacher and I always loved going to her home to play on her baby grand. The record was recorded two years before my dad's birth. Incredible is an understatement.

It's Thursday, it's raining and I'm tired. 'Night

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3 Years

I had Kate at a park that we've only been to a few times the other day.
Naturally, I had my camera.
I remembered being there with Scott sometime ago and searched out the photos.

It was our anniversary in 2008, almost 3 years ago.

I can't believe how big she's gotten.



Don't worry Baby Girl. Daddy will always be standing at the bottom to catch you. Even if you can't see him.

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The Story of Us

Sometime this morning it came into my mind that I haven't told the story of us. The story of how we met, fell in love and started our life. I thought today, on the anniversary of our first date (nine years ago) I would share my version of the story of us. I regret that I don't have Scott's story documented. I'll try to add in the pieces he would always add in whenever this story was regaled.

And so it begins,

I had just started a new job and was told to "call Scott at Northwest and arrange to get this stuff over here." So that's what I did. Our first phone call wasn't just the brief, in passing, type. I introduce myself, inquired about how his day was and instead of the usual "Fine. Thanks." I got a real answer. I wish I could remember the answer but I cannot. I do remember that when he inquired about my day I knew he meant it. He really wanted to know. He wasn't just being polite like I had just been. And so it begun.
For weeks, there were reasons to call "Scott at Northwest". Sometimes I made them up, other times I was actually doing my job. Every time we talked I learned something new. Not a girl to let things happen slowly, I made it very clear that I was single, dating and really hating most of the guys I had met recently. I hinted, pushed, nudged, and stopped just short of skywriting "Ask me out Dumbass."
This is the part of the story where Scott would interject and say "I didn't want to be pushy. You seemed so nice."
Then finally, one day, Scott had reason to come to my office. I was ready. Killer dress, fab heels, hair and make-up done, not the typical attire for a construction office. The moment I saw him through the glass door I knew it. I knew I needed him. He was exactly what I had pictured. What I had imagined. Exactly what I wanted and needed.
Sadly, he came in, greeted me with a polite handshake, dropped off the few items and left. He would tell you that he decided I was to pretty for him to ask out but I never bought that. I thought he was just chicken.
We returned to our conversations. Talking longer and longer each time. After a particularly long weekend where I became so frustrated by the choices in front of me, I laid it on the line. My line was something cheesy like "I could never find a good guy like you to go out with." That was it, he finally got the hint and asked me out.
I couldn't wait! He suggested waiting two weeks, you know that wasn't going to fly and so I suggested two days later. I always did get my way. I finally had it, my date with "Scott from Northwest". Dragging Sere to the mall, we scoured every store (a few of them twice) to find the perfect outfit.
Date night finally arrived. Scott arrived promptly, met my parents and stood waiting for me at the top of the stairs when I finally gathered myself together enough to emerge from my residence in the parents' basement. He and my dad were laughing about something, I have no idea what, but in that moment, I looked at him and knew. That was it. I was done.
Jumping in his truck, we were off to Port Barrington. We closed the doors to the truck and it began. The incessant talking. For the next eight hours we didn't shut up. We talked tv, we talked, family, we talked sports, politics, money, children. We talked about everything and nothing.
We talked so much that the waitress, as the kitchen was getting ready to close at 10 (we got there at 630), finally asked if we wanted her to order for us. Hastily we both chose a dish. I don't remember what we ate, though I know Scott didn't have pasta because as I would find out a short time later, the poor boy had no idea how to properly eat spaghetti and he didn't want to embarrass himself.
We talked as we walked out the door hours later, both forgetting about the bar bill. I didn't know this either until sometime later. Scott felt so awful, he went back the next day and took care of the bill and left a huge tip. Always, the good guy.
Driving back to my parents, we talked. Yup, more talking. We sat outside my parents house and talked until the wee hours of the morning. He told me about losing his mom and his sister. He assured me the doctors said he didn't have VEDS. It didn't matter. Already, it didn't matter.

I got out of the car that night without a kiss. I reached across the truck and scored a hug but Scott, the gentleman didn't even attempt a first date kiss.
I went to bed that night thinking that the man of my dreams thought of me like a kid sister. Turns out Scott went to bed that night thinking "Did I really just meet my future wife?".
The post date phone call late Sunday afternoon went something like Him-"We should do that again some time." Me - "That would be awesome." Him - "How's next weekend?" Me - "I don't really want to wait that long how about Tuesday?" Him - "That would be great."

The second date Cubs game. I've shared the hot dog story from the game. But what you don't know is that we joked on the way down to the game, sitting in bumper to bumper Chicago traffic just outside O'Hare airport, I said "Screw the game let's fly to Vegas." Scott's response "And get married."
There was a pause in the truck. As we both thought about if we could actually just fly off and get married. No thoughts of "I just met this person I shouldn't do that." Just thoughts of "People would really think I was crazy." In the end it was the disappointment that my mom would feel in not seeing her only daughter get married that kept up from jumping on the next flight out of town.
That second date finally ended with a kiss. He asked for permission first.
And off we went. We were inseparable. Spending all our time together. Going on adventures. Enjoying life.

Christmas Eve of that year, we got our first major punch. Scott called from the Emergency Room. He was in incredible pain and wasn't going to make it to Christmas eve dinner. Dropping everything I rushed to be with him. It was in that room that we first heard "we think you have Vascular Ehlers-Danlos." We had only been dating 3months. Scott had a right leg aneurysm and the level 2 trauma center needed to move him immediately to a level 1. Christmas Eve night was spent flying down the road in an ambulance. Snow, apprehension, worry, flying around us.
Christmas morning, my mom took one look at me and said "Go to him." Nothing else mattered. I didn't care about stockings, presents, dinner. I just wanted my Scott.

Scott told me before his first angio, right after the doctor told us he would be lucky to be alive at the end of the day, Scott looked me right in the eyes and said "you can go." I didn't. I wouldn't. I couldn't. I never regretted it. Not even for a minute.

From that first storm to the last moment, we were together. We will always be together.




Photo compliments of Kara Schultz.

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When did this happen?

My sweet baby girl is growing up. I don't know when it happened but when I looked at these pictures that I took the day we went to Daddy Lake, and couldn't believe my eyes.

I told Kate that she was getting to big and I pushed down on the top of her head (just like my dad did to me) and told her to stop growing. Tonight as we played Berenstein Bears Learn to Share (a board game) she sat sitting on the floor pushing down on her head.

"I don't want to grow up mom. Daddy won't know what I look like if I get big."

I assured her that such a thing is completely impossible. Her daddy would know her anywhere. Not even heaven can keep her daddy away.

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The Journey

Our life together has been an incredible journey. A modern day fairy tale of sorts.

I have spent so many days the last six months feeling completely alone. Grieving the loss of you in ways I never dreamed imaginable. My emotions, thoughts and clarity all swinging widly from one moment to the next. I've had times when it felt like I had forgotten you already. Times when I couldn't hear your voice or feel your hand in mine. I fretted and worried that those days were going to become the norm. That one day I would wake up and you would just have disappeared from memory.

When today started with this on the floor.

Kate's purple Tylenol somehow spilled in the shape of a smiley face.

And then when we got in the car and this song was the first thing on the radio.

I knew you were with us. I felt closer to you all day today than I have in the last six months. You were somehow right at the edge of my conciousness all day. Almost like if I spun around fast enough I would be able to catch a glimpse of you.

An afternoon at "Daddy's lake", with a crispness in the air, the softest breeze off the lake and the biggest, brightest sky I've ever seen. We talked about you. We remembered you. We loved you.

I may walk down the path alone now but this is still our journey. This is still our story. Everywhere Kate and I are, you will always be.


You are loved. You are missed. You are honored.

Always,
B.

PS- If it's not too much to ask, can you please stay just a little closer everyday? I need you.

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I was here then..

Six months ago tonight, .

I wrote this.

I didn't know how much time we had. The selfish part of me wishes for another thousand nights like this. But reading and remembering just how he felt in those final moments, I'm happy he's resting now. I wish I could rest to.

Tomorrow has been stalking me all week. Every quiet moment I've had I've thought about what tomorrow will feel like. What six months without him will feel like. Is it different than five months, will it somehow hurt less or God forbid will the ache be worse?

I don't know how we're going to spend the day tomorrow. I can't decide if I need to keep busy, ignoring the day or if I should just stay in bed with the covers pulled over my head and wait for the day to pass. Do we do something new, have just a typical day or do something that Scott would have loved? Whatever we do, I know he'll be nearby. Watching over us.

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Calgon... take me away...

Screw Calgon. Sadly, I've never been much of a bath fan. If it was my slogan it would be "Piper Warrior... take me away."
That's exactly what I did on Saturday.


There is just something about being in the air that quiets me. Up there you can't worry about money. You can't think about how Kate is mourning. There are no fleeting thoughts of all the responsibilities on the ground.

I feel tiny up there. I remember that my life is just a teeny, tiny blip on the radar of life. My issues, my problems, my saddness and worry, just don't matter.

Flying a short 40 minutes puts me so far away from home while still being close enough. Jump in the little Jeep. The Jeep that was mine when I found my passion for building buildings. Letting my hair fly in the wind. Twisting and turning down the roads to my happy place.

The place where my soul was born many, lifetimes ago. I know at the top of that hill is hard work. I know my hands will ache, my back will stiffen and I'll be gasping for breath. I know it and I love it. I crave it.

The beauty and the majesty surrounding me. Again, I feel small. No more or less important than the ants working hard to build their home.

This place, trips like this, forever and always a part of me.

Until the skies call me again. I will rest here on earth.

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Oh the places we go

There are so many ways to grieve. Every person has their own response, their own way. No two ways are exactly alike. Something I've learned in this process is that aside from things that are completely and totally self sabotaging, there is no right way or wrong way to mourn a loss.

Part of my grieving (and Kate's by default)is to keep busy.

Too much idle time, is just that too much. Too much time to think. Too much time to miss. Too much time to dwell. Too much emptiness.

So, we go. We zoo. We work. We swim. We dip our bodies in the lake.

We try new things and cling to the things that reminded us of Scott.

Old Threshers was for Scott.

He could spend hours, upon hours cruising around Old Threshers, looking at tractors, horses, old cars. He loved to sit in the stands and watch the tractor parade roll by. Marveling at all the different kinds of tractors. Trying desperately to pick a favorite.

Truth be told though. Scott's favorite part of Old Theshers was talking to all the people. He could sit and talk with my Uncle Laverne, my Aunt Lynn, their friend Dave, the other friends and family that would come any given year for hours on end. When in doubt you could find Scott chatting with some stranger asking him a thousand random questions about his tractor. Scott's way to engage people, to really care, to really listen... God, I miss it.

I wasn't sure we were going to go to Old Threshers. I literally waited until the two hours before we left to decide. The idea of going without him, I just didn't think I could bear it.

On the heels of the weeks before, I thought being there, being in a place that was so "Scott" just might be what broke me.

Thinking about it gave me night sweats. I just couldn't imagine doing it without him. Two years ago when we went, he rolled around in the rented scooter thing and saw everything. He got to go everywhere. Do anything he wanted. It was perfect. But, there would be no more perfect. Just a giant hole.

Even with the last minute decision, my "team" rallied. Mom and Dad drove.

Sere drove an hour from her house so that I wouldn't feel out of place with my big ass camera.

Saskija and S2 brought the girls. Aunt Marie, Uncle Ron. Everyone rallied.

We talked about Scott. We remembered past trips. We enjoyed the beautiful day, just like he would want.

The kids took center stage this time. Watching Kate play with her two little cousins. Asking Talise if she would be her "best friend". Riding ponys until we ran out of money.

My girl, loves Old Threshers as much as her dad did. She could have spent days there.

So could Raina. You would think Raina was born on a horse the way that girl acted.

We made it through the trip. We more than made it through, we rocked it. We enjoyed it. We made new memories. Laughed at old ones and did what Scott would have wanted us to do.

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Sentences

It's during the long, quiet, isolating, overnight hours that missing him, longing for him, needing him becomes untenable. Those are the hours that Kate, nor I, are content with memories, stories, old shirts. Where we crave the feel of his hand, the low rumble of his voice and the warmth of his kiss.

A restless night for the littlest Witt. I finally was able to comfort her by moving the rocking chair to her window and letting "Daddy's smile" shine on her. When my little girl needs her daddy, that's the closest I can come.

People keep saying there is beauty in death. I want to hit them. I've watched life make it's final march out of too many people. There was no part of it, even when peaceful, that is beautiful. I'm compelled to say more but should maybe just say less.

There is nothing like climbing into a bed with clean, fresh, sheets. I wish I could find the time and inclination to wash my sheets every day. It brings me a small piece of happiness.

Visits with friends that are really more like family (should I call them framily) and real family, are my lifeline. I survived the last two weeks because of them. And today between the long visits, short visits and calls on the phone, I had a few moments where I felt whole.

I have to mail a stuffed flamingo to my Grams in Texas. When the flamingo lost a leg this afternoon Kate insisted that Grams, and only Grams, was the only one that could possibly fix it. Any freight charge is worth it to have Kate and my Grams connected. Who needs Skype, I have a wounded flamingo.

I wish I had the energy to take my bed; clean, fresh sheets and all, haul it down the hallway so I could sleep under "Daddy's smile".

My eyelids are feeling heavy again. Maybe I've said enough that my mind can rest.

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Sunshine...


"Hey Mom. I saw Daddy's smile."
"You did Baby? Is the moon out already?"
"No Mommy not the moon. I do this" *reaches out her arms and turns her head skyward* "and I see Daddy."
"He was smiling at you."
"I know."
"You do?"
"Yes, because he loves me."

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The Iowa Drive

As we're driving back from Iowa tonight I'm plagued by thoughts of past Iowa trips. I've made this trip hundreds of times. I've been a back seat passenger, a driver, a right seat navigator. I've made the trip in record heat without air conditioning. In blizzards watching the cars pile up on the side of the road. In early fall when all the leaves were changing and fields were being plowed.
I've seen every inch of this trip at just about every time of day. This road has been the rhythm to my breathing as I've slept, just as it is now for my daughters. (Yes, girl child is actually sleeping in the car. Make this the 8th time she's ever slept in a moving vehicle).
These roads are ingrained in my soul. As much a piece of me as the house that I built.
I've loved this trip. And loathed this trip. I guess can be said of anything that has been a part of your life for so long.

I've been thinking a lot this trip about Scott. He's surrounded me. I can't help but be reminded of all the times he made this trip with me.
There was his first trip. That was back when he would do much of the driving. It was one of the few times Scott drove that my parents warned us of a speed trap up ahead and yet Scott still managed to get pulled over and get a ticket. You see, we (Scott, Justin and I) were far to busy counting the change in Scott's change drawer to see who had guessed the correct amount. No the $40 in the change drawer didn't cover the $150 speeding ticket. That story is still legendary in my family.
There were several trips made while I was going through in-vitro and during my pregnancy. Scott and I spent that time talking about how we wanted to raise our family. Discussing everything from table manners to paying for college, funding first cars. We talked about what if we had twins. The last trip we made before I had Kate (who we didn't know was a girl or a boy), we talked baby names. We had our boys name settled. It was a rather easy task. The girls name however, we didn't know until Kate was born. So during that last trip with Kate doing flip flops in my belly we scoured the road signs and the surrounding area for influence. Passing the sign for the Joslin exit a few moments ago took me back in time. I could hear Scott sitting in the passenger seat saying "Joslin Tamara. Joslin Witt. Josline Tamara Witt for the defense your honor. Dr. Joslin Witt cures cancers". Scott did that with every name he deemed "worthy".
The trips got harder through the years. The last one with Scott was particularly brutal. Even with my parents help (which was an absolute necessity) it was almost more than I could handle. Scott getting that last Iowa Family Christmas, was worth every bit of agony for all of us. I wish I had able to settle down enough to really process that it would be his last trip. I wish I remembered more of the "quiet" moments. I do remember one specific moment from that trip. Someone asked him if they could "help" him. His response "No thanks. I need my wife. She does it best." He didn't know I heard him. But that blind faith, that complete trust he had in me made me a better person.
It made me a better person and it taught me that I can handle anything. Complex dressing changes in parking lots. Having a passenger in the vehicle go into respiratory distress. compromising on music choices for a six hour drive. Talking with someone without saying a word.
And I guess tonight, this trip (and Scott) is teaching me how to live after such tremendous loss. I can handle anything....

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Pick me up

As I've been lamenting to anyone that will listen, it's been a rough week and a piece.
Really rough. Quite possibly the hardest week I've had in the last five months.
To combat this rough time, I've been squishing in as much "fun" as possible. Kate and I are on the go non-stop. Unfortunately more than about five minutes of "calm" reduces me to tears. Tears of anger. Tears of fear. Tears of uncertainty. But more than anything else, tears of longing.

Because, I don't want to/can't dwell on that. I've put together a little list of sorts. A few things that are make me happy, give me smiles (which I do have and are very genuine I assure you), and make me feel warm inside.

Late summer flowers.

I don't know why but late summer flowers have always been my favorite. The boldness of spring has gone and soft, delicate wisps are left in their place.

Seeing Kate laugh.

Every parents knows this one. It's simply the best feeling in the world.

Watching Kate sound out and read words.

It's just sight reading but, good heavens, I love it.

Meeting new people that become family after the first visit.

So many people have reached out to me. Offering kind words, love, prayers, and friendship. I've talked to a few. Had email exchanges with a few others. And in the case of Amy and her girls, have gotten together with. Anyone that will waddle like a penguin with your kid, is good people.

My dad's new employment.

A few weeks ago, my dad lost his job. I didn't blog about it. I didn't for a few reasons. 1) It's his business. This blog is my business and I want my family to feel like they still can keep some things private. 2) I couldn't face it. One more HUGE piece of bad hitting my family. I had had enough. 3) When so many other people have been out of work for long periods of time I found it hard to complain.
But I'm very, VERY happy to say, my dad now has a new, better than the last, job. A job that I know he'll do great in. A job that has brought renewed spirits to the family. A job that I hope is the stepping stone down the path toward the blue skies for my family.

The circle of friends.

Not to be confused with the "new" people that have reached out, the older friends have been so supportive. They laugh with me, they cry with me, they send me letters, cards, emails all with the intent of making me feel better.

I could continue this list. I could go on and on and on. But I've got a very dear friend stopping by. He says it's for the Cinnamon pull apart bread I just pulled out of the oven, but I know it's his way of checking in on me and making sure I'm doing ok.

I'm going to load up this weekend with as much good as I can. What will you be doing?

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Love it!

While editing the photos from the zoo, I came across this picture of Kate. I couldn't help but crack up laughing.
She's so intent. So focused. So mature. And yet...

so very, much like a little girl.

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