Just Can't Get Enough

My Aunt Marie is here visiting. When she asked to go to Daddy Lake, I jumped at the chance. After all, I just can't get enough.
How could it be possible to get enough of a place that makes the world seem like a better place? A place that takes my worries and pushes them aside. A place that brings me nothing but happy memories. Load up the bus I'm in! And this time, I'm bringing the whole damn family!

Its been a non-typical week around these parts. It's not often that I get sick but when I do... Look out! My body is a fan of the 'go big or go home' motto apparently. A cold turned into laryngitis, turned into bronchitis and in triumphant fashion at 2am Friday, a ruptured ear drum! Kate and I still managed a week of classes, school, work but without our usual flair.

I needed to feel the healing love of the lake. And boy did it deliver! Another absolutely glorious day! I keep pinching myself, afraid it's just a dream. I wasn't the only person feeling the love (or the pinching probably).

This was the first time the extended family gathered at the lake. The first time I've really had to share the space. I was afraid that I was going to be too busy, too distracted, too...whatever, to enjoy it. I'm so glad that wasn't the case.

I find that there are things that I don't like sharing. Pieces of him that I just want to keep all to myself. Even a year later. I'm always happy to talk about Scott, share one of his jokes or tell a story but there are just a few things, places, details, that I want to keep hidden. Tucked away from other people's opinions or thoughts. Safe from contact with any others. Kate is the only exception. And maybe that's because I know she can't change the story or add something to it.

I think that's part of the reason I stopped posting for awhile. I just didn't want to share anymore. Does this make me strange? And no, that's not a trick question like "does this make my butt look big?".

Here's the thing about being 'strange' in how I move forward with this life, I don't care if I am. I don't care if the entire world thinks I'm a flag flying freak. I am what I am and that's the end of it. I can't change it so I must embrace it.

If there is one thing I hope I can instill in Kate it's that. When there is a pure, genuine feeling in your heart, all you can do is accept it for what it is. Let your freak flag fly.

Thank you Aunt Marie for wanting to go. And thank you to the rest of the family for going. Sharing feels good. I just wish the rest of me felt that good.

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Part 2

Kate started ice skating lessons last week. Today was her second time on the ice. She's a natural. Her smile radiates off her face when she's on the ice. Grinning from ear to ear she just keeps getting back up and trying again. Just like her Dad.

I imagine what their conversations would be like right now if he was here. I know she's disappointed to come home to the empty house and not have anyone else to share her good news with. I sense the pause in her when we enter through the garage and she yells "were home" adding "Jake and Becky". Like she doesn't still want to yell "were home Daddy".

His room is her playroom now. Neither one of us like to play in there. The indentations in the floor from his bed still a reminder of what isn't here. We'll sit in there sometimes, lounging on the floor, and talk about him. Telling stories. Sharing.
She's asked to hear the story of his death more in the last month than she has in the last 11months. She wants to know every detail. When she's sure she's heard it all she asks to hear the story of her birth, or of Scott and I's first date or of the Cub's game. Absorbing as many of those details as she can before finally moving on to other important things. Like, would Ariel really marry Prince Eric?

Today she skated and we went to Daddy Lake. We ran, we chased, we played and we sat. We sat on that pier and we talked. She told daddy all about skating. She told him about starting kindergarten in the fall and about her friend Azier at school. "he's a boy Daddy. But don't worry he's not my boyfriend. I don't want one of those until after college."
This is all stuff we tell him every night and before every afternoon rest. But being on that lake with the glorious sun shinning on us, I'm pretty sure both of us knew for certain that he was sitting on that pier with us. How else can you explain 80degree weather on March 15th in Chicago?
It felt so good to be so close to him. So close and yet so far.

She is so much his girl. Quick with a joke. Always wanting to make others smile. His long eyelashes and small mouth. But it's her calm that is most like him. Her gentle ease. Sitting on that pier, a tear ran under my sunglasses. She just leaned her little body on mine and whispered "he still loves us." A true grace that can never be defined but that can only be experienced to fully understand. If you knew him, you know the grace I speak of. How did I get so lucky to have it in my life twice?

Our dinner at his favorite restaurant didn't go as well as our trip to Daddy Lake. No warnings, no signs, no information. Just locked doors. Not ones to give up, we made it work at the Olive Garden. It doesn't really matter where we are after all, it just matters that we're together. In thinking about it now, the Olive Garden is really a pretty good place. His last birthday with us was spent there. One of my favorite pictures of he and Kate, the one that sits beside my bed, was taken there. Looking at my big girl sitting across from me tonight at dinner and trying to connect her with the six month old baby in the picture on my dresser... an impossible task. Realizing that her daddy is holding on to her now just as he was in that picture; so very easy.

Every date on the calendar has now been lived since he left. Every major holiday has been conquered. We got through the past year. I'm sure we didn't do everything "right". I know it wasn't always pretty. I know there is more longing, pain, heartache to come. Beyond that though, I know we can do this. I may not always want to. But we can and we will.

This is our one wild and precious life.

and we're going to live it.

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A year part 1

My first thoughts this morning as I opened my eyes to see 321 on the clock, "normal, I feel normal". As the eyes opened so did reality. The crushing pressure in my chest; my constant companion this past week and the blinding searing pain that radiates over my eyes were back. How can I do this? How can I manage this day?
Toss and turn. Toss and turn. Mind swirling, empty thoughts, fragments of thoughts really swirling in my head. The same thoughts that have lingered all week.
He wouldn't recognize his daughter now. She's so big. Her face has changed. Her speech is clearer. Her thoughts more structured and concise. She too carries the sadness behind her eyes. A sadness that didn't exist a year ago.
She remembers him so well. Things I didn't think were possible for her to remember she holds with such clarity. She draws him as an angel. But talks to him and about him like he's here. Until it's time to make a wish or talk about what she wants to do when she's older. Then it's the same thing every time. "I wish my daddy could come back home. When I get big enough I'm going to invent a time machine to bring Daddy home.". Ugh.

I'm not where I thought I would be by now. This isn't what I pictured. I had a plan.


Toss,turn,toss,turn mumble,dream,breathe...


Get up. The alarm is screaming that it's time to workout. Another 90 minutes of sweat to chase it all away. I've got muscles I never knew I had. Even then, when I would literally carry my husband I wasn't as strong as I am today. Carrying him made me feel strong, powerful, like I had a purpose. Now... I can sweat.
Today's 90 turned to 27. I can't do it. I just can't. My breathing is wrong. My focus, my drive... Gone. As I lay on the floor all I can think is write. Write! Write to him, write to her, write to yourself. Just write. So here I am. Writing. Breathing. Listening.

I don't remember the birds chirping outside my window last year. But I wasn't in my room. What do I remember? The struggled, labored managed breaths. The eyes that lit up every time Kates voice could be heard. The scratchy, raspy, barely audible, voice that said "don't leave me, I can't be without you. I don't want to be alone."

This is my journey. This is my path. I get to choose how to spend this day. I will not spend anymore time remembering the alone, the sad, the loss. I will take our girl and I will remember the good. We'll do something new, visit you at the lake and eat your favorite dinner.

I will put away the memories of my sighs, eye rolls and complaining. I will tell her again the story of us. I will share the funny times. That is where the life is. That is what matters.

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In The Middle

On Saturday, in the pouring rain, Kate and I (along with Mom, Dad, Justin and Kara) headed out to cut down our Christmas tree.

Scott and I loved cutting down our tree. The last few years though, it was just too hard on Scott. It was one of the few things we couldn't make happen. So we started the tradition of supporting a local nursery.
This year, I decided I wanted to reinstate the tree cutting tradition. I made the unfortunate mistake of getting a vision in my head. A vision I couldn't possibly fulfill.
But everyone put on their happy faces, except Kate who barely kept it together (in fairness to her, she was sick). We trudged out and found the least pathetic trees we could and cut them down. Soaking wet, frozen to the core and maybe a little disappointed we came home.

It's a tiny, sad, little tree that looks hysterical in my huge ass great room. It doesn't matter though. Kate and I picked it out together, put it up together and tonight, we decorated it together.

So many stories, moments and memories. Each ornament comes with its own piece of history. Not having Scott there to remember the stories, to share with, to sit with and watch the tree glow with... there are no words.

The last thing we did tonight was hang the stockings. I didn't know what I wanted. Hang Scott's stocking. Leave an empty space. Fuck stockings...
My mind swirled with thoughts. I just didn't know the right thing to do. So, I asked Kate what she wanted. That little girl never ceases to amaze me. Without hesitation she said she wanted it up.
"It would make him happy."
"But, Kate would it make you happy?"
"Yes, because he's always watching me and he believes in me."
"Yes, he does Baby."
"Can Daddy stocking go in the middle?"
"Of course it can."


What would I do with out her?

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Solitude

Sometimes the body, mind and soul need nothing but solitude. That's what I gave myself yesterday.

I want to thank everyone for the email, texts, messages and phone calls yesterday. To have so many people thinking of me (and Scott) on what would have been our 8th wedding anniversary means more than I can express.
I got through yesterday and I'll find a way to get through the holidays that lay ahead.
Lots of positive changes coming. Changes that I've been resisting. In fact, a little bit of that needs tending to now.

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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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Control

Control - as defined by Dictionary.com
1. to exercise restraint or direction over; dominate; command.
2. to hold in check; curb: to control a horse; to control one's emotions.
3. to test or verify (a scientific experiment) by a parallel experiment or other standard of comparison.
4. to eliminate or prevent the flourishing or spread of: to control a forest fire.
5. Obsolete . to check or regulate (transactions), originally by means of a duplicate register.

Why is it that the less control you have the more you crave it?
I can't possibly be the only person that this happens to.

I feel like my life has been out of control since Scott's death. Like everything is happening to me and not because of me. The world continues to move and I'm just stuck hanging on to the ship as it continues to sail like some kind of nasty barnicle. Nobody listening to my cries for the ride to stop so I can get off.

I'm used to being the Captain. The girl that gets it done.
Create the idea. Set the plan. And execute with precision. It's what I've done for so long I hardly recognize life without it.
Where did my "get it done" need go? Why am I spending more time "watching" than doing?

There things in my life (like in all of yours) that simply happen. Things that are, in the truest sense of the phrase, out of my control. I used to see this as a challenge. I would stand up against the unchangeable, look it in the eyes and fight it with every fiber of my being.
It's what I did for Scott's health for years.

Years and years, I dared his VEDS to challenge me. I would sit in the waiting room outside the Rush SICU waiting for news on the latest surgery and I would mentally fight his VEDS. I didn't barter with God. I didn't beg for mercy. I pictured the VEDS in my mind and I said "Fuck You!".

I remember this past Christmas I wrote that I just wanted my Christmas morning and then I would give the latest VEDS issue it's full and proper ass kicking.
I didn't give it an ass kicking. I didn't even pinch it a tiny bit. It kicked my ass. It knocked me right down, stomped all over me and took Scott away. The stupid mother fucker. It won. It won and I lost.
I lost my fight. I lost my control. I lost my love.

I have no choice but to find them again. They are what define me.

I must rebuild the things that I'm passionate about. The things that have been sitting by the wayside.
I'm working on it.

You all know the infamous Harley job that I've been taking pictures of for the past 9 months.
Remember,

The first piece of steel being set. I was there.


It allowed me to have a very special moment with one of the people I love most.


It reminded me that I was little fish in a very large pond.


The moment finally came...


The job is finally finished.
I certainly didn't finish it. I didn't do nearly enough to help.


I may not have done enough but I've gotten to experience a few positives from the job.


My photography skills have grown immensely. This building had some unique construction challenges that I learned from.


But it was being there during the final push that really showed me what matters.


True friends forgive you when you've failed them. They forgive you when you've lost control. They encourage you to find that part of yourself that was missing.
Most importantly, they love you in spite of your flaws.

As I seek to regain control, I will also be reclaiming my title of "good friend". It's been missing as well.

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