Category: Grief

Categories
Grief

Sunsets

This weekend, we went to Michigan City. It is an annual trip that we have taken for years. It is unique in that Steve never went on this particular trip with us. It was always just Jared, Shelby, Aunt Na and myself.

Although we knew this year was different, it felt comfortable and we were able to enjoy our time together. Because of the change of scenery, there were no memories lurking around corners and we got to enjoy beautiful lake waves and we weren’t riding waves of grief.

It was great to get away.

We ate good food, had too much ice cream, went shopping at the farmers’ market and enjoyed swimming in the lake.

But inevitably, we had to come home. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy and our ride home was very quiet.

When we got home, I envisioned Steve coming out to meet us at the car to help unload. (Crazy right?) My realistic self knew that wasn’t going to happen but the dreamer in me couldn’t help but wish this weren’t our reality. There was no one at home to greet us and no one to share our stories with. (If you know Shelby, ask her about her bathing suit debacle!)

I know that grief is very tricky and that it isn’t linear, but I can’t help but wonder when I will stop hoping that Steve is going to show up. Sometimes, I even question whether this is all just a bad dream and soon I will wake up.

But I know that is unrealistic. Even though at times I don’t want to accept it.

I know that I am blessed and that I have many good things in my life and ahead of me but I will say this: GRIEF SUCKS!

I can wake up each morning and try to focus on the positive and write down 3 good things but there is still a dark cloud over my head. At times, it blows to the side rather than hovering right above me but it is always there.

There is nothing anyone can say to make grief go away and there is no way to ignore it or to overcome it. You just have to sit with it…..

And if that isn’t difficult enough, you have to watch your children sit with it as well.

So, it is nice to “escape” for a little while.

I will admit, 6 months ago, I wasn’t sure we would ever go out again or smile again and we now have moments of laughter and happiness.

We are making progress.

But this is a really difficult journey.

And I will NEVER understand why it is our path.

But we are lucky to have a great support system and I am hoping that sharing our journey might help someone who is on the same unfortunate path.

I’ll end with this:

Shelby really loves Michigan City.

It is her happy place.

She made sure that both nights we were there, we made it down to the beach to watch the sunset. She was truly amazed at its beauty. Her love of the sunset, reminded me that beauty can coincide with sadness.

We just sometimes have to ride the waves to see the beauty.

Categories
Grief

One bite at a Time

When you teach Kindergarten, you often hear ridiculous jokes.

One that resonates with me right now is “How do you eat an elephant?” and the answer is “One bite at a time”.

I feel as if our grief can be seen as an elephant.

This ginormous elephant is sitting in the corner, and we have to somehow get rid of it.

We could ignore it….

We could try to eat it all at once…

Or we could eat it one bite at a time…

I know the only reasonable answer (although you wouldn’t really eat an elephant) is to eat it one bite at a time but I can’t help but wish I could just make it disappear with one big gulp.

This is in part due to my personality….

Although I am a kindergarten teacher, I am impatient in my home life. Steve used to always tease me that things needed to be accomplished in “Marci Time”- meaning immediately.

Well, the elephant in the corner right now, can’t be tackled in “Marci Time”. He needs to be dealt with one bite at a time.

And although I am taking small bites each day, nothing seems to be falling into place.

That elephant is still sitting in the corner…

I have come to terms with the fact that “Marci Time” isn’t reasonable when dealing with government agencies or businesses. That is out of my control.

But what is most painful and difficult to manage is that our hearts can’t heal in “Marci Time”.

I KNOW we are not where we were 6 months ago and I also know that we have taken a few bites out of our elephant. But it is a HUGE elephant!

I have days when I start to feel a little bit more like myself but then there are days when that elephant seems to have grown even bigger and harder to conquer.

There are days when that elephant seems to not only be sitting in the corner, but seems to be sitting on my chest.

I know that we have so many friends and family walking alongside us through this journey and I am extremely grateful for that support.

I know that so many friends and family wish they could just make that elephant disappear, but they can’t.

I even question why we are the ones that got the elephant.

No one should have to deal with so much pain.

But I am confident that we will continue to take small bites out of our elephant and hopefully, sometime relatively soon, he will not take up so much space in the corner.

Categories
Grief

Helicopters

Where we live, there are thousands of seeds falling from our Maple trees. We always called them helicopters as kids because they twirl around as they fall to the ground. Our neighborhood is covered with them.

Normally, I wouldn’t pay much attention to them except to tell Steve that I needed him to clean them out of the gutters because I worried that our gutters would be clogged.

This year, they are a bit more symbolic to me.

Each year, I plant a garden. Steve would always tell me not to get my hopes up because I LITERALLY never succeeded in growing anything. Even my cucumbers grew into funky c shape inedible things.

But I start each summer with a glimmer in my eye thinking it’s going to be different and I am going to have sooo many vegetables, I’ll be handing them out to neighbors and friends.

Last year, my friends built me an AMAZING above ground garden. They even helped me plant it and supplied special fertilized soil. I felt as if I was finally going to be able to share my vegetable wealth!

The only thing I succeeded in growing were mushrooms. And not the mushrooms you eat, the nasty fungus mushrooms that you pull out of your grass.

So…. another year with a failed garden in spite of basically having a garden tutor.

Last week, my friend came back over, physically MOVED the above ground garden and planted the vegetables I requested. He used a different soil and added manure… Not sure how I feel about that. But I REALLY want my vegetables to grow this year… so, I’m dealing with cow poop in my garden.

So, back to the helicopters… Each morning, I go out before work and I pick out as many helicopters as I can from my beloved garden.

When I come home from work, I go back outside and pick out MORE of the helicopters (and there are plenty).

Believe it or not, I go back out after dinner and remove the helicopters one last time before going to bed.

So, as you can see, these Maple seeds are a huge inconvenience and yet I am unwavering in protecting my garden and making sure not to let any Maple Trees grow.

As I was picking out the helicopters this evening, I realized the whole experience could be compared to my life right now.

I have built this amazing, beautiful, life garden.

Things were growing and succeeding in my garden.

Then, helicopters started landing.

First, Covid.

Next, Quarantine.

Then, Steve got sick.

Then, we lost Steve.

Then, we lost my Dad.

And in spite of it all, I kept picking the helicopters out of my life garden.

At first, I felt like leaving the helicopters there.

What was the point of picking them out?

My life had been forever changed.

Then, I realized I can’t give up.

I need to make sure that the helicopters don’t overtake my life garden.

I have 2 FANTASTIC children, a job that I love, a wonderfully supportive family and a house surrounded by neighbors that love me and watch over me.

So, I will continue to remove the helicopters from my gardens.

And I will remind myself that helicopters don’t fall year round.

I can make it through the helicopter season one day at a time.

Categories
Grief Resilience Strength

18 Weeks

Steve has now been gone for 18 weeks.

In Judaism, the number 18 stands for life. How ironic that today was the first time I actually counted how long it has been and it turned out to be 18 weeks. I suppose that could be considered one of those “god whispers” moments and I should look at it as a sign that we are supposed to be moving on with our lives although our family has been forever changed.

I can honestly say, that we are doing okay and although each of us has our triggers and moments of sadness, we are doing “life”.

When Steve initially passed away, there were many places I thought I would never visit gain. Menards was one of those places. Yet painting our house forced me to go there. I have to continue with the daily tasks of “life” and for those of you who truly know me, know I couldn’t pass up the 11% rebate.

I also teach and enjoy moments of joy and laughter with my kindergartners. Watching them sing and dance and hearing them talk about loving school warms my heart. I love my job even thought it has been so challenging. Another indication that “life” continues.

Although I am glad that we are moving forward, that comes with a bit of guilt.

Should I still be crying each day? Is it okay for me to laugh and enjoy time with family and friends?

These are difficult questions and people will often say, “Steve would want you to be happy”. Somehow, that doesn’t make any sense to me. He should be here with us doing the mundane tasks like going to Menards or making Amazon returns at Kohls. He should be here enjoying moments of joy and laughter. It doesn’t feel right to be doing these things without him.

I have friends helping fix the house and other friends planting my garden. I have walking friends and friends who just call to talk with me. If I ask for a favor, I can pretty much expect a positive response. I am blessed with a fantastic support system!

But, I have lost my sounding board and partner. While I have a tribe of AMAZING people surrounding me, I still feel the weight of the world on my shoulders and I still feel lonely.

I no longer look forward to weekends and I usually feel relieved when it is bedtime. My mom always teases me because I have always liked to go to sleep each night but now I like it because it’s several worry free hours. It’s an escape from my reality.

Grief is the most difficult thing I have ever had to face. And I have had several challenges in my life. You don’t know when it’s going to hit you and you don’t get a crystal ball to let you know when or if everyone will be okay.

What I DO know is we are doing it. We are putting one foot in front of the other and making progress. We are doing life and I have many of you to thank for helping us along this path.

Jared and Shelby continue to amaze me each day with their resilience and accomplishments during what has been the hardest year of their lives. They are doing life and doing it well! I couldn’t be prouder of them.

So, on the 18th week of missing Steve, I am making a wish for my life. My wish is that moments of joy and laughter will outweigh moments of sadness and that going to sleep will no longer be a means to escape my reality but a necessity to stay healthy and to live my best life. Here’s to 18…