onedayatatime

This past weekend we took a family road trip to Lake Geneva Safari.

You literally drive through small herds of animals (bison, ostriches, emus, llamas, yaks, donkeys, camels etc) with a bucket of food. The animals will walk up to your car, stick their heads inside and snarf down all of the food in your bucket.

It is both hilarious and kind of gross at the same time.

I didn’t care to feed the animals especially since a large percentage of them were covered in flies. But that didn’t stop them from walking up to my closed window and staring at me with the evil eye in hopes that I would roll down my window and pass them a bucket of food.

But Shelby and her friend had a blast feeding those crazy critters and Jared and I enjoyed watching them.

It was such a successful Sunday.

We ate a delicious breakfast, walked around downtown Lake Geneva and visited the Safari.

Our timing was impeccable at every juncture and we laughed all afternoon.

I was proud of myself for planning and implementing this really fun road trip.

We even made it home before major storms hit our area!

But, somehow, I still ended the day in tears.

I know that if Steve had been part of this field trip, that big old ugly bison head would have been completely in our car.

I know that he would have loved feeding all of the animals.

I know I should have been celebrating a successful day full of laughter and smiles but grief rears it’s ugly head at so many unpredictable moments.

Moments of great joy can change to sadness without any warning at all. When we came home from that safari, all I could think about was the fact that I didn’t even want to roll down my window and Steve would have loved every minute of it.

I even painted a scenario in my head about how he would taunt the buffalo with food to bring it’s head into the car and closer to me.

Grief doesn’t play fair. It changed my smile to tears in a matter of minutes.

I have made so much progress and done so many things I doubted I could do but I still struggle to understand why this was our fate.

I am more myself now. I go out more and try to make sure to stretch my comfort level a bit.

But, there are still days I find myself thinking this is all just a bad dream.

Even after 7 months, I find it hard to accept our reality.

But grief has also shown me that I am stronger than I ever thought I could be.

In spite of our loss, we continue on with our everyday lives.

I am so very proud of Jared and Shelby.

We have found our rhythm as a family of three.

We are all doing the best we can but since grief doesn’t play fair, we never know when it will hit us.

We have moments of sadness and moments of great resilience.

That is the reality of grief.

It is both empowering and debilitating.

I am hopeful that as time moves forward, we will not be caught off guard as often and we will see how much more life has to offer.

I am looking forward to having more wonderful family days that don’t end in tears but rather end in fond memories that we can cherish forever.

Throughout this journey, people have told me that I am strong. I don’t usually know how to respond because I’m actually not strong at all.

In fact, I often feel very weak and vulnerable.

I worry, feel sorry for myself and cry.

I was speaking with a therapist the other day and she brought this very topic up. She said, “I bet people say that you are strong all the time. I know you probably don’t feel strong. What I see in you is resilience.”

So, I looked up the definition of resilience and found ‘recovering readily from adversity’ and ‘bouncing back’.

Losing Steve was terrifying. When he got so sick from Covid, I remember thinking and even saying, “I can’t do this alone.”

I was not strong.

I didn’t fearlessly face each day.

In fact, I stopped eating and could barely get out of bed.

Wonderful friends, family and community members brought me meals for months because I just couldn’t get my act together to feed my family.

That was definitely not strength.

I eventually got it together because I HAD to.

My kids needed me. I am the head of a family and it was my responsibility to show my kids that life goes on.

So, I went back to teaching.

When the school year ended, I got a part time summer job to keep myself busy.

I got each of us a grief therapist and joined grief groups.

I went to the grocery store.

I went out with friends.

Not because I am strong, but because I am resilient.

I will not say I am the cover girl for resilience because I have not ‘recovered readily’ or completely bounced back.

But I am getting there.

When I tried to think of a way to explain the difference between resilience and strength, I thought of the petunia plant in my backyard.

I have a beautiful purple and yellow hanging flowerpot. If I forget to water it for just one day, all of the flowers droop and the plant looks dead.

But as soon as I water it, the flowers perk right up and the flowerpot returns to its original beauty.

That petunia plant is resilient.

But I would not describe it as strong.

I could easily knock all of the delicate blossoms right off of their stems.

It just takes a little bit of time and extra support for the flowers to survive. If I don’t give them the attention they need, they will die.

My flowers are not strong, they are resilient. They can bounce back.

Family, friends and time, are my water. They are helping me become resilient.

In spite of having moments of insecurity and sadness, I am bouncing back.

I have met many others who have lost a loved one and it is so very difficult to feel strong after loss.

But we truly don’t need strength.

We need to be resilient to adjust to a new reality.

Surviving the loss of a loved one requires a fight and we need to find our way back to living.

So, if you’ve recently lost a loved one, keep in mind it’s okay to not be strong.

Lean on others when you need to and if you need a little extra “water” to survive, then, drink up!

Here are a few things I have learned over the past few months:

• Keeping busy doesn’t stop the grieving process. I have taken on tutoring, a part time job, and home maintenance. I go for walks, exercise everyday and meet with friends. Here’s the thing: you cannot outrun grief. I try to keep myself as busy as possible but eventually, I have to stop. It is often in those moments that I feel like I was hit by a tsunami. I am brought back to the reality of losing a spouse and being a single parent. So…. keeping busy is a good strategy, but it definitely has it’s parameters. I am learning that slowing down and self-compassion are key to the healing process. It’s okay to stop and decompress. Even if it is painful.
• I will get knocked down, but I’ll get up again. (Bet some of you just sang a little song lyric as you read that!) Some moments just knock the wind out of you. And it’s usually at unexpected times. The important part is that I keep getting up.
• I have learned how I can be a better friend. I have friends that have been there for me no matter what. They are the friends that understand not to ask, “How can I help?” but instead ask, “What would you like on your taco?” I can honestly say, I’m not sure I was one of these friends before I lost Steve and my dad. I had never truly experienced the kind of pain that comes with losing a spouse and a parent. Now I know I need to do better. I know that the friends and family that have been there for me have literally pulled me out of the darkest places. It takes a truly strong person to stand by someone’s side while they are feeling so broken. I hope I can be one of those strong people.
• I want to be available for others. We all have busy lives, but when you are grieving, your life feels like it has literally stopped. You are in limbo watching everyone continue on with life. In your mind you keep questioning, “How is it possible that the world just keeps moving forward and I’m stuck here all alone?” I now realize how important it is to be available even if several months have passed since the loss. Life does go on, but it is so important to reach out to friends who are grieving. Hopefully, being present can help fill a little bit of the void.
• On the flip side, I have learned to accept people for who they are. Some friends are so uncomfortable with grief that they turn away or don’t even acknowledge your loss because they are fearful of your emotions. I have learned to not be hurt by friends who aren’t reaching out because it truly isn’t about me or our friendship, it is about their own experiences with loss. Friends fulfill different needs in our lives and some friends aren’t the friends you can rely on to help you with your sadness. And that is okay.
• Grief is not linear. I have heard this OVER and OVER and OVER again! It is my least favorite thing to hear. It is so hard for me to grasp that I may feel great one day but the next day, I am literally a puddle of tears. It doesn’t make sense that you can’t just progress and heal. I WANT to move on. I WANT to be able to continue my life without suddenly feeling lost and alone. Most of all, I WANT to know that everything will be okay for my family. But all of that takes time and hard work and as many of you know, I expect my grieving to be accomplished in “Marci Time”. I know that “Marci Time” doesn’t work right now.
• It’s okay to ask for help. I called a very good friend one day because I was feeling particularly lost. I apologized to her for always calling her during my saddest times. She responded with , “What if the roles were reversed and I was calling you when I needed support? How would you feel?” It was at that moment that I realized my truest friends don’t view supporting me as a burden. They view it as an honor. I hope my friends and family turn to me in moments of need. It is a wonderful feeling to be needed. So, it’s okay to ask for help. People don’t know what you need unless you reach out.
• Life is unfair. I cannot keep comparing myself to everyone else. We all have our burdens to carry and mine are pretty heavy right now. But hopefully, I won’t feel like this forever. Writing this blog really helps me put things into perspective and I hope by writing it, I am helping others heal. For whatever reason, I am able to put into writing how many of us feel while dealing with grief. Knowing that I am potentially helping others heal makes the weight of my sadness a little bit lighter. Thank you for reading my blog and following my journey.

Grief is like a boomerang. Not that I have a lot of experience with boomerangs, but I know if it’s thrown, it comes back to you. The further you throw it, the longer it takes to come back.

But it will come back nonetheless.

Last week, I felt really good.

I thought I threw that boomerang of grief pretty far. Unfortunately, while I was looking the other way, it came back and caught me off guard.

This week, we were able to tie up many loose ends for Sea Schor. We no longer have to worry about keeping fish alive or what to do with the store or his vans.

People are congratulating me that we were finally able to sell the store to an honest businessman.

I SHOULD be celebrating.

In fact, if you asked me last week, I would have said I am going to be enjoying a glass of wine once all of the business concerns were addressed.

But this week, I am heartbroken. All of the progress made with the business is bittersweet.

Steve worked REALLY hard to keep Sea Schor alive. He made sure all of his clients and employees became family.

He put way too many hours into keeping his dream alive.

We never realized his life would be cut short and that in the end his business wouldn’t really matter.

When it comes to money, employees and friends will forget all of the good things someone has done for them. People you trust and rely on, will do whatever it takes to get ahead.

Steve had a heart of gold and he would drop anything he was doing to help his clients, employees, family or friends.

I now see that is not how the business world is run. People easily forget good deeds once they are faced with the possibility of getting ahead.

That breaks my heart.

We have had to deal with disloyalty and dishonesty throughout this entire process.

I know Steve would be so very heartbroken to know that people he knew and trusted chose the paths that they did.

I also know that if he were able to beat Covid, he would have prioritized things differently and maybe spent less time at work and more time at home with us.

After all of his hours of hard work and dedication to Sea Schor, all I have left are business cards, pens and t-shirts.

So, I guess the lesson in this blog is for all of the people out there who spend way too much time at work trying to get ahead.

If you can, spend more time with the ones you love.

If you have to work long hours, call or text throughout the day to let your family know how important they are to you.

Money is great.

But in the end, your family won’t want more money.

They will want more time spent with you.

I have so many books about grief. I belong to 2 different grief support groups and I have a grief therapist.

But, here is the thing….

I REALLY don’t want to focus on my grief.

I want to focus on the life ahead of us. And that is so very difficult.

With each new challenge I take on, I gain strength and confidence, but I have NO clue what the future holds and that is terrifying.

Believe it or not, I am not a truly confident person. Sometimes, the most insecure people hide behind sarcasm and laughter.

I have so many people telling me how very strong I am.

But I am not. I have no choice but to take on the challenges that face me.

I wish I had a crystal ball and I could see what we will look like in 5 years. Heck, I want to see what we will look like in 5 months.

I am a creature of habit. Change has always been my enemy.

I am now forced to deal with DAILY changes and challenges.

When a challenge arises, I do not have my partner to bounce off ideas.

I have tons of friends and family but it just isn’t the same. Somehow, in this circle of mine, I still feel alone at times.

Each night, I close my bedroom door, turn off the lights and sleep on my side of the bed. (I keep wondering if I I’ll ever move into the middle of the bed…)

I received a book suggestion called Second Firsts by Christina Rasmussen and it is the first book I have read that said I won’t grieve forever. (To be honest, I’ve only read a few pages but it has already really resonated with me.)

Believe it or not, every other book, or resource I’ve read has said the grief will always be there, although it won’t dominate my life.

I have spoken to many grieving people and many say they still cry every day.

I need to know that crying won’t last forever.

When Steve passed away, my sister repeatedly told me, “I KNOW you will be okay.” And I really couldn’t see how.

Six months into our grief journey I now need to believe our future will include more happiness than sadness and that we will be MORE than okay.

I’m not saying we won’t miss Steve forever. We will.

But I need to know that it’s OKAY to be OKAY. (Kind of different than the book It’s Okay to Not be Okay.)

If you have never truly experienced grief (and I really hadn’t until this year), you can’t truly understand how pervasive it can be.

The grocery store is extremely difficult for me. I’m not sure why since Steve rarely went grocery shopping with me. But when I go, I often find myself stopping in an aisle and having to take a moment to catch my breath.

The good news is that at least now, I leave the store with groceries rather than an empty cart.

I also find that weekend nights are very challenging. Somehow, in my head, I have built up these images of all of my friends going out with their spouses drinking and enjoying date night while I sit in my home.

I know that isn’t the reality and that many of my friends are just like me, sitting at home on a Friday or Saturday night, but that doesn’t stop me from building amazing fantasy lives for my married friends.

Then, there are the moments when I feel content. And that is complex as well.

At times, when I am feeling okay, I feel guilty because I’m not sad.

I wonder if people will judge me for smiling or laughing when I just lost my spouse.

I sometimes think I should look like a grieving spouse and not be enjoying the life we are now faced with.

The other day, I had an interaction with Shelby and she smiled at me. It wasn’t a smile over anything dramatic or tremendous.

It was just a heartfelt smile.

I left her room feeling wonderful and wanting to store that smile in my heart.

That’s what grief is.

At one moment, you are barely breathing, not sure how to take another step and then you find your heart because your loved one shares a simple smile and it gives you the strength to carry on.

I am going to try to live by new mantra It is okay to be okay.

Even when you are grieving.

It has officially been 6 months since Steve passed away.

Half of a year.

On the one hand, it seems like forever.

On the other hand, it feels like only yesterday.

At times, I still think he will walk in the door.

At other times, I struggle to remember what his voice sounds like.

We have now celebrated Hanukkah, New Years Eve, Valentine’s Day, Passover, his birthday, and the 4th of July without him.

Shelby turned 16 on July 8th and got her driver’s license.

I knew we HAD to truly celebrate this accomplishment and because of that, this weekend our resiliency was once again tested.

We had a Sweet 16 Party.

It was the first time we have been with the entire family since Covid began.

Everyone came ready to celebrate. It was so nice to be with family and friends again.

It was surprisingly comfortable. There were a lot of smiles, good food and laughter.

Shelby enjoyed every moment and was beaming. She is a little like her mama in that her birthday should be viewed as a National Holiday. It’s the one day you truly get to celebrate you and she truly enjoyed it.

During her party, I found myself enjoying every moment.

I was able to celebrate Shelby without moments of remorse. I greeted everyone and made sure that the party was running smoothly.

When it was time to be seated, my sister stood by me as we waited for everyone to find a seat. It didn’t even register to me that she was probably standing by my side knowing that I might feel alone.

My sister is truly the best.

We found an empty spot and sat down.

There was only ONE empty chair at the entire party and it was next to me.

Everyone sat with their respective family and both of my children sat with other family and friends. Even that was an accomplishment because neither of them worried about being near me.

I really didn’t even think about the empty chair next to me.

A few months ago, I am fairly certain that the empty chair would have brought me to tears. I know it would have reminded me that I no longer have a spouse.

But this weekend, I didn’t even really think about it until the next day. I like to think that maybe, just maybe, Steve was sitting in that chair next to me taking in all of the joy and happiness of the day.

There are still many moments of sadness in our home. We each have our triggers. But I now know that we HAVE to celebrate the good moments even though we are missing Steve.

On this rollercoaster of grief, we had moments of calm and celebration this weekend.

I know we have a long road ahead of us, but I am thankful that we are now able to feel joy and happiness.

I hope Steve can see how well our children are doing and I hope he knows that I am doing the best I can to make sure our family is safe and secure.

There will always be an empty chair at our table but we will have to choose to celebrate around that chair and know in our hearts that Steve is sitting in that chair proud of our resiliency and accomplishments in the face of great loss.

People often describe grief as coming in waves.

I view it more as a roller coaster ride. And to be honest, I HATE roller coasters. I never rode them as a kid and you will never catch me on one as an adult.

Until now…

Grief is a crazy roller coaster ride that no one wants to be riding. You’re buckled in and forced to navigate turns: ups and downs with no way to disembark.

There are days when you are gliding along and doing great but then out of nowhere, you plummet down a steep hill and find yourself struggling to breathe.

That’s how I felt this weekend.

To be honest, I hadn’t been at the bottom in awhile.. We have been gliding along fairly well.

But holiday weekends are rough and I also have so many other looming issues that I need to take care of.

I found myself once again fearful of our future and overwhelmed with all of the challenges we are facing.

There are many things I need to take care of in the house to make it feel “safe” for us.

Steve was our handyman and I didn’t really worry about the upkeep of our home because I felt he would make necessary repairs.

What I didn’t know is just how many things needed to be repaired this year.

As soon as I finish one project, I discover another.

Now that my basement is waterproofed, I have to deal with the chimney.

Once the chimney is done, I need to handle the roof and gutters.

These are all projects I am not knowledgeable about and I didn’t foresee the house needing so much work.

I know NOTHING about home repair and yet I am charged with calling for estimates and talking to contractors and masons.

I need to make sure that no one is taking advantage of me and that I am getting the best price and quality work.

I’m not a huge fan of doing this.

Right now, I feel like I am plummeting to the bottom of the roller coaster ride. I am overwhelmed with all the things I need to do and the amount of money it will take to keep our home safe.

I know that we can do it and that I will slowly climb back up, but it’s hard to see the top when you are all the way at the bottom.

This is when I need to remind myself to take one day at a time and that I have a village to support me.

Doing these projects without the help of Steve is overwhelming and I know that it cannot all be accomplished in “Marci Time”.

That drives me crazy.

I want it done NOW.

While I am not in the greatest spot on our roller coaster ride, we have had many more moments of joy and laughter.

I have been able to go out with friends and enjoy boat rides and shopping excursions.

Even though 6 months have passed, my family and friends are still taking great care of us.

The kids and I have fallen into a routine and we are trying to move on with our lives.

Shelby is turning 16 on Thursday and we are looking forward to celebrating this monumental birthday!

Both Jared and Shelby got jobs and they are looking forward to working together!

I guess we just need to learn to ride the roller coaster and understand there will be many unexpected twists and turns.

The nice thing is that we are not alone on the ride and we are buckled in together.

I’m just hoping that with time, we have more ups than downs and that the ride slows down so we can finally unbuckle and enjoy the rest of our lives.

I just did something I NEVER would have done 6 months ago.

Most of you won’t be super impressed with what I did but I’m pretty proud of myself.

I have been trying to clean out my gutters since the Helicopter Apocalypse in the spring.

But lets be honest, I’m 5’2 and no ladder can really get me high enough to take care of this task. (And I am DEFINITELY not walking on my roof.)

Today, when I dropped Shelby off at a friend’s house, I saw men on a roof cleaning out someone’s gutters.

I knew I should stop and get their contact information.

But I was terrified. Because that’s just not me…

I’m not a big fan of talking to strangers.

But it just won’t stop raining here and my gutters are still stuffed with helicopters and gunk.

After the last few storms, I basically have a moat around my house.

So, I drove past the men and stopped at the end of the street.

I did a little self-talk, took a deep breath, turned around, got out of my car and asked them if they could give me an estimate.

You may think that is not a big deal.

But to me, it was huge.

I never would have stopped prior to Steve’s death.

Steve was handy and if he couldn’t fix something, he always had a connection that could do it. I didn’t have to deal with those things.

Now that I am completely in charge of home maintenance, I need to either learn some new skills or ask for help.

Since I’m especially uncomfortable with talking to people I don’t know about things I’m unknowledgeable about, asking for help isn’t easy for me.

So, I’ve had to stretch myself to make sure that things are fixed in our home.

I’ve had to make appointments for waterproofing my basement, had the electricity rewired and I’ve even called to find out about tuckpointing our chimney. (I didn’t even know the word tuckpointing existed until a few months ago.)

These are all things I knew NOTHING about.

But I’ve pushed myself outside of my comfort zone because I HAVE to.

When Steve passed away I wasn’t sure how we were going to survive.

I was the caregiver of our family.

This meant my job was taking care of the kids, the pets and the meals. I was in charge of everyone’s well-being.

The maintenance of our home was not in my job description.

I had NO clue where to begin once he passed away.

Who would plow the driveway? (And of course, this was the year that it just wouldn’t stop snowing.)

Who would mow the lawn?

Who would make sure the back up sump pump was working on rainy days?

Who would fix the sinks when they backed up?

Who was going to be my sounding board when I needed to make decisions?

My friends and family all told me that I would be okay.

They reassured me that I could hire people or ask for help. That I had a tribe that was going to support me.

But I just couldn’t see it through my grief.

I felt like my world was going to fall apart because I was a widow. (That word in, and of itself, is overwhelming.)

But I have found a new strength in myself that I never knew existed.

I’m not saying that I am no longer grieving or that I don’t have some really tough days.

It still seems surreal and there are times that I think Steve is going to walk through the door.

I have days that my anger and sadness are so heavy that it’s hard to even breathe.

And I can’t, for the life of me, understand why WE are the family that lost someone to Covid.

But, I am moving forward and I am doing the best I can.

As I was writing this post, I looked outside and a rainbow appeared.

It seems pretty symbolic that as I am writing about weathering our storm, a rainbow appeared in the sky.

I truly hope there is a rainbow at the end of our storm……

I have had to face many challenges over the past 6 months but through these challenges, many lessons have been learned.

I have learned that it is okay to ask for support.

I have learned that most people really want to help.

I have learned I can do many things that I never knew I could do.

I have even finally accomplished growing zucchini! (Thanks to the help of friends of course.)

But I have also learned that people will take advantage of loss.

I will admit I do not know much about Steve’s business.

Running a business is not in my wheelhouse.

I am not part of the business world.

What I DO know about Sea Schor is that Steve treated his clients, friends and employees like family.

He would take calls at all times of the day and he never thought twice about dropping everything to help a client or friend in need. (Even when it wasn’t fish tank related.)

He always made sure to connect with everyone on a very personal level.

He knew his clients’ children’s names and where they went to school or what they did for a living.

If there were small children in the home, he would make sure to bring out the Donald Duck voice that always got a smile.

Unfortunately, I have learned that not all people in the fish business hold those same high moral standards.

I have learned that lesson from Dave and Sergio.

Dave was Steve’s friend. He owns Marine Concepts which could be considered a competitor of Sea Schor but wasn’t while Steve was alive.

Steve and Dave supported one another.

Dave rented a small area in Steve’s store for a minimal rate because Steve didn’t have the heart to charge him more.

Dave often called looking for advice regarding his own fish tank business.

Marine Concepts and Sea Schor consulted each other as needed.

Although Dave and Steve could have fought for the same accounts, they didn’t. They respected each other’s “space” and left each other’s accounts alone.

UNTIL NOW.

Sergio was Steve’s employee for many years.

Steve paid Sergio a nice salary.

Steve made sure to take good care of Sergio.

When Steve got Covid, one of his first concerns was that he gave it to Sergio. Even while he was coughing and could barely breathe, he was calling Sergio asking him to go get a Covid test because he was so scared Sergio may have caught it from him.

When we knew the business needed to be sold, we offered it to both Dave and Sergio.

Dave and Sergio each had their own reasons for declining to purchase the client list.

So we had to find a another buyer. We decided we would only sell to a company that would keep Sergio and pay him a good salary.

Sergio was a priority for us.

We were lucky to find Aqua Moon.

Aqua Moon offered Sergio a nice salary with benefits. We were ecstatic that we found the perfect fit for Sea Schor!

Sergio turned down their employment offer. I couldn’t understand his decision.

Dave decided he would no longer rent space from Sea Schor. He opened up his own shop for Marine Concepts not far from Sea Schor’s location. Suspicious right???

He assured us that he was using the warehouse for storage and that it was not going to be competition for Sea Schor.

We naively believed him and continued discussions to sell the client list to Aqua Moon.

Then, Sergio abruptly quit without giving 2 weeks notice.

We no longer had anyone to service our tanks.

That left us in a really hard spot. We had living creatures to take care of!

That’s when I learned that Dave and Sergio were not loyal to Steve, Sea Schor or my family.

Dave hired Sergio for Marine Concepts.

Instead of purchasing the client list when they were provided the opportunity, they went behind our backs and contacted Sea Schor customers to try to get them to sign on as Marine Concepts clients.

So here is the hardest and newest lesson I have learned:

While I have a wonderful tribe of friends and family surrounding me during this difficult time, there are still people who will do whatever it takes to get ahead in this world.

Steve considered and treated Dave and Sergio like family.

They didn’t even think twice about stealing clients from a widow with two children.

Marine Concepts is openly soliciting Sea Schor clients. This is unethical on so many levels.

Sergio is presenting himself as the face of Sea Schor and this is the furthest thing from the truth.

Right now, I am so disheartened and saddened by the lesson I’ve learned from Dave and Sergio.

I guess in the business world, you can’t expect loyalty.

One of my oldest and dearest friends used to always tell me to stop expecting others to treat me the way I treat them.

I guess I never really learned that lesson.

I will always treat people with respect and dignity.

I will always fiercely protect the people I love.

I will always choose to be loyal and honest.

That’s probably why I am a kindergarten teacher.

I teach kindness and I practice what I preach.

Today is Father’s Day. Many will be having barbecues and brunches and opening presents.

It will look very different for us. It will be a typical Sunday at the Schor House.

I will try to keep us busy with typical errands. Making returns at Target and Nordstrom Rack are on the top of my list.

Jared is lucky. He gets to attend the Cubs’ Game with Mike and hopefully, that will help his keep his mind off of the title of this day.

That’s how I’m trying to look at it. It’s just the name designation for today.

It’s hard to believe that we actually have no fathers in our lives to celebrate. My children don’t have any surviving grandfathers and I lost my own father a week after we lost Steve.

So today is just SUNDAY.

I will be cognizant of the fact that my children are really hurting and I will do my best to keep us busy and distracted.

I received a lot of opinions on how to handle the day.

But when the kids and I sat down and talked about it, we decided that today would just be a Sunday.

We aren’t ready to do all of his favorite things.

They aren’t ready to visit the cemetery.

So today is just SUNDAY.

I will avoid social media and we will spend time together doing mundane things.

I am certain there will be tears involved but I also know that we have made so much progress.

We have our sad days, but we also have happy days.

Laughter is now heard in our home and we have fallen into a routine of some sort.

I realize that I have a lot of work to do as many of the things that were very important to me while Steve was alive have fallen to the wayside.

Cooking family dinners is on the top of my list.

But I also know that I have been more resilient than I had ever expected.

I vividly remember lying in bed while he was in the hospital staring at my dressers and thinking, “He CAN’T die. I won’t know how to manage everything. There is NO way I can do this alone!”

And here I am doing it!

I have had our basement leaks repaired.

Had our electrical box replaced.

Used a snow blower AND a leaf blower.

Hired a contractor to add can lighting to our home.

Taken BOTH children on doctor’s visits and even had Jared at the ER.

I’ve had to check WIDOWED on an application.

Applied for Social Security benefits.

Taught Shelby how to drive.

Bought a used car, license plates, insurance and registration for that car.

Figured out how to get the kids where they needed to be in spite of being the only driver and working full time.

Kept a garden and flowers alive when it actually refuses to rain where we live.

Asked for help when I needed it…

I’ve even gone out socially with friends.

While these may seem like simple tasks to many, they are things that are hard to do when you are used to having a partner by your side to help make decisions and to take on some of the responsibility.

They are things that are hard to do while grieving.

Yesterday, I saw a post of FB celebrating all of the moms who take on the responsibilities of both parents.

So, I guess that is now me…. I am both parents… and I will continue to work hard to make sure our family is okay.

So, once again, today is just SUNDAY because that is what we need it to be.

For all of my friends and family that get to celebrate Father’s Day today, don’t take it for granted. Hug your Father’s tight and give them an extra hug from the Schors.