Even though they are gone, they are still here

I hit a milestone on Easter that I never imagined I would hit, even a few months ago.  I woke up on Easter morning with a day of family celebration ahead of me and I didn't cry. I felt sad. I would much rather have been looking forward to spending the day with my dad and Sue, but that isn't our reality around here. I gave myself some pep talks leading up to the big holiday. I told myself that it was okay not to look forward to it.  It's okay to even dread it. Once I gave myself permission to be upset, I felt better. I didn't think I would have a holiday without crying, but I did.

I see Sue everywhere I look, it seems. On Friday night her boys came over to hang out and spend the night. I see her in them, and we have a lot of fun together.  Today her girls are here, and even though they are so busy with their playing, they pause for a moment to tell me something and I hear her coming through them. I see her in the fluffy robin that came to sit on the tree outside my window and just sat and stared at me. Sue loved birds more than anyone I know, so they remind me of her.

My Dad is around too.  I see him all the time in my youngest son. I feel him as I cook his recipes and hear his instructions in my head.  Make sure to season this well! It will be bland if you don't! I laugh when my boys and nephews do things that I know would make him laugh.  He was always so proud of his grandkids, and I know he still is.

I still have good days and extra tough days. I still have moments when something happens and my first instinct is to call Sue. I still feel like the rest of my life seems like an awfully long time to go without talking with her again. But I'm also getting used to all these feelings.

Lately I look forward to the future with greater optimism. Instead of feeling guilty that I will watch her oldest son graduate from high school next year, I feel fortunate.

I really should do more blogging, somehow I always seem to end up feeling like the luckiest person on earth when I step back and evaluate my life. How is it that life is so painful and beautiful all at once?

Much love to you all this Spring Break!

I Push Back

We sit at the dinner table, my kids and me. They ask me to tell them stories. They want to hear about

My picture quality is awful because
I took a picture of a picture,
but I had to show these two clowns,
Sue and Dad

Pop, and Gramps, and Auntie Sue. They are intensely curious about these people who are lost to us.

I mostly do okay now. I can talk about Sue, remember her, and laugh, without my heart feeling like it is being squeezed in a vice.  I still feel the loss of her strongly at different times, like when I hear a certain song or see a picture of her.  But I sometimes battle an underlying feeling of bitterness at the unfairness of it all.

I get angry for all I don't have. I am bitter about all that has been taken from my kids. And don't even get me started on how bitter I am about all that has been taken from my two nephews and two nieces. There is so much we are missing. It's overwhelming.

So what can I do with this anger and bitterness?

I guess I feel like I have two choices when they start to take over: I can lean into them, or push back.

I could sit down right now and write a one hundred page essay laying out all of the sorrows we have felt.  I could enumerate all of the future moments that will now be changed for the worse because we have lost Sue. I could go on and on about how DAMNED UNFAIR it is that we have suffered this loss while so many other people have all their family members alive and well. I could scream from the rooftops about our broken hearts, our trauma, and our collective grief.  And I have to say, sometimes I sort of do this.  Or, at least, I do it in my head.

Then when I'm done going on and on about how hard and awful it all is, I usually feel...worse.

This is what happens when I lean in.

When I push back, it works out a bit differently. I still feel the unfairness. The bitterness and anger either creep in slowly, or spark like a jolt of electrified negativity. I can tell it is there when I am thinking things in my head that start like, "I'll never have what that person has..."

But when I push back, I take a moment to feel that anger and bitterness. I tell myself it is okay to feel that way, but only for a very short time. The anger and bitterness can't stay, I push back against it. It takes too much from me and leaves me worse off than I was before. I don't get anything from it except more anger and bitterness.

I am not in charge of whether I feel the anger and bitterness, but I am in charge of how long I let it stay.

These days I'm working to push back against those feelings that pull me down. Sometimes I fail. That's okay. I'll just try again next time.

I am determined to keep pushing back.

Sick Day Thoughts

I'm sick this week. I have the stomach flu and have been feeling pretty awful for about four days. These four days just happen to coincide with the kids' mid-winter break and two snow days, so all four of the kids have been at home with me almost the entire time I've been feeling like this.

I have been very blessed to not get sick very often, so I didn't realize the emotions that would come up from this experience.

When I feel sick like this, and work to take care of my kids, I feel so much sympathy and empathy for what Sue went through.  It is HARD to take care of kids when you feel so terrible. She felt like this, or actually worse than this, for YEARS. How did she do that?  How on earth was she able to be a mother to her children at all during those years?  I'm in awe of my sister.

Today my heart is filled with so much gratitude that I am getting better, feeling stronger from this mild illness by the hour.  I'm so lucky to have a functioning immune system. I am so fortunate that I have the opportunity to raise my kids as a healthy person.

My Biggest Trigger

It makes me uncomfortable to talk about my struggles sometimes because it feels like I'm broadcasting my flaws and I want so badly to seem like I am doing okay.  When I thought about posting on this subject, I didn't want anyone to think that I have "emotional problems" which is sometimes how I feel when I deal with my biggest trigger. But then I thought about the person who may have just lost their loved one and stumbles upon my blog, I thought of that person and what he or she may be feeling, and I changed my mind.  I'll share it.  I'll share whatever I can to help someone who is in so much pain and wondering if they are losing their mind. 

Here's my biggest grief trigger: feeling like things are out of control in my life.

Not long into my grief journey, I read a book about what trauma does to the brain.  I can't remember the name of the book, or much else about it, but I do know that the main message I got from it. The book explained that when a person is traumatized, the brain takes kind of a "snapshot" of what all is happening at the time. It is a brain's mechanism for self preservation.

Let's imagine you just wandered out of your cave with your fellow cavewoman and she gets attacked by a lion. The brain takes this snapshot to remind you of important details like where you were, what you were wearing, what smells and sounds you experienced, to help you make sure you don't walk to the same place and do the same things and get eaten by a lion yourself.  The brain works overtime in these situations and says, "DANGER! REMEMBER ALL OF THIS SO IT DOES NOT HAPPEN AGAIN!"

It's the reason that some people might have a hard time wearing the same shirt they were wearing the day their mom died.  Or someone might not want to drive down that road where they were in an accident.  Or someone can't eat pudding anymore because they were eating pudding when they got the phone call that their husband had a heart attack and died.

At the time of Sue's death, my life felt like it was spiraling out of control in a lot of areas.  My husband had lost his job, our finances were a huge source of stress, and of course there was nothing I could do to save my sister's life.  When my brain took the snapshot on the day that Sue died, it wanted me to remember that I was feeling out of control in almost every area.  And because my brain is not perfect, it has made the connection that feeling out of control = somebody is going to die or is already dead.

So now that I know and understand all this, I should be able to figure out why I've locked myself in my bedroom, sobbing, during the second consecutive snow day, right?  No. You see, it's not just the snow day. First there was the furnace breaking down on Thursday, which meant I couldn't do anything I had planned to do because I had to drop everything to wait for someone to repair it.  Then on Friday Sam called home because he had a sore throat and I needed to drop everything and take care of him.  Then came a busy weekend, followed by a snow day a home with the kids, followed by another snow day with the kids.  There is now a pattern established in my mind that I cannot accomplish anything I would normally do. I put everything on hold for days to take care of the needs of everybody else.  I'm not complaining, this is my job and what I have chosen for my life, I'm just saying that when things spiral out of my control (or what feels like out of my control) I panic. And sometimes it takes me a long time to figure out why I feel so awful.

My brain is sounding alarms all over the place telling me that if I don't regain control, somebody is going to die.

There it is, my biggest trigger. I become panicked, sad, weepy, cranky, and fearful at these times. The best part is that I understand what is happening and why.  The worst part is that it doesn't seem to help much. I white-knuckle my way through these times and repeat to myself that a normal day is right on the horizon.

I'll make it though, but this is a difficult part of grief.

As My Kids Would Say, "Could You Do Me A Solid?" (Or Maybe Two?)

On June 17th, Sue's Birthday, I wrote this post, which I ended with the line, "Today I'm just not sure what to do."

Later that day an idea came to me, and I knew exactly what I should do.

For almost 8 years prior to her death, Sue was on immunoglobulin therapy, an intravenous treatment derived from the blood supply.  It's purpose was to boost her immune system by injecting her with little bits of the immune systems of thousands of people.

Sue and her little girl at a family reunion in 2007

Every Friday night, Sue would get herself comfortable in bed, and set up the IV system, which involved a pump and 5 needles that she would insert into her stomach.  Then she would watch a movie, knit, or talk on the phone while the medicine slowly entered her system.  It would take a few hours.

This was not something that cured her, or even kept her from continuing to get sick, but I do think it drastically slowed her illness.  Her bouts with pneumonia decreased dramatically.

Sister Kate and I had gotten in the habit of donating blood every six weeks.  I would tell Sue, "Don't worry, we are pouring our blood right back into the system for you!"  She would chuckle and say, "Thanks, on behalf of myself and all the other sickies!"

But life got very hectic. As Sue's illness progressed we needed to be by her side. As a result, our blood donation routine fell off the schedule.

On her birthday I didn't just want to sit around crying about her. (I did a fair amount of that anyway though, trust me.)  I wanted to find something to do that would honor her memory.  Blood donation was the perfect "something".

As I sat in the chair with that needle in my arm, all I could think was, "This could keep somebody else's sister alive."  I thought about how fortunate we all were that because of our community blood supply, Sue's quality of life was better.  We had her for longer than we would have without it.

As I left the blood donation center on Saturday, I made my next appointment.  I am committed to keeping up with my every 6 week schedule now.

What do ya say?  Will you do our Mom a solid?

So, here's the favor:  would you consider donating blood in memory of my sister?  It would mean a lot to me (and to the sisters of the people whose lives you save or prolong!).  There is a current shortfall in the blood supply, you can click here to find a place near you to donate.  Tell your friends!  Let's save somebody's best friend, mom, daughter, dad, favorite cousin, grandpa, boyfriend, fun neighbor, or SISTER!

There are some of you who can't donate for various reasons (hello pregnant cousin!) but you can still help! You could help by sharing, tweeting, whatever-ing this post to other people you know who CAN donate! (You could also just tell people.  Or, and here's a great idea, you could make an appointment for a friend, then tell them you are taking them to get a Slurpee, but take them to give blood instead!  Just kidding, don't do that, your friend will probably be mad.  But I'm sure you have other creative ideas in that head of yours.)

And then, (yes I'm asking for a favor on top of my favor) could you just leave me a comment or call me (I'm just assuming that everyone who reads this blog has my phone number.) and let me know that you did it?  It would seriously make my day, or my week, or my year!  If you live close by, I might even bring you some cookies for doing something so nice.  Now that's all the favors I'm going to ask.  For now.

I'd like to thank you all in advance, on behalf of the sickies!  (And sisters of sickies)

Birthday

Today is Sue's birthday.  She would be 48 today.  She would not like me telling you that.  If she was here, I would call her sometime in the mid-morning and sing "Happy Birthday" to her.  She would say, "Yeah, yeah, don't rub it in."

Then we would start to discuss her birthday dinner.  Our sister, Kate, Sue, and I would pick a date in the near future to get together and go out to dinner.  Sue would spend days deciding on the restaurant. Every time we would talk in the next week or two (however long until the dinner) she would bring up the dinner. "I'm thinking of having the Shrimp Alfredo!" she might say, or "How was the lasagna that time you had it?"

The day after her birthday we would talk about it again.  She would tell me what her little girls made for her, what her boys did or bought her.  She would mention the gift her husband had given her.  At some point in the birthday discussions, she would quote our dad. "Getting old is much better than the alternative!" She would laugh.

It is hard and strange to try to decide how to celebrate someone's birthday when they aren't there.  The day is for her, about her, but we can't share it with her.

Today, I'm just not sure what to do.

Happy Birthday, Sue.  I love you.

Knucklehead McSpazatron

Over the weekend, I went searching through my old email messages. I had done this previously and found the last several emails from Sue. They weren't very exciting. In fact they were sort of depressing. This time, though, I searched through my "sent" folder. For some reason this folder holds on to very old emails that I have sent, but often are attached to emails I have received. It was here that I found a small treasure.

In an email dated Monday June 16, 2008, Sue sent me the following:

"What are you, a Knucklehead McSpazatron? lol.  We forgot about check in today."

It is impossible for me to fully express how much I love this email.  Every time I think about it, I crack up. She was a master at calling me names, and being a goof-ball.  "Check in" refers to our practice of calling each other every Monday morning to talk about, well, everything.  Apparently, that day we forgot.  I'm so glad we did because now I have this email that makes me smile, laugh, and remember.

I hope you find some joy today!

Love,

Knucklehead McSpazatron

P.S. Speaking of Knucklehead McSpazatrons, here are four.