A Sue Memory: "Regular"

"You're saying that wrong, and it's driving me crazy." Sue told me.

"Saying what wrong?"

"The word 'regular'.  You say 'reg-lee-ur' but it should be 'reg-u-lar'"

They sounded the same to me.  I started repeating it over and over, "reg-lee-ur, reg-lee-ur..."

"That's IT!" she said, coming at me, "I am going to fix this."

See that sister on the left? She has just noticed that the sister on the right
talks like a baby, and she's going to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Don't
worry, middle sister, your Barbie Doll Cake is safe.

"How are you going to..." but she was already on top of me, my arms pinned on either side of my ears. I lifted my hips trying to throw her off, but she was STRONG. I was pinned in tickle-torture position. This would be bad.

Sue was skinny, but so strong it seemed superhuman.  She would pin me to the floor, tickle me until I couldn't breathe, then do it some more. And now, apparently, she was going to tickle me into a state of correct pronunciation.

"Here's how this is going to go. Say it right, or you're not getting up."

"REG-LEE-UR"  I struggled, kicking my legs.  Occasionally I could turn and give a good kick that would  land somewhere on her thigh or lower back. This didn't stop her, but sometimes distracted her enough for me to catch my breath.

"Repeat after me:  REG"
"REG"
"YOU"
"YOU"
"LUR"
"LUR"

"REGULAR"
"REG-LEE-UR"

We went over and over it. I repeated each syllable correctly, then pronounced the word wrong. She told me I was never going to get up. The struggle continued.

Somehow, after the 50th or so incorrect pronunciation, the stars aligned, heaven opened up and a chorus of angels began to sing:  I said it.  I said, "REGULAR". Something clicked and I could finally hear the difference between what she was saying and what I had been saying.

Sue smiled.  She said, "Say it again."
"Regular." I responded.

Sue got up, and pulled me up with her.

"Now don't say it wrong again. It makes you sound like a baby. Come on, I'll make you some Kool-Aid.

I seriously never pronounced that word incorrectly ever again. Sue knew how to get results.

New Landscaping, New Attitude

I need to tell you a story about my new landscaping.  I have hated the landscaping at this house ever since we moved here in November of 2010.  I also need to tell you that I am the worst plant person in the world.  I'm the very worst.  I don't know the names of plants, or the difference between annuals and perennials, or how to keep them from dying.  I can't tell what's a weed and what is supposed to be there.

Last year, 2013, we decided to finally do something about the landscaping. We hired our neighbor and friend Anthony, who lives on our street to help us out. The first step was the kill all the existing stuff in the flowerbeds. We did this. Then Frank lost his job. I had to call Anthony and tell him that we couldn't move on to the next phase.

Then we had an awful, horrible year and our flowerbeds were full of weeds and dead stuff.  It did not look good. Every time I looked at it, I felt stressed and annoyed. The nasty weeds were a symbol of how out of control life was. I couldn't control my circumstances or the flowerbeds.

Frank started his new job in April, and I immediately started thinking about getting the landscape project done. I had a few discussions with Anthony and he brought me a plan.  I loved it!

Over the last month, our flowerbeds have gone from every kind of weed, stick, and dead thing imaginable to this:

I have to throw in a quick Sue story here too.  She told me over and over when we moved in that we needed a Japanese Maple in this certain spot in the back. Then in the summer of 2011 she bought me a tiny one and we planted it there. Then it died (see my comments about how bad I am at plants). When Anthony and I talked about what to put there, I said that I wanted to eventually put a Japanese Maple there but that it was too pricey for right now.  He recommended that I do it anyway. He said that if I wanted it there, I should get one and put it there.

I'm so glad he said that. He was right. Today they put the Japanese Maple in while I was out. When I got home and saw it standing there so beautifully, I cried.

I never imagined that this not-a-plant person would ever cry at the sight of a tree. But I did. A lot.

I love everything they did in our yard. I am so happy and no longer feel stress when I walk outside of the house.

Anthony walked me through every step, giving me great advice. It helps that he lives in our neighborhood and knows the kind of soil and pests we have. He also kept in mind that my favorite color is purple.

This landscaping project has restored some peace in my mind and my heart.  Now when I walk outside I just smile and sigh. Believe me when I tell you, Sue would love this.

By the way, if you live near me and are stressed out by landscaping issues, call my friend Anthony at San Marino Outdoor Services.

Just Write: Benny Moments

I have linked this post to Heather at The Extraordinary Ordinary (a blog I love!) who has a weekly segment on her blog called, "Just Write", in which she encourages other bloggers to sit down and write about what is on their mind right that minute, without over-thinking or editing.  I'm happy to join in!

 Ben likes to poke his head into a room, flash a huge smile, yell out, "Enjoy your popcorn, folks!" then run off. We don't know why he does this or where it originated, but it makes us laugh.

Several times a day he brings me a chapter book, snuggles in beside me, and announces that I need to listen because he is about to count.  He counts each page out loud, this morning reaching 120.

He answers most directions with "I don't want to." and a lady next to me in a waiting room chuckled as I answered (for the 50th time today) "It's okay to not want to do it, but you will do it."  More and more this approach works.

He was so upset in a public restroom today because the toilet he was using had an automatic flush, and it kept flushing while he was using it.  He cried, big crocodile tears running down his cheeks, "This is just not working right!"

He keeps saying that he has decided to not go to Kindergarten this fall.  "It's because I already know everything that I don't want to go." he says.

His feet are dirty all the time.  We wash them, and they are immediately dirty again.  He runs around the backyard playing with the dog, rolling in the grass, building "houses" in the sandbox, and climbing trees.  He is so tan.  He can play with the hose for hours.

He climbs onto the couch, then into my lap.  "Will you hold me like a baby?"  he asks.

"Of course!" I say.

 And I do.

Okay, Can We Talk About My Birthday?

Let's talk about my birthday.

Here's the break down of this subject: For the rest of my life I will be celebrating the fact that I am still alive on the very same day that I am remembering the awful day of her death.

Every year it will be one more year of life for me, one more year dead for her.

Could there be a clearer recipe for survivor guilt than this?

How do I even begin to process this?  I don't have the foggiest idea.

I have been given many suggestions:  Have a low-key celebration.  Have a huge celebration.  Don't celebrate.  You should make the most of it and have fun anyway.  You will probably not have a very good day.  Just try not to think about it.  Do what she would want you to do.  You can't let that ruin your birthday.

All suggestions and opinions have been made by loving people, just trying to help me.  I appreciate every one.

I am having a milestone birthday this year, I'll turn 40.

How do I do this?

I am more grateful than I can express that I am alive, that I get to turn 40.  I am healthy.  I get to continue to raise my kids.  There seem to be no signs that point to me having anything other than a long life.  I want to honor the gift that is my life. I want as many opportunities as possible to celebrate all that I have, and feel all the joy that being alive for another year has brought me.

But.

She will be gone a year that day.  That day looms ahead of me as a reminder of all I have lost.  It represents so much pain.  The day holds the pain of her kids and husband, my mother and sister and kids.  Her friends, her cousins, her aunts and uncles will all remember that day as an excruciating sucker-punch from hell.

So.  What do I do?  Nobody knows, least of all, me.  It is still more than three months away, but I think about it a lot.  I don't know anyone who has lost someone on their birthday.  If I did, I would pick their brain for how they have been able to cope.

If I could call her and we could discuss it, it would most likely degenerate into a laugh-fest of horrible suggestions like, "I could have a coffin-shaped cake made with a little cake person inside with a thought bubble saying happy birth/death day to us!" or, "Too bad they don't make cards that say Happy Birthday! Sorry your sister is dead!  But have a great day!  Even though it will be awful!"

I'm working on this.  I might be working on this for a long time.  I need to be able to find joy in the celebration of my life while also honoring hers.

I can do this.

Just Write: Her Kids

I have linked this post to Heather at The Extraordinary Ordinary (a blog I love!) who has a weekly segment on her blog called, "Just Write", in which she encourages other bloggers to sit down and write about what is on their mind right that minute, without over-thinking or editing.  I'm happy to join in!

It is cooler than normal today, but sunny.  I am taking a few minutes to myself while the kids put away the groceries for me.  The eggs, bread, and cheese will all end up in weird, unexpected spots, but I don't mind. It is still better than doing it myself.

I'm checking the time, I have a half hour before my mom brings Sue's daughter over to play.  I think about how every day I wish I was being a better Aunt to her and her sister and brothers.  When I promised Sue I would help take care of them, I had no idea what that would be like.  There was no practical plan in either of our minds.  Sue's mother-in-law has quit her job to be with the kids during the day.  I am grateful for that but also sometimes feel that it is a failure on my part.  I told her I'd help, but what am I doing?

So I just keep writing stories about Sue.  My self-appointed job is to write down all the memories I can before I start to forget.  They might want to read these stories when they are adults.  They might want to know all about their mom the way I knew her.

I stumble along, not sure of anything on this journey, and I know I sometimes fall short of who I want to be. I am completely sure of one thing, though. I am so thankful that she left us with these two boys and two girls, they are like a healing balm for my aching heart.

All the cousins, November 2011

House Full of Boys!

This week is crazy!  We have our calendar jam-packed with kid activities, appointments, and errands. These are the times when I wouldn't be able to function if I didn't have everything written in my planner.  We would never be able to keep up!

Here's part of why I've been busy. This is what my couch looked like this weekend:

Six of the best boys on Earth!  They are ages 12, 14, 8, 5, 4, and 16.  Also note the random shoe in the foreground.  There are always random shoes all over my house.

Sue's two boys spent the weekend with us, and my sister Kate's little boy was around for awhile too.  And in the meantime, Natalie spent the weekend with Sue's husband and girls.  We had a kid-swap!

I don't often get a chance to spend time with just her boys and not the girls, so it was a fun experience. These boys, ages 14 and 16, talked and talked with me.  They both have great senses of humor.  We shared many jokes, laughs, and stories about their mother. I am reminded again and again how lucky we are that she left us with these kids. They are amazing!

Having 5 (and sometimes 6) boys for the weekend was a lot of fun for me.  But wow, can they eat!

I love them all, and feel so fortunate to be their Auntie/Mom.

Uncomfortable Realizations

This picture has nothing to do with this post, I just like it!

To be completely honest, I feel impatient with other people's issues.  I think I feel deep down that if a person has not experienced the death of a loved one, then they have no right to anything other than complete happiness at all times.  This ridiculous idea is making me not a very charitable or nice person.  I have a hard time being around other people because of it.  I don't really like myself this way, so I'm working on it.

I have also realized that I can go on and on about how other people should not tell me how to grieve, that everyone needs to let me figure out how to handle my own issues.  But then I can turn right around and tell someone else that I know just how they should solve their problems.  I am a hypocrite.

I don't talk about this much, but I started going to church almost two years ago.  I needed to try to find some answers, or at the very least, some comfort, during Sue's major health decline.  I think it is helping me.  I still don't know a lot of answers, but I do feel more peaceful when I take some time to take stock of my life, especially how I'm treating other people.  The main message I get from church is that God is love.  If I want to find more happiness, more peace, and more love, then I need to give love.  I need to always try my best to communicate love to others.

Today I am taking some time to think about how I can do a better job of accepting others, imperfections and all.  And speaking of acceptance, I hope to find some for myself as well.