It is clear that the Kubler-Ross model of Death and Dying is a far cry from the current beliefs on the grieving process. In spite of that, most information that I have come across marks the arrival of acceptance as a key milestone. But, what happens after acceptance is not clear.

It makes sense that no two people will grieve exactly the same. Regardless of my agreement with this fact, I wish there was a road map that I could check my progress against. I think that it might be helpful.

While my children sometimes question if it is really good to talk about their father's death, I know that it helps me to write and talk about it. Sometimes I write down my thoughts on various note pads, and other times I share my thoughts with the blogosphere at large. Whether or not I share them, it is therapeutic to get it out.

Continue reading "After acceptance" »

Posted by Juls at 6:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

The morning was somewhat dedicated to my birthday celebration - well, an hour was anyways. In spite of my taking my expectations down a notch from prior years, in addition to some well meaning emails, calls, and gifts, the day has fallen short of what I would call a "celebration."

I don't know what I was expecting and I wonder if I had any chance of today being "happy" in the first place. It seems that no matter what anyone does, the voice in my head destroys all enjoyment with a critical judgment.

My special breakfast was an infusion of cholesterol and grease. It was the breakfast that Tom would have wanted, but not what I wanted.

My birthday gifts were wonderful gestures. I received a digital frame and an radio/iPod speaker and alarm clock. The voice in my head has passed criticism on these too. Not only does it not match my room, but I have an alarm clock, and also a speaker system for my iPod. As for the frame, it has to be plugged in.

Honestly, these gifts are great and I should be happy. BoBo was so sure that I'd be thrilled with it. I am disappointed that I am not. I don't know why I can't just enjoy them for what they are - gifts. I wonder if I can appreciate anything.

The kids were too noisy and so I let BoBo go out when he asked. Of course he was in no hurry to return. Now I feel unimportant as he keeps coming up with excuses for why I can't pick him up. His new skateboard is in somebody else's car but they aren't where the car is right now. I'm lucky that I can even reach him by phone and he thinks I'm "gay" for "freaking out" all of the time.

Continue reading "Pity Party" »

Posted by Juls at 5:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

It's two days until Christmas and just past another change in seasons. These changes (solstice and equinox) are another mark of time passed since Tom's death. I have a new rush of melancholy. I often think of my own death and easy that would be.

It's hard for me not the think that Tom chickened out; he took the easy way. I guess I am angry too. I watch my kids and hear BoBo talk of what's wrong. It's more of the same. No matter how hard I try, I just can't fix it. It feels like all my fault. I try to make it right with more time together, a tutor, and the new dog. It's no use.

When I run, it's worse. I am alone with my thoughts and they aren't fun. I have my own hurt and I would rather not feel it. When will it end?

Unfortunately, I know the answer is never.

Posted by Juls at 11:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The number of Christmas cards arriving in my mailbox this year is small. I guess people just don’t know what to say. Who can blame them? I didn’t know what to say myself, and I just don’t like sending out the card without a little personal, handwritten note. So my batches have been few and far between. Batch two went out in yesterday’s mail and I still have to hit my side of the family.

Then there is the shopping. Somehow, I lost momentum on that. I forgot some of the key items that seemed so obvious before and have since slipped my mind. I fear that on Christmas morning it will look like Santa forgot to visit.

I’ve tried to limit my shopping to pretty much the immediate family. It’s hard to do that when gifts start arriving on you desk at work each morning. I take a deep breath and remind myself that I can’t take on the added pressure of finding a small gift for my co-workers in my department. I just don’t have the energy.

Yet I had every intention of bringing a little gift for my friends in bereavement “group.” My plan was to give the girls pretty journals that they could use to write in. I thought that perhaps they could use writing as a healing, as I do. I’d visited the journal section at Borders Books, but none of the options appealed to me. So, in my pickiness, I left without buying anything at all and arrived at group empty handed. To my surprise, I was the only one empty handed. They had all found the time to find the perfect gift for me. What was my problem?

How is it possible to walk in and out of so many stores and still not buy a thing? I just don’t feel the holiday spirit. There is no joy of giving this year as I can’t seem to find any gifts that give the message I want to give. I want my gifts to say, “I see you for who your are” and because of that “I found the perfect gift.” Instead, I sneer at the package carrying people with anger.

I, like the Grinch who stole Christmas, often view the world as if they were the Whos down in Whoville (an endlessly cheerful bunch bursting with holiday spirit), and have become so sickened by their joy in the season that I barely fall short of hijacking the holiday from those that I care for most. I know this isn't me. I try to avoid all Grinch-like actions; however I fear that I have been predisposed to the manifestation of these tendencies. I desperately want to be more like Cindy Loo Who than the Grinch. Then I remember that even little Cindy was searching for the “true meaning of Christmas.”

Dr. Seuss once explained, "… the Grinch in my story is the Hero of Christmas? Sure... he starts out as a villain, but it's not how you start out that counts. It's what you are at the finish." I’ve got four days to make the transformation from villain to hero - four days to find that true meaning of Christmas.

Posted by Juls at 3:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

The end result of the raindrops falling on my face was my waking up. As if hibernating, my new found alertness was vastly different than the protective bubble that I have been sitting in. There are no roses to smell, even here in California, as it is nearing the winter equinox. Still, all of my senses were aroused into a playful awareness.

I looked around to see gray skies with a back drop of amazing colored leaves on the trees and on the ground. The birds sat on fences nearby and watched as I ran past. They seemed to be taking in my presence as much as I took in theirs. With each turn, I was fascinated with an intense awareness of how breathtaking a gloomy day can be. I was more amazed that I was actually experiencing it.

On this murky, yet peaceful, day there were only four runners were out on the trail. We waved as we passed each other, acknowledging the dedication to each of our journeys. I smiled as I listened to the sound of our feet splashing through the puddles.

I finished my run, soaked to the bone and content that I had found some separation from my grieving in order to experience life with a little more intensity and appreciation, even if only for an hour.

Posted by Juls at 1:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Once upon a time, when a day really felt like 24 hours worth of time, people would advise me to cherish my children’s youth. “They grow up so quickly,” they would say. I would acknowledge the comment with a nod and think them silly for making the statement. Time is a constant measure, and certainly my son would grow at the usual rate.

Indeed, when young BoBo was in his terrible twos, he seemed to defy all norms. He moved as if propelled by a tornado, and bounced right back up from each of his falls. All the while, I was wishing that the time would speed up just a little bit so that the terrible twos would end. He wore me out. In a flash they were gone, only to be replaced with the trying threes. But as BoBo grew more capable with each passing day, I began to realize that time was passing too quickly. At that point, I was wishing that time would slow down.

When BoBo was in pre-school he learned about “Apricot Lincoln,” and the miraculous birth of Jesus. He wowed us in the school concert when he recited, “R is for reverence, warship and praise.” He drank in the holiday magic as much as he enjoyed opening his presents. Then one Christmas BoBo stopped believing in Santa. My husband, Tom, and I had figured that it was only a matter of time before the opinions of the older kids would sway him. Even thought I was anticipated, it was still very disappointing.

Tom pulled BoBo aside and reminded him about miracles and just how wonderful believing had been. He pointed out, to BoBo, that YaYa deserved to enjoy the magic of Christmas too. BoBo understood the message loud and clear, and asked if he could help make the magic for his little brother. We agreed.

That Christmas, at BoBo’s suggestion, we began leaving carrots for the reindeer as well as cookies and milk for Santa. BoBo helped YaYa to let Santa know that he had been good by writing the letter to Santa. He even made sure that Santa ate the cookies and milk, and the reindeer ate their carrots. He even saw to it that Santa wrote back to YaYa. It was the only year that Santa took the time to write a note back to any of the kids. It was truly a special year.

Continue reading "Do you believe in miracles?" »

Posted by Juls at 2:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Another six-week session of bereavement support group is nearly done. As before, I want to assess how I have progressed. My improvement is not as apparent this time. I feel more broken than before.

Today we talked about grief in a way that is different from the stages presented by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. Instead of a linear progression through stages, it was presented as a multidimensional process that waxes and wanes through time. “How much time?” that’s what I want to know.

I don’t recall at what point I quit counting the day, weeks, or months since my husband’s death. One day I realized that the 21st had slipped past without me falling deeper into my grief as I normally would each month. The thing that I miss about my monthly exacerbation of grief is the predictability of my falling apart. Although I am still able to cross off another month survived, there is no longer any roadmap to the path. This whole idea of a multi-dimensional (emotional, mental, health, spiritual, etc.) process that has ups and downs without any linear path is pretty unsettling.

I am trying to conquer the many dimensions of grief and mourning that manifest as depression, scattered thoughts, despair, anorexia, insomnia, and ill faith. It takes a lot of effort to do this and there are times when I wonder if it is worth it. Then I look at my sons and realize that if I gave up, they might too. I can't let that happen.

Continue reading "Multidimensional mourning" »

Posted by Juls at 10:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

There are days when, given a choice, I would choose to crawl underneath a rock and let the day pass without my knowing. Then, there are days where I am afraid that I will miss out on some critical moment if I were to go to sleep. I suppose, for self-preservation, there are reasons for either of these scenarios. Fortunately, for the kids and me, life doesn’t allow me to crawl under that rock. Still, there are those days.

As far as running goes, I have a similar set of choices. In the past week, I have allowed myself to be under that rock. Coach has allowed me this as well. But, last night the email came asking if I was ready to hit the road. My reply indicated that I wasn’t. Somehow, Coach knew that I would pull up the training plan online. Somehow, he knew that if he entered a few easy workouts that I might lace up and give it a try.

The weather has been perfect for running the past few days, and today was more of the same. At lunch, I laced up my shoes, stretched, and went in search of my happy pace. It wasn’t easy to find. First, there was that I-haven’t-run-in-over-a-week breathing. Then, my calf, ankle and foot all needed to let me know that they were stiff. You know, these are all side effects of being all crunched up under that rock.

Once the kinks were worked out, with a whole lot of stretching (before, during and after), I did find my happy pace…finally. I had about a mile to let my mind wander as my body took me for a ride. It is hard crawling out from under, but worth it.

Posted by Juls at 8:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I am not sorry that I did not BQ. I am happy that I got a taste of what it could be like to finally accomplish that goal. I know that in time, I'll get it.

It was clear to me, in the time between Chicago and CIM, that my marathon goals are not currently driving me. Jeff and I worked toward me running the best marathon that I could. We both knew full well that my heart was not in the latter part of my training efforts. Because of this, I purposely did not blog about the marathon in the months leading up to race day. I *wanted* you to forget about it.

The best part about CIM weekend was being able to take a mental break from the worry that I am always in. It seems so hypocritical and selfish at this point, but I was at a point were I truly felt beyond help. YaYa's football season ending on marathon day was the result of my prayers for help.

The moment that I stepped foot in the door, post marathon, the responsibility and worry all came flooding right back. "Wait", I screamed, "don't I get a few hours to ease back into this?" The answer was clearly a "No".

The suitcases said it all; my boys were home, or more accurately, they weren't. I called BoBo's cell, but there was no answer. I was just too tired to be dealing with missing children. I hoped that they were at the neighbors, but they weren't. As it turned out, they were chillin' behind the local drug store. They were fine (relative term), so I picked them up and brought them home.

Continue reading "Sick with worry" »

Posted by Juls at 7:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

In the lingerie department at Nordstrom a sales clerk brought me a couple of bras to try on. They were not the pretty bras that I wore in my 20s; they were the functional type. She left me in peace to try them on and make a decision on whether or not to purchase them. I looked in the mirror at my image and wondered how it all happened.

I already had the answer. It was aging. "After you reach 40..." my doctor had said, "the hormones change and your body responds..." Screw change - I've already had more than my share of it.

I always thought that your breasts got smaller as you aged. They aren't needed anymore for feeding babies. Mine aren't needed for *anything* anymore. I guess Mother Nature has a sick sense of humor. Rather than just letting them shrink away, she changes the breast glands to fat. Fluffy fat cells are taking over all of my body.

I lingered in the department, looking at the pajamas on the sales racks. The more I looked, the more depressed I got. I've been wearing my grandma's flannel nightgown to bed for years now. It's not real flattering, but they are comfortable and warm. The problem with Nordstrom's pajamas section is that the pjs are either too sexy or too much like grandma's old lady pjs.

While I want to shed the dumpy look, I can't be wearing sexy pjs while in a house of raging boy hormones. I just wanted something soft and pretty. I finally selected a pink shirt that would go with the pajama pants that I have at home. It will do for now. By the time I checked out at the register tears were filling my eyes.

I took my bag of ugly bras and the pink shirt from the sales clerk, then I walked *briskly* out of the store, through the mall, and towards the parking lot. All around me were Christmas decorations and happy shoppers, strolling along as slowly as they possibly could. These people were what was between me and the safety of my van. I wanted to plow right through them and yell at them. MOVE IT. I wanted to call someone who would just listen.

Continue reading "Melt down" »

Posted by Juls at 10:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Other than the dreaded Christmas cards, I haven't given the holidays much thought. It seems impossible given all of the commercials on the radio and the decorations in the stores. Seriously, I have just refused to acknowledge the impending holidays.

Well, I *have* unconsciously been doing a few holiday things. For example, I bought a star for the top of the tree last week. We've been trying to find the right tree topper for the past few years. I saw this one and though that Tom would have liked it. I don't exactly know why that matters anymore, but I bought it. I also bought Tom's yearly ornament. I don't have anyone else in the family's, but I have his.

I know that the holidays are on their way. I am sort of unconscious in my participation and planning.

A couple of weeks ago, the flyer for the neighborhood tree thing landed in my mailbox. We participated last year for the first time. The whole neighborhood buys a little tree for the front yard and lights it up. I looks really cheery to drive up and down the streets filled with rows of lit holiday trees. I ignored the notice; I just set it aside and forgot about it. Then the signs when up saying "Tree $ due." I ignored that too. Finally, a second notice.

After receiving the second notice, I thought about my apathy. Should I just write out the check for the tree? I still can't say why I was refusing to play this year. Perhaps, if my tree resembled the feeble Charlie Brown tree, it would have felt more appropriate. I guess I just wasn't ready to let the holidays into my reality. It's just easier that way. Right?

Well, the bereavement group facilitators thought otherwise. They thought that we, the bereaved, should actively think about these things ahead of time and do some preparation. They even hosted a workshop on it.

As I said, I really had not given the coming holidays much though. I realize that I am planning to go south for the winter (like a bird, only driving). We're going to spend Thanksgiving in Seal Beach with Tom's family. I guess I am just thinking of the trip as a family gathering (rather than the holiday that it is). I am pretty sure that I'll be okay. I actually had a trial run last weekend with a very relaxed Thanksgiving type gathering at Lil' Sis' house. BoBo took Tom's spot beside me at the table, so it was okay.

I actually think that I must have been slightly intoxicated after only a few sips of wine. I am sure that I heard myself inviting my family over for Christmas dinner - AT MY HOUSE - ON CHRISTMAS DAY!

Continue reading "Now that you mention it..." »

Posted by Juls at 4:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

I've already told the story of how Tom and I married in a hot air balloon. It was a great way to kick off our journey together.

Continue reading "My Wedding Anniversary" »

Posted by Juls at 6:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Otherwise known as The Day of the Dead, the "Dia De Los Muertos" is supposed to be a celebration. But I had my reservations when asked to join Big Sis and Bro-In-Law for the occasion. My head said that I wasn't ready to "celebrate" my husband's death. I didn't want to subject my children to it either. I was assured that it would a happy event.

Even this morning, as I ran with Cindy, I complained about how I wasn't up for the drive or the festivities at hand. I had much to do as I am leaving at 5:45 am for a business trip (training). My refrigerator was essentially empty, I needed to make keys for those caring for the kids and the dog, and I still needed to pack for the kids and myself. It was an overwhelming task.

Well, I did go, thanks to some incredible acts of kindness. I rode up with Lil' Sis and her hubby. They delayed our exit so that I could have a bit more time to get things in order. Cindy, my amazing friend and running buddy, did my shopping for me and took YaYa with her so that I could complete the final 4 miles of my 20 mile run.

It was a great event. I should have been dead tired (after waking up early to run 20 miles) but instead, I was energized by some fun and games and loads of yummy food. The only time that tears filled my eyes was when I was presented with this lovely angel which the boys and I can light in remembrance of our love.

Continue reading "Día de los Muertos" »

Posted by Juls at 8:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

While getting totally emerged in my Harry Potter book, I heard a singsong query coming from my kitchen.
"Ho-ney? Will you open the bottle of wine?"

DD returned from the garage with the bocce ball set. Readied for an exciting game with his little brothers, he stopped in the kitchen to tend to his lovely gal's request. At the same time, I stopped my reading just to listen to their sweet conversation and remember the early days of Tom and I...

Those were the days. Tom and I spent so much time together. We hung out in coffee shops, and in parks, and slowly peeled away the layers of camouflage hiding our true selves to each other. Even after exposing my weaknesses, Tom accepted me.

We seemed to compliment each other. While I was naively positive (unseeing of the tragedies happening all around us), Tom was dismally negative (unable to see the rainbow on a rainy day). I felt whole when I was with him, which was new for me. I loved it; I loved him.

Continue reading "Eavesdropping" »

Posted by Juls at 7:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I hate when I try to do something nice and it just blows up my face. I hate it...HATE it. I am angry again, sad, lonely, and frustrated. And my head is about to explode.

I know this feeling will soon pass, but I have my moments. I was just in my car and thought that if I'd just get in a really bad accident, it would all be over. There would be no more pain...for me anyway.

Then, I think of my boys.

Posted by Juls at 7:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)

Six weeks ago the family started attending weekly bereavement support groups. Since today’s session will be the final in the 6-week series, our group was asked to think about our grieving and how the sessions have impacted the process.

I looked back through my blog to get a sense of how far I have come. Even after looking, it is difficult to see any real changes. Sometimes others can see your progress better than you can.

Take my son for example:
In thinking about the assignment, I asked YaYa for his thoughts on attending group. His face changed to one of torment. He told me that he didn’t like it much. He said that he didn’t like talking about his Dad, and that it was easier when he just didn’t remember it. I reminded him that he *did* remember it; he had nightmares all of the time, and he was always on the verge of tears with his brother and I. He did not agree with my view.

I asked YaYa why he chose to write the story of how his Dad died if he did not want to remember. He couldn’t tell me. Instead he asked if he could put the story on his blog. So we did that last night. Thanks to those of you who have left encouraging comments for YaYa. He needs the feedback as much as I do.

As for me, I am aware of subtle changes. I can see that my clock displays the date of 17 October 2007, yet I am not feeling the impending doom of the coming of the 21st (the monthly anniversary date) as I previously did.

My sense is that I have reached the beginning of “acceptance” or, more aptly put, the awareness that Tom is not ever coming back. I don’t like it, but it is a fact. I have accepted that much.

Continue reading "The subtleties of grief" »

Posted by Juls at 2:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

I am happy to be back to my Monday though Friday routine. The weekend overwhelmed me, and I am happy to leave it behind. I was greeted by the always friendly receptionist this morning with cheery greeting and a “How was your weekend?” My reply was partially honest. “It was okay.” True to form, she fished for a little more, but I didn’t elaborate much more than that. She added that she was always happy that she didn’t have to work and that it enabled her to get just a little more sleep. I tried to fake a smile and agreed with her.

I *was* able to remain in bed a bit longer this past weekend, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. I meant to get up, but could not convince myself that wanted that. It left me scrambling to get the kids to their events, and for me to get my runs in.

On Saturday I managed to finally deposit checks deposited into the kids’ accounts finally. We have only had the checks since August but, like so many other things, they got lost in the shuffle. We got the costumes for Halloween too. BoBo pushed the urgency and I obliged. In the process, I let my toasted bagel filled with cream cheese go cold and then couldn’t stomach it. In turn, I was cranky and could not determine why. I nagged the kids and couldn’t stop myself. In the afternoon, I worked the snack shack at the Homecoming Game. 4 ½ hours of preparing nachos requires a lot of endurance and I did not have the energy as the afternoon came too quickly and I still had not eaten. The day ended with dinner with my Mom and then picking up BoBo and company at the school dance. It was past midnight when my head finally hit the pillow.

The scrambling continued on Sunday morning. I took the morning slow again and lost track of time reading blogs. I noticed the time with 30 minutes left before YaYa was due at flag football. We quickly dressed, drank a glass of milk and grabbed food for the road. It wasn’t enough to fill me up and I hoped that YaYa would be okay.

At his practice, I sat amongst the families feeling the walls of loneliness closing in on me. I tried to escape from it by calling family and friends but nobody seemed to be home or have their cell phones turned on. I watched YaYa run the plays, fumble the passes, and observing the father and son interactions taking place around him. Afterwards, he complained that none of the passes during the game were thrown to him. He said that his job was to stay out of the way. He’s a very smart kid; I had thought the same thing was happening. I reminded him that the ball is always being thrown high and since he is the youngest on the team that it would be hard to catch. I added that when the boys got better at throwing, and he got better at catching, that things might feel better on the field.

When I told YaYa that he would have to ride his bike with me while I did my 10 mile run, he complained with a vengeance. After sitting in the heat for 2 hours, this didn’t sit well with me. He *would* go with me regardless of whether he liked it. I pulled some seats from the van, loaded YaYa’s bike and then we piled in to take BoBo to part 2 of his job interview (observing at the Kids’ Gym that he was applying at). YaYa and I ate some sandwiches at Togos and then drove to the trail.

We returned home to find BoBo crashed out on the couch. The football game was on the TV. YaYa ran off to the neighbor’s house and returned a few minutes later with his friends. BoBo woke up and soon they were all in the front yard playing a game of football. At first everyone was having fun. Before long, however, YaYa was voicing his objections to BoBo’s rough tactics. At the same time, I was trying to talk on the phone to a good friend. I was distracted from the contact that all day I had longed for. I came in the house to find YaYa and BoBo in the bathroom where YaYa was getting verbally abused by BoBo. I stormed in and lost it on BoBo.

While YaYa and the gang ran off, the tension between BoBo and I built until finally BoBo had climbed out his window and ran off down the street.

Continue reading "Grief Happens" »

Posted by Juls at 7:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

It's Wednesday (aka "hump day"). I guess it is fitting that my support group occurs on this weekday as it serves to get me over another hump. This week was pretty benign, meaning there were no tears, no big out pouring of feelings, just a discussion on how the week went after last week's intense session.

In the kids’ room, the energy work shifted from the feelings of grief to accepting the loss. "Acceptance" apparently is a noisy process. The sounds from the children boomed through the walls. A bit later, they could be seen through the window dressed in their armors of aluminum foil. I could see, and hear, YaYa from where I sat. On the front of him was a sign with a few words on it: friends, brothers, smile, stupidity. I wondered what it all had to do with acceptance.

We returned to our own session for an exercise on breathing. Afterwards, the facilitator asked us how it was for us. The she asked us, "If you could tell your husband one thing, what would it be?" The fact that I love him is obvious and I am certain that he knew it. I said that I would tell him, assuming that he might be looking down at me, that although it seems like I am doing okay, that I am still missing him a lot.

I also said that I still cry on the way to work, but that I noticed that it was different. She asked me to elaborate. I really couldn't put words to it. I told her that months ago it felt like I was falling apart and that I had no control. Now, when I cry, I know that by the time I get to work it will be over. I will wipe away the tears and go about my day. Could this be the start of acceptance? I'd like to think so. It could also be the calm before the storm. The holidays *are* coming.

On the drive home, I asked YaYa about his grief-work. He couldn't remember what the costume resembled, but he said that the words were things that keep him safe. I had to wonder why "Mom" wasn't listed, but "stupidity" was. Could it be that the words were synonymous in his world?

That was what I wondered as I sprinkled nutmeg on the turkey burgers instead of seasoning salt. BoBo said that they were delicious. They actually were quite good. I was proud that I'd finally gotten it together enough to have a decent meal. Tonight, for a change, we weren't having soup, sandwiches, corndogs, or fast food.

One step at a time. Eventually, we will get over that hump.

Posted by Juls at 6:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

In January, Coach Jeff and I discussed my target marathon options for my next Boston qualification (BQ) attempt. We discussed having a prolonged training period to allow for a strong base to be created and to allow plenty of time for my foot to get used to running again post-injury. A fall marathon would do this, he said.

As Coach went through a list of fall marathons, one stood out from the rest. The LaSalle Banks Chicago Marathon was known for it's spectacular spectators, a "big" race environment, and a "flat and fast" course. On top of all of this, Tom's extended family lives in Illinois so it would be a great excuse to see the part of the family that we rarely see. I didn't waste any time in securing my spot.

Ten months later, here I sit on the flight to Chicago. I am without my husband, Tom, yet I am not alone. As BoBo and YaYa dominate the arm rests on either side of me, and encroach on my leg room, I am comforted (although UNcomfortable). Every time I see them, I see the lovely blend of Tom and I. It is a beautiful combination. Although our marriage was often challenged, I am still able to embrace a part of what was indeed good - my three handsome sons.

I would love nothing more than to cross that finishline on time to qualify for Boston. I really want my boys to see my hard work and determination, against all odds, pay off. I want the boys to know that chasing dreams of importance, such as a college education and a career that brings fulfillment as well as money, is worth the hard work that it requires.

We, as a family and as individuals, have much more grieving ahead of us, but we have a lot of wonderful memories. We also have many opportunities to create many more happy moments in the future.

May the Chicago Marathon be the first of many happy memories.

Posted by Juls at 10:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

I was at my bereavement group where the topic was revolving around getting the kids to help out around the house. Rewards vs. punishments were being discussed. I was feeling disinterested in the topic. I wasn't sure what I was there for, but I knew it wasn't that. Just when I was feeling as if I was the odd man out, everything shifted.

It was an innocent question, "Tell me about your week." I squirmed in my seat. It's not been a good week for me. When I opened my mouth, out came the feelings. I didn't think that anyone would identify with my issues; none of the women there have teenagers. But my outpouring started an avalanche amongst the group. Tender subjects were broached, and the Kleenex box was circling the room again.

I am amazed at how courageous these women are. It's funny what you see in others that you have a hard time seeing in yourself.

Continue reading "Courage" »

Posted by Juls at 8:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

I was a little excited when I saw the pastels and paper sitting on the table. It seems like the kids get all of the art therapy and the grown ups just talk. But today was different.

We did the usual talking. We shared more heart wrenching details of the deaths of our loved ones. It's horrifying to hear the cruel destruction of normal lives. But it is what it is, and nothing more.

I wasn't ready to express my feelings on paper by the time the pastels and paper were in front of me. I searched for an image and saw only a small swirl of anger down deep within my heart. I've always known it is there, right where I keep it buried, but I generally try to ignore it. To draw it was like picking at a scab to watch the wound bleed.

The group finished drawing our emotions. Then we discussed the self-portraits and how we felt during the process. The kleenex box began changing hands as we shared. I was tear free when I described my drawing but shortly after I mentioned that I'd felt distant and removed from the emotions that I had drawn, that feeling changed. What was previously down deep was rising to the surface in the form of pain.

The group ended and we were let out into the world to fend for ourselves and our children for another week.

Posted by Juls at 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

My emotional volcano is about to erupt. I can feel the pressure building. Bits of lava stream down the sides (of my cheeks) from time to time. I am trying to hold off the explosion but, as the 21st nears, I can feel the inevitable.

Wednesday's support group session was good. I started out saying that my main agenda item was to ensure that the kids' issues were taken care of. As the session continued, I think that it was evident that I had much of my own baggage to deal with.

Six months has passed and still there is so much sadness and guilt remaining within me. There is anger too. It's the anger that I am most afraid of. But it seeps out no matter how much I try to hold it back.

Continue reading "Impending eruption" »

Posted by Juls at 6:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)

I was catching my breath between intervals when a ghost from my past drove up on his bicycle. The last time we’d encountered each other on the trail I hadn’t recognized him – even after he told me his name. I remain embarrassed, after all of these years past, that I did not know the boy that I spent most of my high school years dating.

I was stretching after completing the first of three 2-mile intervals. I did a self-check to assess if it was safe to venture further from my van, as I’ve been feeling under the weather since yesterday. I confirmed that I was not feeling dizzy, and the tightness in my throat had eased up. I felt a bit vulnerable having forgotten to grab my cell phone but, seriously, who would I call if I got into trouble. It’s not like my husband could leave heaven to rescue me.

The fact was, I was feeling okay at the moment. I was, in fact, elated at my having nailed the interval pace perfectly. I was tired, but encouraged as well. It wasn’t that long ago when I felt that I’d never be able to hit the paces that Coach was asking of me.

In a matter of minutes, my old friend and I caught up on our lives (children, employment status, and my grieving). When he told me that I appeared to being doing okay, I mentioned that my running kept me sane. His commenting that my running had always fulfilled that need was a big “hello” for me ~ he’d managed to recognize me even though I had failed to know him.

Before long, we were both back on the trail. He rode on ahead, and I did my best to keep my required pace even after cooling down.

It was up to me to gauge my progress as Garminia has a habit of missing the mark on her mile measurements, thus pace, on the trail that I was at. I did my best to push hard enough to hit the target pace but not so hard that I would die off before the 2 miles was traveled.

I was pleased with the outcome. Not only did I hit the pace on the second 2-mile interval, but I surpassed it on the final one. Then I drove home, showered, logged my workout, and returned to bed. I was not feeling so good anymore.

Continue reading "Over the hump" »

Posted by Juls at 6:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

The workshop titled "Empowering Yourself to Create New Possibilities" was a little strange. I little too touchy-feely for me. The most difficult part about it, though, was the constant references to "morning the loss" - of OUR JOBS. I did get something out of it though...

The gun has sounded and we are all off and running. We are, in a sense, moving in the same direction yet we all have different goals.

There are some that will run with only the goal to finish the race. They take their time and take in every aspect of the journey. Their journey is no more, or less, than that of the others who run the course.

Others have a different goal in mind. They do not slow to take in the crowd, let alone to refuel. They are literally on the run at all times. They reach down deep to find the power that will fuel them along the way.

No matter what approach is taken, it is the people that make the journey meaningful. Those who run beside you, whom you pass, or who pass you along the way add to the experience. We pull each other along with acknowledgement of the struggle to get to our destination.

Of course it wouldn't be the same without those who stand on the sidelines for hours on end. The signs that say "Go Mom," whether intended for you or not, speak volumes of encouragement. The kids, who stretch out their hand, give you encouragement and five more reasons to continue forward on your journey.

Do not give up. The race is worth running, and the finish line is so rewarding. All the aches and pains along the way are the evidence of your character, and when you choose to take your next step you will be empowered to create whatever you desire.

Posted by Juls at 11:18 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

It's Saturday, aka "rest day." For me, it means a day when I don't have to get out of bed. So it took me quite a while to do just that. I went about my blah day, feeling blah and resisting doing anything productive.

While I accomplish nothing useful, I demand that my children pick up their shoes and the clothes that they have peeled off downstairs. That is the thing with boys on hot days, they undress anywhere and leave their clothing everywhere.

I insist that they pick up their clothes "NOW" and take them up to their rooms. Then I take my coffee into my room where piles of my clean clothes sit on the chair and in the laundry basket awaiting my attention. I hear my voice saying "NOW," to which I respond, "What-EVER."

I have a packet of papers that need completing, well, NOW. My resume needs further tweaks, and I need to get my the boys dirty clothes washed, folded, and up to their rooms. But I just don't feel like it.

Continue reading "Holding on" »

Posted by Juls at 5:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Mr. Heartache paid me another visit. His visit was early this month. Rather than the routine 21st of each month, this visit took me by surprise. I didn't need to see him, to know that he'd arrived.

I remained in my bed far longer than needed on Saturday morning. I kept my eyes closed trying to block out the day. My worries had worked their way into my dreams, and my dreams remained in my mind as the sun lit up the sky.

Unlike other Saturdays, this week it was easy to stay in bed. A Friday night football game kept the whole family out late. Since I needed to pick BoBo up, then YaYa had to go too. Nobody got to bed until well after 10:30 pm, so the family slept in.

We awoke with barely enought time to buy a present for the birthday boy down the street. I wrapped the present and sent the boys down the street without me. Then I sat in my lovely home, looked around it, and felt the emptiness take over.

Thirty minutes later, I picked my heart up off of the floor, washed the tears off of my face, and joined the boys at the neighbor's house where the party was going full force. I left Mr. Heartache there and secretly hoped that he would be gone when I returned.

Well those neighbors of ours can really throw a party. We were out partying until about 10 pm. I was able to push off my sadness and mingle with the crowd for a bit. When I came home, however, Mr. Heartache was still waiting.

Now Sunday morning is aready here and Mr. Heartache doesn't seem to want to leave. I told him that I had to go running but he didn't seem to care. He held me hostage as the cooler hours slipped away. I really don't like to run in the heat of day, but he was leaving me no choice.

After a couple cups of coffee, I gathered enough courage to show him the door. Then I made the kids some French Toast for breakfast and left for a run.

Continue reading "Hello Mr. Heartache" »

Posted by Juls at 7:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Today was the actual birthday boy's Birthday. It's also another 21st - another month since Tom's death. I've been feeling the coming of the 21st each month. It's like a wave of awareness of what is different, and of what is missing.

Since I'd invested plenty of fund$ to make Sunday a special celebration for YaYa, I did not have plans for today. No cake, and no presents. Having spent more than my budget allows, I had nothing more to give. That was even with my Mom and Sisters bringing a dish to share at his BBQ.

DD, Tash, and BoBo did have more to give. Plenty. They spoiled him with a trip to the beach, made him a special dinner, and then showered him with gifts.

While I loved watching YaYa smile and have fun, I feel so inadequate and alone. I wish Tom were here.

Posted by Juls at 10:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

It seems like I am doing okay. I can almost convince myself that I won't need the grief support group by the time September finally gets here. But I am fooling myself. I know that I’ve just pushed aside my feelings to deal with the here and now.

The thing is that there is just so much going on. Getting laid off from work forces me to get things in order sooner. So I am working to cross things off of my list of "Things to do." Currently, that mode is working for me. It has brought on a new efficiency.

I posted the desk for sale on an online bulletin board, set things in motion for selling the motorcycle, and I donated the truck to charity. I am a little sad, but also relieved that these things are finally getting done. It feels like it is time. But I realize that I am not ready to tackle everything.

I ventured into Tom’s closet again today. I am finding that I am still attached to each of the remaining items of clothing. There was the shirt that I bought him just before things went bad, the blue sweater that made his eyes appear even more brilliant, and the jacket that the boys got him for Christmas. It’s going to be hard to part with these things. So, I’ll let it wait until later (or until never).

My running has never been just another thing to do on my list, but the efficiency mode is affecting this area too. I continue to look ahead to the weekends, and modify my running schedule to accommodate the kids' plans. It is just part of the package. With the long runs getting longer and the hard runs getting harder, I don’t want to just fit my runs in between dinner and the dishes. The timing needs to work.

Today I stayed home from work in order to watch the truck leave the house. That was the plan but by the time lunch rolled around, I realized how silly it was to have to *see* the truck off. It wasn't like it was going to give me one last good-bye.

But since it took me a while to get unstuck I was able to run in the morning. The cool morning air, and the near-empty track were a wonderful treat. Although my mind wasn’t ready to part with the truck, it was ready for a good hard run.

I was determined to hit the paces that Coach noted in the schedule. I ran hard, and whenever my mind began to wander to things that have been troubling me, I pushed off the thoughts and told myself to focus on the moment at hand. I demanded of myself to be in the here and now.

It worked. I am proud to say that my 800s were so close to the given pace that I chalked it up as success. I gave myself a pat on the back (even emailed Coach), and got ready for work.

Driving away I glanced at the little red truck in the driveway, knowing that it would be gone when I returned. In that moment, in *that* here and now, I was sad. I cried all the way to work.

Posted by Juls at 9:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

I think that I have said that I am tired of putting up a happy front. I am fine with people just saying "hi." It is when THE question "How are you?" is posed that I just don't know what to say. "I'm good?" No. Not really. How can you be good when your world is so different. My routine answer of "Okay" has grown old, so I just shrug and give them the I don't really know look.

I just don't have the words to give the short answer to the question. I have only the long, drawn out description that most people really don't want to know. It scares them. It scares me too.

Continue reading "THE question" »

Posted by Juls at 7:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I was in hostile territory early in the day. BoBo was letting me know, in no uncertain circumstances, that he was NOT happy about having to attend the Bereavement Camp.

I kept thinking about how Tom, if he were alive, would have made it clear to BoBo that he had no choice. His delivery of the message wasn't always pleasant though; there were times when the whole van was filled with unhappy people going to a "fun" family event...only it wasn't fun anymore. Then it occurred to me, if Tom was *alive* none of us would be going to today's camp.

BoBo's anger only grew as our van traveled the winding road. By the time we arrived (30 minutes early) he was so difficult to be around that YaYa and I left him in the car for a while. After a bit, he joined us in the parking lot and we walked down to the event.

The location was a lovely retreat center located in the mountains. It was so peaceful whereever you went on the property. The staff was friendly and welcoming. BoBo, YaYa and I wandered around to see frogs on lily pads, coi fish, horses, and two very cool dogs. I soon knew that it would be okay.

Continue reading "Bereavement Camp" »

Posted by Juls at 7:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

On Monday, YaYa had his counseling (intake) appointment at the local hospice. His visit allows him to attend the support groups. YaYa's appointment was different from BoBo and mine. He got to do an art project.

He was given a mask with instructions on how to paint it. Put the emotions that you show the world on the outside and those that you keep private on the inside. YaYa didn't quite understand what she was explaining. He had his own idea. He painted his Dad.

Continue reading "Masks" »

Posted by Juls at 7:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

It's late at night and I have just gotten out of bed. It's no use; I just lay there waiting for sleep to come.

There is an open bottle of red wine downstairs. I go to it, pour myself a glass, and retreat to the family room.

The family room is the room that Tom and I set up for our little retreat. Equipped with a tall bookcase of our favorite books, the stereo, and the fireplace, the family room was the perfect hangout. It was the room that housed our Christmas Tree, where we entertained guests that came to visit, and where Tom spent his last weeks. It was the room were he took his last breath.

I find a CD of Tom's to keep me company and log on to the computer that now occupies the room. In my email there sits a few more emails waiting from the grief group. My guess is that they are all from someone who also can not sleep.

As I read the messages, I quickly lose interest. They are mostly on the topic of future relationships. I feel all the more alienated from these people than before, wondering how they can consider dating again so soon. I try not to be judgemental but, the truth is, I am.

There is no use in pretending that I don't preconceived ideas about the proper amount of time for things. Some things just need the proper amount of time for healing to take place. Take childbirth for example. I believe that a woman's body needs at least a year to completely heal and restore its equilibrium. So when the mothers in BoBo's play group were pregnant before their babes could walk, I was appalled. But that's just me.

The wine is now kicking in. My head is light and drizzly. I am confident that sleep will come tonight - eventually. In the meantime, you have a post to read that has no point what so ever.

Continue reading "Pointless post" »

Posted by Juls at 11:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I discovered an email-based grief support group late last week. I signed up for a trial account to check it out. In doing so, I have experienced a new awareness of the feelings that are currently sitting below the cloud of numbness. As I had initially thought (about support groups), it is difficult to hear the recounts of other peoples' loss. It was overwhelming at first. Still, I logged in and read the emails often.

As I began to feel torn between "the blogs" and the email group, I found myself comparing the two. In my blogging, I have my virtual friends who have watched me go through the process, who have bonded with me on a virtual level, offered support to me (directly), and who have a common interest in running.

In contrast, the members of the email group have something in common with me, but they have also already bonded to each other. I have posted emails to the group with very little return. As a newbie, I have to establish myself anew; I am not sure if I have the energy for that right now. I feel more like an eavesdropper that a part of the group.

Although there is no connection I still am reading their emails as it offers me a perspective that is missing (aside from the few of you that have survived similar loss and commented to that effect) from the blog. Perhaps I will join permanently, or perhaps the live support groups that begin in September will provide the missing link.

Posted by Juls at 7:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

It's been weeks since the note arrived on Tom's truck. Apparently, someone is interested in buying it from us. I hesitated to respond - a little nervous about a disgruntled person coming back to complain should it not perform. I would make no promises, and the deal would be noted "as is," but my apprehension never resolved.

It would be a safer to just donate it, thus avoiding any direct identification to my home. Still, the months have passed since Tom's death and the truck remains parked in our driveway. It wasn't until yesterday that I revisited the notion of letting go of the truck (one way or another).

As I pondered calling the guy who had left the note, considering the documentation that I would want to protect from future issues, a red truck appeared ahead of me. It was the same color and make as Tom's.

My heart leapt. It couldn't be - I *knew* that. But still it felt as if I was following Tom home. I felt excitement and hope running through my body. We both got off the freeway at the same exit, turned in the same direction at the exit and made the same turns. The abrupt driving style was even the same as Tom's.

I sped up to get a closer look. Even after noting that the driver was shorter than Tom (and, of course, I *knew* that it couldn't be him), I continued to follow. While I should have gone straight (past the turn for our house), to pick up YaYa at daycare, I didn't. The truck turned, so I turned - now I could see that the cab of the truck was different from Tom's.

We were nearly home when the truck passed the final turn down our street. With disappointment, I headed to daycare center to pick up YaYa. I was saddened as the little red truck kept on truckin' and felt a fresh dose of loss.

Continue reading "Keep on truckin'" »

Posted by Juls at 7:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

"Grief is a personal journey, never the same for any two people, and as unique as your life and your relationships. Although lose is an inevitable part of life, how you approach this fact cam make the difference between meaningless pain and the manifestation of understanding and wisdom."
~ Sameet M. Kumar, PhD in Grieving Mindfully

YaYa stumbled, half-asleep, downstairs to find me making my morning coffee. His face showed the residual fear and sadness of another bad dream. For the remainder of the morning, YaYa was scared to be alone anywhere in the house. I stood by him as he dressed, followed him to the bathroom to pee, and sat by him as he ate. As difficult as it is to get anything accomplished, I felt bad for my little guy and continued to reassure him that I was there for him.

By the time BoBo awoke, I was leaving to take YaYa to daycare. BoBo was already grumpy and annoyed about having to attend a bereavement counseling session with me. We fought the whole morning leading up to the appointment. While I don't want to create a problem where there isn't one, I worry that he isn't grieving but, rather, holding his emotions back.

It is easy to see that YaYa clearly has a need for bereavement support as he wears his emotions on his sleeve and readily discusses them. I have scheduled a bereavement counseling for YaYa and me as a transition to the "Middles" Support Group that begins in September. He has already agreed to attend.

In contrast to YaYa, the evolution of teen-hood makes BoBo's emotions harder to discern the "normal" from troubled. I am sure that BoBo is still upset with me for making him attend counseling with me, but at least now he understands that I am acting out of love rather than that I feel he has a problem.

By the time we were heading home from the counseling session, the tension between us had dissipated. BoBo has agreed to join the family at the Children's Bereavement Camp next Sunday, but remains hesitant about the Teen Support Groups in September. I have left the decision to attend group as BoBo's choice and remain hopeful that the camp will open his eyes to the possibility.

Continue reading "Exploring the options" »

Posted by Juls at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I was doing well until I hit the freeway exit. My eyes began to well up as the familiar sadness hit yet again. I'd wear my sunglasses as long as I could. I'd do my best to hold it together and be strong. Today, the sadness was different. I pulled into the church parking lot, pulled myself together and joined the crowd.

The hearse arrived, followed by the limousine. We all cried as she, and his family, got out of the limousine. Today it wasn't about me as much as it was about her. I tried to keep that in mind as each familiar person asked me how I was doing.

We are both too young to be widows, but nobody asked for my opinion on this topic. It wasn't important I guess. As I listened to the mass, I tried to take in the words of the priest. I sifted through the various messages for some golden nugget of wisdom.

Afterwards, I sifted through the caverns of my own heart to find a little more hope and courage. I am crawling (however slowly) out from under the rubble to the life that remains. I will help pull her out too - when she is ready.

Posted by Juls at 5:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

On a clear night
the moon shines bright.
It lights the way
to the perfect place.

Wading through loss
to find hope,
as ocean waves,
soak shoes and chill toes.

Dancing with the sand,
the grey ash
catches a wave,
as the final ride begins.

A single rose,
rides along
for as long as it can.
Eventually, even it will be cut loose.

From today on,
all that remains,
are the memories.

Posted by Juls at 11:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Posted by Juls at 2:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The sun is shining, and the birds are singing. It is looking to be a beautiful day. I had this in my awareness, yet I lay in bed wondering what reason I had to get up. My bladder was full but I found that, if I lay still enough, it wasn't really a compelling reason to get out of bed.

As I lay there, I thought of the activities of the day. There is a Summer Solstice gathering of Tom and my mutual friends. I have not had much contact with them in the past few months - an occasional email from one or two of them, nothing more. I am still contemplating making the drive. Seeing as how Tom died on the first day of Spring, I should be happy to celebrate the coming of a new season. But I wonder what emptiness the new season will hold. I wonder what extent of numbness I will experience as I try to mingle at the event.

Now, before you comment, please know that I have been reading and talking about the process of grief. I am not alone in my apathy. It is normal to feel and act this way.

Is it only coincidence that the roses on my table are a near match to those on the cover of the book, A Grief Observed? I bought the book yesterday and wasn't surprised to see the familiar image. In fact, it was comforting in an odd way, as are the words C.S. Lewis uses to describe his own survival of "the mad midnight moments." The book is thin and while the writing a raw, unpolished, and even hard to follow at times, I realize that I am only observing a fraction of of it. My mind drifts off to someplace else as I am reading. I imagine that I will read it over and over.

I think about my assigned run. Coach was kind enough to replace my rest day with a three mile run. It hardly seems worth the effort of changing my clothes though. I wonder if I can do my long run instead. Tomorrow will be a busier day. Tomorrow I will see my kids once more. Even better, I will be able to have them home with me again. I've missed them tremendously.

Continue reading "more yearning" »

Posted by Juls at 9:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

At work I have been challenged to keep a lot of balls (projects) in the air simultaneously. Today, however, I have off loaded all of the balls to other team members and am waiting for them to be thrown back at me. It's a good thing for a Friday.

At 11:30 am, I checked in with everyone prior to grabbing my workout bag. I passed Mark in the hallway and apologized for having to do a solo run. Of course he didn't think a thing of it. He's a good man.

The workout was a good one for today - run at easy pace and pick up the pace for 30 seconds eight times. I started out and reflected on the day, the week, the month, the year as my body warmed up. It was time for my first pickup before long. I pushed Garminia's lap button and picked up the pace when she signaled for me to GO.

The increased running effort that this required was nice. I thought of nothing else but running during those 30 seconds. I returned to an easy pace and caught my breath. The thoughts returned to my head. I let them be there but didn't try to solve them. I looked ahead to my path and watched the seconds tic away. It was good to know that in a matter of minutes, all of my troubles would be pushed aside to allow for me to focus on running (and nothing more) - even if it was only for 30 seconds at a time.

Continue reading "pickups" »

Posted by Juls at 2:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

It's Wednesday night and I am getting along okay. I guess you could say that I am over the hump. I booked up my evenings this week so much that I have hardly been home at all. I am able to do a few things that I couldn't normally do like have dinner with friends and family.

While the meet ups have kept my occupied, the distraction hasn't worked as smoothly as I had hoped. One pitfall is that th act of booking up my free time has left me exhausted. Additionally, my painful moments have been pushed back into my morning commutes (rather than late evening). Since I hate showing up to work with red, swollen eyes, I’ve decided that I need a solution.

I’ve decided to leave tonight open for some bonding time with Lucky and the 3+ loads of clean laundry that are now badly wrinkled.

Posted by Juls at 9:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I've been dreading F day all week. It's not just because of my husband's death; it also has to do with my Step-Father's death. They were both young and it hardly seems possible.

At the same time, I was determined to make the best of it for my children's sake. I'd planned to take the boys to the movies in the afternoon. It seemed like a good way to occupy their minds. It was first things, first this morning; I had a run to complete.

The weather was glorious. It was sunny but cool when I grabbed my gear and drove to meet up with Cindy and Fred. I drove and thought to myself, so far - so good. Then, I turned on the radio to hear all of the Father's Day radio shows and commentary. *sigh*

I give up; there was no use fighting it. We'd chosen to meet up in a quaint little town nearby. The neighborhood is well to do with great shopping, restaurants and coffeehouses. All around me were families parading around their Father's on his special day.

Continue reading "F Day" »

Posted by Juls at 3:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I experienced a breakingpoint. It was yet another point of discovery for me. I discovered, as I let down my emotional guard, that I had not let myself really cry - not the hard cry that occurred after my step-dad died. In these past months was too busy making everyone else okay by being "okay".

Last night I cried. I wailed. I let the anger, frustration, and total loss take over. The snot filled my nose to the point of gagging and gasping for air. It was pathetic but needed. When YaYa began to panic at my loss of control, I started to pull back but couldn't. Through my sobbing I told him that I *needed* to cry. He seemed to understand.

In utter sadness we were again aware of how alone we are. My swollen eyes and drooping eye bags reveal the cry baby that I am.

Posted by Juls at 1:55 AM | Permalink

It is at the sporting events that I am often reminded of Tom. At Saturday's game, I barely held back the tears as BoBo's team pummeled the opposition. He loved to watch BoBo play. He also would have enjoyed joining YaYa in the suck and spit routine they call eating sunflower seeds.

A few feet behind the stands, I made a call to one of our friends. Ed was mostly Tom's friend. His friendship goes back many years prior to my knowing Tom. It's been weeks since I've heard from him. He just disappeared. That has been how it is with most of "our" friends (that were mostly his). They have been more strangers than not.

I wonder if my phone call will help bring Ed out of the pain, or if it will awaken the pain that our friend has tried to bury. Ed didn't call back. Neither did Les. I am afraid to reach out to Dan or George - afraid that they won't call back either.

Maybe they will call me. Maybe I will change my mind and call them.

Posted by Juls at 9:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Today, I found a couple of critical insurance documents, from my employer, that were received in the mail several weeks ago. Not wanting to leave them out when the cleaners came, I had tucked them away in a basket to attend to later.

Yes, I have cleaners - frivolous as it is; it is an expense that is well worth a sacrifice of equal value. I wouldn't be doing as well as I am without them. But that is not the point of this post. The point is the mail.

Each day the mail comes and I sort through a pile of envelopes that are mostly addressed to Tom. I don't let it get to me anymore; it's just part of the new routine. I've notified the project management organizations that send periodicals en mass, the credit card agencies, and the like. Still 95% of the mail is addressed to the deceased, and the remaining 5% is addressed to the kids and I. I expect that a year from now the same will be true.

In particular, I've been looking for mail from my employer. I've been curious as to why the forms that they were going to process and send still haven't showed up in my mailbox. How long could it take to "process"?

As you may have guessed, those papers that I hid away in the basket were, in fact, the missing forms that I was looking for. I found them today as I was looking for the Y-camp forms that I had completed for YaYa's summer and never turned in.

And in today's mail was something that I wasn't expecting from my employer (the "mother company"). It was a Birthday card. Well, sort of.

Continue reading "In the mail" »

Posted by Juls at 5:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

The Stages of death:
* Shock and numbness
* Yearning and searching
* Disorganization and despair
* Reorganization

As the days and now months pass, I notice subtle changes. Rather than moving through them, I find a part of me in all of the stages.

Continue reading "Self examination" »

Posted by Juls at 1:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

The belt moves along. It requires a minimal amount of my efforts to follow along. I simply lift one foot up, let it fall back down, and then lift the other. On days like today, where motivation is low, it's just the ticket. There's no need to focus on the run. The belt moves along without much on my part. It leaves my mind free to think.

Posted by Juls at 2:17 PM | Permalink

Bad news is popping up all around me. Friends and family are all experiencing little, and big, issues of their own. I want to be supportive and yet it is hard not to get depressed about it all.

I arrived to work today to some devastated news of a dear co-worker's husband. After a long fight, it has been confirmed that there is no winning of this battle against his cancer. It hit me hard - like a slap in the face.

I have prayed for them often - that this would not be the case. I know that my prayers were heard. Why wasn't my unselfish request granted? I'm sorry to be feeling so negative right now. It's just not fair.

I wish that I could help this dear friend. I wish that I could make it better, or easier, for her. But I know that I can't. We have got to find a cure for cancer...somehow. It won't be for my husband, or her's. But there are so many more out there that desperately need a miracle. They scary thing is that they might not even know it.

Posted by Juls at 1:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Everyday, on the way to work, I hear one of the local radio stations' contest on "What's the measure of a man?" It strikes me funny that this contest would be run just before Mother's Day but the newest song/album that th