October 6, 2004

I woke up blue this morning. Steve’s absence has cast a pall over the joy I bathed in just yesterday. My limbs were heavy as I showered and dressed for my trip to San Diego to visit Marisa and Ethan at the hospital. During the thirty minute drive, alone in my car, I started to cry. The closer I got to the hospital the harder tears came. I’ve gotten pretty good at functioning while I have a good cry. I can sob, eyes wide open, mind alert to the cars around me on the freeway.

Once I found a parking spot on the quiet road behind the hospital I sat in my car and just let loose. I wanted to go in to see them, to cuddle my new grandson but I was overwhelmed with the sadness of this powerful first. The first baby born to the family since Steve’s death. Nick’s baby. Sitting in my car, tears running unchecked down my cheeks, I imagined how different this day would be with Steve here. Even the little boy’s name would be different. Steve’s first son is Nicholas, after his brother. For years Nick and Marisa planned to name their first son after Steve. But right now the family is still too raw to introduce another Steve into our midst. And such shoes to fill! How could Nick do that to his son? The time isn’t right...yet.

How Steve would have reveled in this event, sharing the experience of fatherhood with his brother! He was such a doting uncle to Kirstie, Kyle, and Josh. I know he also would have automatically loved Ethan, the baby of his lifelong best friend, his brother. And how Steve would have razzed Nick!

But I knew I was wasting precious time sitting in my car creating artificial memories. It was time to go in and enjoy my family. I sucked in a deep, ragged breath, mopped my face, and blew my nose. I started the long walk to their room, one foot in front of the other, getting a little easier, a little quicker, with every step.

When I arrived Marisa kissed Ethan’s forehead before passing her snuggly wrapped bundle to me. I pulled him close, involuntarily anointing him with fresh tears. We settled into the chair near the window, sunlight bathing this new little piece of our future.
My finger traced Ethan’s ear, jaw line, and nose as I examined the small details of my newest grandchild. Crooning to him and visiting with his mom my sadness was crowded out by new joy.
Two hours later I walked through my front door, memories of my own children bouncing around in every room. And I was smiling.

Yes.

A new baby.

A new beginning.

October 5, 2004

He’s here! Nick and Marisa’s baby boy, Ethan Nicholas Haas is here. October 5, 2004, 4:23 PM, 9lb, 3oz. Healthy! Beautiful! A perfect little baby face! Marisa did great! Nick still seems to be in awe! He was with her the entire time. They didn’t want anyone else in with them for the birth so Lydia and I waited in the full to overflowing waiting room with rest of the family.

At about 4:20 I grabbed my fellow “Grandma-in-Waiting” by the hand and we took a walk around the hallway toward Marisa’s room. Standing outside her closed door we could hear the lusty wail of a newborn, our mutual grandson. Lydia and I bear hugged each other before heading back to the waiting room to share the news. Nick met us there minutes later, red-eyed and still teary, and led the family to the room where we were given a proper introduction to Mister Ethan. The throng that had been filling the waiting room now filled the birthing room.

What a wonderful way to welcome the newest member of the family!

A new baby. A new beginning.

From 2011

I recently read in a book by Bob Yehling ~ solitude is the necessary companion for writing. I’m sure I’ve read that before but.... I had no idea! I have been trying for the past four and a half months to keep up on my blog and work on my manuscript while hosting a family of four in our home. I started thinking I just wasn’t meant to be a writer because I couldn’t concentrate on my words through the frequent interruptions ~ kids squabbling and running through the house, adults carrying on conversations in the next room, someone hovering at my doorway “waiting till you have a minute so I can talk to you”. OY!

So I pretty much gave up on consistency until they found another place to stay.

That time has come!

My deadline for finishing the current draft of Losing Steve: One Mother’s Journey through Grief has passed.....and I am neither finished nor dead! So now I am working on both projects (Blog and manuscript) full time as my poor, uncomplaining, and uber supportive husband wastes away from neglect. Thank goodness he has his “Mafia Wars” to keep him company!
That said, it’s been two weeks since our house guests left and I am finally finding my groove again. I didn’t realize it would take time to adjust back to my normal life! It feels good to enjoy my quiet house during the day as I work on projects, get our space back in order, and then to welcome my husband home in the evenings without others vying for his attention.

So it’s back to work for me. The Writers’ Conference is coming up in three and a half weeks. I’m hoping to be finished with this draft by then.....

Peace be with you,
Deb

September 30, 2004

I have felt so much more “together” lately. The pain, grief, and guilt seem be evaporating, leaving just a mist. The fog is leaving my brain. I feel happy again. Now my core is happy with the shadow of sadness, not the other way around. I don’t feel the presence of my other self as heavily as I did before. I feel liberated. Thank you Lord for guiding me to Toby! She has helped me find my way out of my prison of grief and guilt.

I was thinking back on leaving Steve when we went on vacation the June before he died and feeling bad about it, even though when I told him I decided to stay home, he insisted we all go as planned. The whole time we were gone I imagined how much better he would be by the time we returned. None of us had any understanding of how little time we had left together.

But if we hadn’t gone Amy wouldn’t have had the opportunity to help him as she did. She came over every day to help him with his daily needs, and in the evening to help him get ready for bed and get him into bed. They spent time together, they talked, and she cared for him. She also took him to several doctors’ and physical therapy appointments gaining a greater understanding of what he was going through.

Though I do have misgivings about not having that time with him I am happy that Amy was able to bank even more memories of her brother, and that Steve had that special time with Amy.

And I know that we’ll be together later.