With nearly three years of recovery from the early grief of losing Steve, I look back to those days and weeks and see that I was consumed by thoughts of things I felt I should have done differently. I don’t know why I thought I could have been so powerful... that I could have kept him from dying if only I had ...fill in the blank.
I know I made mistakes in his health care when he was young, but nothing that would have changed the outcome. And maybe he wouldn’t have enjoyed life as much as he did.
Steve lived his life, his way.....sometimes at the expense of personal relationships. His motto was “Get in. Sit down. Shut up and hold on!” He knew he was a short-timer and wouldn’t take whining from anyone, not even from himself. He lived hard, making his own mistakes that might have robbed him of a few years, but didn’t cause his early death
I don’t know why I felt that I should have been able to prevent his death. I’m not God and God chose not to intervene. I’m okay now and I don’t beat myself up about it anymore. I know the outcome was never in my control.
I’m not even mad at God. I only spent a minute on that fruitless phase of grief. Yes, He allowed this to happen to Steve and didn’t heal him…yet.
But I believe it’s not over yet, even for Steve. When we meet again we will both be in excellent health.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
ANOTHER PASSING, 2011
On Saturday my Uncle Carl passed away. Carl was one of my favorite Uncles, right up there with Uncle Marv.
Carl was the eighth of my Grandma Toll’s eight children, and he was only a few years older than her first few grandchildren. He was 11 years older than me so Mom always had a well trusted babysitter for me and my brother Dave. Some of my early memories are inhabited by him. Two in particular stand out...
I am three, maybe four; sitting at my grandparent’s dining room table, Uncle Carl is sitting to my left and we are sharing the remains of a large box of donuts. As I began to devour my donut, Uncle Carl warned me “Be careful not to eat the middle.” Nearing the middle I took tiny bites trying to get the most out of my treat. I laid my middle on the plate. “Go ahead and eat some more. You still have donut left” he told me. I nibbled my way around the middle again, and again, each time I looked to him for approval he told me I had a little more donut left. Finally I ate everything. Uncle Carl looked at my plate, then at my empty hands. “Hey! I told you not to eat the middle and you did anyway!”
In the second memory, I’m about six and Uncle Carl is babysitting. It’s a beautiful day and we’re outside playing with the neighborhood kids. Carl is chasing us and when he catches us he turns into a tickling machine. I’m on the ground laughing till my sides ache. “Stop!” I try to demand. “Are you sure you want me to stop? You must want me to tickle you more cuz you’re still laughing! I’ll stop tickling when you stop laughing.” As hard as I tried there was no way to stifle my laughter. When he finally stopped I was still laughing. However, to this day I have a strong rule about tickling. As soon as the one being tickled says stop, you must stop.
Carl grew and married Sharon, who became one of my favorite Aunts. She was someone I could talk to and never felt judged by. She and Carl were a perfect match. They were kind and generous and fun. They raised three sons who grew to be the men their parents could be proud of.
Carl, Sharon, and Family at a family reunion in 1999
Sharon passed away a few years ago and somehow I think Carl missed her so much that life this side of Sharon just wasn’t as easy to hold on to.
Carl will be missed by all who knew him but we are richer for having experienced his life with him.
Rest in Peace Uncle Carl.
Carl was the eighth of my Grandma Toll’s eight children, and he was only a few years older than her first few grandchildren. He was 11 years older than me so Mom always had a well trusted babysitter for me and my brother Dave. Some of my early memories are inhabited by him. Two in particular stand out...
I am three, maybe four; sitting at my grandparent’s dining room table, Uncle Carl is sitting to my left and we are sharing the remains of a large box of donuts. As I began to devour my donut, Uncle Carl warned me “Be careful not to eat the middle.” Nearing the middle I took tiny bites trying to get the most out of my treat. I laid my middle on the plate. “Go ahead and eat some more. You still have donut left” he told me. I nibbled my way around the middle again, and again, each time I looked to him for approval he told me I had a little more donut left. Finally I ate everything. Uncle Carl looked at my plate, then at my empty hands. “Hey! I told you not to eat the middle and you did anyway!”
In the second memory, I’m about six and Uncle Carl is babysitting. It’s a beautiful day and we’re outside playing with the neighborhood kids. Carl is chasing us and when he catches us he turns into a tickling machine. I’m on the ground laughing till my sides ache. “Stop!” I try to demand. “Are you sure you want me to stop? You must want me to tickle you more cuz you’re still laughing! I’ll stop tickling when you stop laughing.” As hard as I tried there was no way to stifle my laughter. When he finally stopped I was still laughing. However, to this day I have a strong rule about tickling. As soon as the one being tickled says stop, you must stop.
Carl grew and married Sharon, who became one of my favorite Aunts. She was someone I could talk to and never felt judged by. She and Carl were a perfect match. They were kind and generous and fun. They raised three sons who grew to be the men their parents could be proud of.
Carl, Sharon, and Family at a family reunion in 1999
Sharon passed away a few years ago and somehow I think Carl missed her so much that life this side of Sharon just wasn’t as easy to hold on to.
Carl will be missed by all who knew him but we are richer for having experienced his life with him.
Rest in Peace Uncle Carl.
Friday, June 10, 2011
February 28, 2006
Today I ran errands while Robyn was at literature class at the home school office. My last stop was the grocery store. As I stood at the register waiting for my total I saw the first “Cadbury Eggs” of the season.
Last week Jae came home heartbroken from a shopping trip because, though she searched the store, she couldn’t find any of these special treasures. She felt as though she had missed an important connection.
So today I bought one in memory of Steve.
I felt an odd sense of continuity as I stepped into the mid winter sunshine, wearing a smile as I slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. As the engine fired up My Immortal blasted from the radio.
Every time I hear this song it makes me think of me and Steve. She wipes away his tears, she fights away his fears. This pain is just too real!
I lost it. I sat, shoulders heaving with heavy sobs as the car idled.
I guess those few minutes were all I needed because when the song was over I pulled myself together, wiped my eyes with a tissue pulled from the always present box, and I was fine again.
Jae wasn’t here when I got home so I set the Cadbury Egg on her pillow. She arrived a short time later and, after telling me about her day, went to her room. Immediately she came back to the kitchen, holding the prize in her palm, relief softening her face.
Some days the simplest token can be enough to raise spirits and give a glimmer to the future.
Last week Jae came home heartbroken from a shopping trip because, though she searched the store, she couldn’t find any of these special treasures. She felt as though she had missed an important connection.
So today I bought one in memory of Steve.
I felt an odd sense of continuity as I stepped into the mid winter sunshine, wearing a smile as I slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. As the engine fired up My Immortal blasted from the radio.
Every time I hear this song it makes me think of me and Steve. She wipes away his tears, she fights away his fears. This pain is just too real!
I lost it. I sat, shoulders heaving with heavy sobs as the car idled.
I guess those few minutes were all I needed because when the song was over I pulled myself together, wiped my eyes with a tissue pulled from the always present box, and I was fine again.
Jae wasn’t here when I got home so I set the Cadbury Egg on her pillow. She arrived a short time later and, after telling me about her day, went to her room. Immediately she came back to the kitchen, holding the prize in her palm, relief softening her face.
Some days the simplest token can be enough to raise spirits and give a glimmer to the future.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
I appreciate the comments you leave and have been trying to respond to them. But for some reason I haven't figured out yet, I am sent in an endless loop every time I press "Post Comment"! My own blog won't let me post a comment!
I'll keep working at it until I have this conqured. In the meantime, thank you for your comments. They mean so much to me!
I'll keep working at it until I have this conqured. In the meantime, thank you for your comments. They mean so much to me!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
December 21, 2005
Contemplating my life this morning I was struck by how completely Steve changed my life. Each baby we bear changes us in some way but usually we stay on the same life path, it just gets a little wider.
If I hadn’t become pregnant at seventeen I would have gone with my parents when they moved to Missouri. Instead I stayed behind in California with my new husband, Steve’s biological father. I would have wanted children no matter where I settled down. As far back as I can remember I wanted a house full of babies. But I wouldn’t have been blessed with these children that came to share, and help shape, my life.
Because of Steve I met Amy’s biological father.
If not for Steve, I would have missed the opportunity to meet Dave, with whom I happily share this life path and with whom I have become this version of me.
Of course I can’t know exactly where I would be now had I never been sidetracked at seventeen. I can’t imagine it being any better than here. I am where I am today, and to the extent that our environment helps shape us, who I am today, because of Steve.
If I hadn’t become pregnant at seventeen I would have gone with my parents when they moved to Missouri. Instead I stayed behind in California with my new husband, Steve’s biological father. I would have wanted children no matter where I settled down. As far back as I can remember I wanted a house full of babies. But I wouldn’t have been blessed with these children that came to share, and help shape, my life.
Because of Steve I met Amy’s biological father.
If not for Steve, I would have missed the opportunity to meet Dave, with whom I happily share this life path and with whom I have become this version of me.
Of course I can’t know exactly where I would be now had I never been sidetracked at seventeen. I can’t imagine it being any better than here. I am where I am today, and to the extent that our environment helps shape us, who I am today, because of Steve.
Friday, June 3, 2011
November 24, 2005
There are only a few hours left of this year’s Thanksgiving Day. Although not everyone could be here the day and our home were full with family, fun, wonderful aromas, and food!
After everyone else had gone tonight Nick and I spent almost two hours outside talking, our jackets snuggly buttoned against the autumn chill. Hundreds of stars watched over us from a perfectly clear sky as we discussed how our lives had changed in the past year and a half.
This day is so hard for Nick. On Thanksgivings past he and Steve would joke about eating pumpkin pie with one foot out the door, anxious to be on their way to the desert with Jeremy, Nett, Marisa, Amy, and the kids. Thanksgiving was a favorite day for two reasons, family and the long weekend riding at the dez.
So often Steve and Nick were like a single unit. Although they were six and a half years apart they complimented each other as well as any brothers. From the time Nick was five months old he tried to keep up with his big brother and as they grew they became best friends. They had their trials and falling outs but always recovered.
Now Steve is dead and Nick is a shell of his former self. Sometimes I think that half of Nick died with Steve. Sometimes I feel as though I’ve lost two sons. Sometimes I’m so confident in my own recovery I overlook the difficulty others, especially Nick, are having.
I need to keep him in my prayers constantly. This is affecting every corner of his life.
After everyone else had gone tonight Nick and I spent almost two hours outside talking, our jackets snuggly buttoned against the autumn chill. Hundreds of stars watched over us from a perfectly clear sky as we discussed how our lives had changed in the past year and a half.
This day is so hard for Nick. On Thanksgivings past he and Steve would joke about eating pumpkin pie with one foot out the door, anxious to be on their way to the desert with Jeremy, Nett, Marisa, Amy, and the kids. Thanksgiving was a favorite day for two reasons, family and the long weekend riding at the dez.
So often Steve and Nick were like a single unit. Although they were six and a half years apart they complimented each other as well as any brothers. From the time Nick was five months old he tried to keep up with his big brother and as they grew they became best friends. They had their trials and falling outs but always recovered.
Now Steve is dead and Nick is a shell of his former self. Sometimes I think that half of Nick died with Steve. Sometimes I feel as though I’ve lost two sons. Sometimes I’m so confident in my own recovery I overlook the difficulty others, especially Nick, are having.
I need to keep him in my prayers constantly. This is affecting every corner of his life.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
November 23, 2005
We got so much accomplished today! At any given moment there were at least five of us bumping around the kitchen. Although they won’t be here for dinner tomorrow Amy, Kirstie, Kyle, and Josh wanted to help with the baking so they came over right after breakfast. Jae and Robyn got up early to start working on the fudge and Nett took the day off work to join the fun. When they weren’t helping in the kitchen, the kids played outside in the perfect autumn weather.
We started on the pies first. Nett once commented that there seems to be at least one pie per person at our yearly feast. She might be right. This year she was in charge of the old fashioned pumpkin pies while I made a dairy and sugar free version. As those baked, Amy got to work on my mom’s special cherry pie recipe. As a young financially challenged bride, Mom couldn’t afford the four cans of pie cherries her favorite recipe called for. In desperation she went to her pantry in search of a substitute to stretch the two cans of cherries she already had. She found the perfect ingredient and passed her secret down to her children. I have passed it to mine and today, Amy passed the secret to hers. We’ve often been told, “I don’t know why but this is the best cherry pie I’ve ever tasted!”
As Amy worked at the left of the sink her daughters and I started the dinner rolls at the right. Kirstie and Kyle reveled in the gooey fun of mixing flour by hand into the warm yeasty water and then helping me knead the dough. After setting the dough to rise near the warm oven they ran outside to join Josh, Chris, and Nic in the climbing tree, making me promise to call them in when the dough was ready to punch down and be shaped into rolls. In a few hours we enjoyed a lunch of hot bread dipped in melted butter.
After lunch we headed back to the kitchen to finish the desserts. Lemons, cornstarch, Hershey’s Cocoa Powder, pecans, maple syrup, and lots of sugar were waiting on the kitchen counters to be turned into pies.
By 3:00 the pies were cooling on racks beside the fudge on the kitchen and dining room tables. But there was still much to be done to make tomorrow easier. We chopped and sautéed onions and celery for the stuffing and put them in the fridge to cool. More celery was chopped for the Waldorf salad and put in the fridge, while a bowl of apples, bananas, and chopped walnuts was set aside. Jae and Robyn took turns climbing the step stool to the upper cabinets to retrieve the seldom used bowls we would need. They then washed and dried them and put them aside to wait for the meal.
Dishes and counters cleaned, pies, fudge, and veggies awaiting tomorrow’s appetites, my daughters and I relaxed on the sofa, exhausted and satisfied after the long day.
“You know...” I interjected into the conversation “This is the first Thanksgiving since Steve died that I feel okay looking forward to the day. The last two years I kind of dreaded Thanksgiving, knowing he wouldn’t be here. This year I know I’ll miss him. I might even shed a tear. But I really am okay. And I really am thankful for all God has blessed me with.”
We started on the pies first. Nett once commented that there seems to be at least one pie per person at our yearly feast. She might be right. This year she was in charge of the old fashioned pumpkin pies while I made a dairy and sugar free version. As those baked, Amy got to work on my mom’s special cherry pie recipe. As a young financially challenged bride, Mom couldn’t afford the four cans of pie cherries her favorite recipe called for. In desperation she went to her pantry in search of a substitute to stretch the two cans of cherries she already had. She found the perfect ingredient and passed her secret down to her children. I have passed it to mine and today, Amy passed the secret to hers. We’ve often been told, “I don’t know why but this is the best cherry pie I’ve ever tasted!”
As Amy worked at the left of the sink her daughters and I started the dinner rolls at the right. Kirstie and Kyle reveled in the gooey fun of mixing flour by hand into the warm yeasty water and then helping me knead the dough. After setting the dough to rise near the warm oven they ran outside to join Josh, Chris, and Nic in the climbing tree, making me promise to call them in when the dough was ready to punch down and be shaped into rolls. In a few hours we enjoyed a lunch of hot bread dipped in melted butter.
After lunch we headed back to the kitchen to finish the desserts. Lemons, cornstarch, Hershey’s Cocoa Powder, pecans, maple syrup, and lots of sugar were waiting on the kitchen counters to be turned into pies.
By 3:00 the pies were cooling on racks beside the fudge on the kitchen and dining room tables. But there was still much to be done to make tomorrow easier. We chopped and sautéed onions and celery for the stuffing and put them in the fridge to cool. More celery was chopped for the Waldorf salad and put in the fridge, while a bowl of apples, bananas, and chopped walnuts was set aside. Jae and Robyn took turns climbing the step stool to the upper cabinets to retrieve the seldom used bowls we would need. They then washed and dried them and put them aside to wait for the meal.
Dishes and counters cleaned, pies, fudge, and veggies awaiting tomorrow’s appetites, my daughters and I relaxed on the sofa, exhausted and satisfied after the long day.
“You know...” I interjected into the conversation “This is the first Thanksgiving since Steve died that I feel okay looking forward to the day. The last two years I kind of dreaded Thanksgiving, knowing he wouldn’t be here. This year I know I’ll miss him. I might even shed a tear. But I really am okay. And I really am thankful for all God has blessed me with.”
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