May 23, 2006

    
     For the last five months, our Sunday Family Dinner has been a joke. Of the five kids that could be here, there are usually only three or four. Only every six weeks or so do all five make it, and then I wonder if it was such a good idea after all. We don’t fight—i­t h­­asn’t­ come to that…yet. But we also don’t enjoy each other, either.

     Last year Nett and Jeremy each told me (independently) that they noticed a growing distance between us and that we needed to start getting together for weekly dinners the way we did before Steve died. I had all but forgotten our tradition. After talking it over with Dave, we decided to set aside every Sunday for “Family Dinner”. Jeremy wanted Friday, but Dave’s usually too blown out from the workweek by the time he gets home on Friday that all he wants to do is rest. Sunday works better for most us.

     Amy and Jeremy usually go out with church friends on Sundays, or are too tired from their responsibilities at church to go anywhere, leaving us with the resentful feeling that we’ve been replaced by their “new family”. Instead of drawing us closer, this renewed tradition is expanding the rift, turning family dinner into an evening of bitter speculation about what could be keeping them away.

     I asked my kids to leave it alone, hoping if we just ignore it, this will soon pass. Instead, what Nick ignored was my request. He took this grievance to Jeremy. The shit hit the fan. Now the proverbial family walls are a distinctive shade of brown.

     It stinks and it hurts, but now that we can all see the mess maybe we can all start working together to clean it up.

{P.S. I just have to say here, from 2012, that I am so happy these days are far behind us and we are a real family again. We still have our problems, few families don't. But all in all, we do enjoy each others' company now. Maybe this is why it took me six months to get back to blogging. Somehow I feel disloyal to my family bringing these things up again. And the pain becomes fresh again. But this is where we were at that time. Where we are now been built on these tough times. And I believe we are stronger because of it. Like the old saying goes...What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And since we're still breathing, I guess that means we are, indeed, stronger.}

Finding My Way Back

After losing my way in the blogosphere for a while, I’ve been encouraged by my daughters to get back to it. I’m sorry this has taken so long. I do miss the process and the people I’ve met through blogging. Next time I feel lost—because I know I will, with all of the changes taking place and the new ways of connecting—I’ll reach out and ask questions! Thanks for your patience.

Still looking forward…

Deb

May 6, 2006 ~

           

 Three days ago my back seized up in a massive spasm. The pain was like an iron hand clutching my muscles, holding me in place. After calling Kaiser to make me an Urgent Care appointment Dave pulled me into a standing position and patiently supported me as I took baby steps to the car.

 By the luck of the draw I was assigned an Osteopath. As he adjusted my back, the doctor asked,

 “Have you been under any unusual stress lately?”

Dave and I chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Our family’s been going through some tough times.” I said with a little explanation.

“If you don’t figure out a way to relax this is going to happen again and again” the doctor warned me.

He gave me an injection for the pain, to be followed by a week of muscle relaxants and a strong suggestion to take the week off. Thanks to the muscle relaxants the spasm is almost gone.

This week I keep bouncing between feeling “all is well in my world” and feeling depressed, near tears, and like I’m facing the end of life as know it. If I would just stick with the things that fuel me (prayer, bible study, meditation, exercise and stay off the sugar) it will go a long way in relieving this stress but it’s so hard to get back on track and stick with it!



April 16, 2006

 I’m soooo tired and I don’t know why. I want to sleep all of the time but when my head nestles into a pillow, any pillow, sleep turns to laugh at me and flees! I’m numb. I drag myself out of bed in  the morning and my first thought is always, “Can I take a nap today?”

When I lie down to sleep my mind takes that as a cue to start a trip without my body. I don’t want to follow. My mind takes me places I don’t want to return to. It tries to hold me in that hot room in July 2003. It sits me at Steve’s bedside forcing me to look at his still, pale face. It sings Enya’s Orinoco Flow as I try to look away. Sail away, sail away. My mind tries to keep me slogging through the mire, pinning my arms to my sides, trying to convince me they will never again be lifted in joy.

I’m tired of stumbling down that dark path. I want to find the path that’s bathed in sunshine, warming my heart. But instead when I go to bed at night I lie awake in the darkness, in darkness. My days are run on auto-pilot.

And again I’m fighting a cold, making me even more exhausted.

I’m missing Steve more and more. I don’t know which comes first...missing Steve makes me feel down or feeling down makes me miss Steve more.

Oh, well. I’m going to miss him no matter what.

April 15, 2006

All day long I’d been pacing around the house trying to keep myself busy, yet unable to concentrate on anything. All I could think about was escape. I felt a strong pull to just get out of here…but to where…and from what? I feel as though I'm trapped in an alternate reality of my own life.

 Late in the afternoon I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my purse and keys and  lurched toward the van, destinations shooting through my mind…Jane’s house, the beach, Palm Springs. I didn’t know until the main road came into view that there was only one place for me to go. I drove the half mile to Nick’s.

He was surprised to find me at his door but, seeing my distress, he led me to the sofa where uncontrollable sobs wracked me. Suddenly we found our roles reversed. Nick, whom I held and comforted when he was a small child, now held me in his strong arms and let me cry my full.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”
 “Mom, you’re depressed.”
 “I’m not depressed!” I cried.

 But I know it’s true. I’ve been lying to myself as I steadily sink into this pit. I’ve believed I could reorient myself, find my own way out through prayer and meditation. But I’m only sinking further every day. I don’t know if this is grief related, or the clinical depression I’ve struggled with in the past, or if it’s a result of our family strife.

“You need to call your doctor, Mom. It’s time to get help and you know it.”
 “They’ll want to put me back on meds. I hate the way they make me feel. Like a zombie.”
 “Even feeling like a zombie for a little while would probably be better than feeling like this all the time. Right?”
 “I suppose. But, am I ever going to feel normal again?”
Nick didn’t have an answer for that.

He’s right. It doesn’t matter what’s causing the depression. I have to get help, even if it means feeling flat for a time.

Tonight I feel spent and still lost, but no longer agitated.
However I'm left wondering… when will I feel normal again?

April 13, 2006

Things are so stressful here right now I feel ready to explode! Every time someone says one of my names (Mom, Grandma, Deb…) I feel like they’re tearing a jagged bite out of my soul. I’m running out of me to give.

 It feels like our family is falling apart. There are so many negative things going on right now I don’t want to write them all down. We had such a happy family before Steve died. For more than a year after he died, we held each other up. But now we seem so fragmented, ripped apart from each other. We’re experiencing things that have never before been issues for our family…personality clashes, conflicting priorities, one daughter is lying about her whereabouts, another is under a huge amount of personal stress that she doesn’t want help for.

 And I’m so numb most of the time I don’t even know if I’m me anymore. Or if these people I share my life with are really my family.

We are rarely all here for “family dinner” but when we do all get together the tension is thick. It feels like the smiles are lightly pasted onto our faces and if these artificial smiles are pulled away we won’t be able to stay in the same room with each other without a fight.
 But it hasn’t come to that yet. We don’t actually fight or even raise our voices. We just kind of get through the evening.

Maybe I’m feeling so negative from the attacks I feel from outside myself or maybe from this constant mind-numbing fatigue. Maybe it’s from seeing this unprecedented turmoil in our family and how unreachable some of them have become inside their own grief. Nick’s seems to be literally killing him. I just need….

Merciful God, please tell me what I need. Please show me a way out of this place! Please give me back my real family.

 Please return the real me.

April 9, 2006

I am unbelievably tired! Lately I feel the need to get away from the hubbub of the family. But I can’t just walk out the door any time I want. Where would I go, anyway?


So last week I carved out a piece of our full and active home just for me. I rearranged the den that serves as my office and the kids’ playroom, and created a private space for me alone. I moved my recliner, my favorite lamp, a table with storage for books, magazines, and my Bible study material into the far corner, near the sliding glass door. During the day my corner is filled with indirect sunlight. Even though it’s the corner where Steve last laid his head I’m happy to have a private space where I can go to unwind.


 I escape to my island each morning for Bible study and again for a few minutes during the day, when I don’t usually focus on me.

I’m hoping this will bolster my flagging energy levels and alleviate my pounding stress.

.

March 25, 2006

Having Nett and Chris living here has added a new dimension to our home. They’re an essential part of the family. Nett is no longer our daughter-in-law but our daughter, and full-fledged sister to our other children. Chris is an important part of my day as I help Nett care for him. And taking him to school each morning means I have no reason to stay closed up in my home all day.

This morning I stepped into their room to wake Chris for school. He and his mom were out late last night at Family Group and after nine hours of sleep he still wasn’t ready to greet his day. As I whispered his name he slowly turned onto his back, tucking his hands under his arms, just like his dad used to. It made me catch my breath. I watched him for a minute, savoring the moment.

As a rule, I try not to actively look for similarities between Steve and his sons but sometimes they leap out at me, shining like a moving picture of young Steve for a fraction of a second, and then disappear. I’m not alone. Other family members mentioned things, too. Nicholas’s laugh. Chris’s walk. We don’t say much to the boys, don’t want them to become self-conscious and avoid certain mannerisms, or go to the other extreme and strive to emulate their dad. We want them to develop their own style and mannerisms, each becoming his own, unique person.

That said, I am grateful to have Steve’s sons here as small reminders of my son.

March 6, 2006

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.”

From 2011

I have finished the rewrite, changing the manuscript from a journal to a memoir. It was a great suggestion by my editor, Bob Yehling. I was able to add detail that wouldn't have made sense in a journal, but was needed for clarity.

Now....more editing before the professional takes it, maybe a little more detail, then we'll see where God takes it. I hope that it goes to those who can benefit from my journey but at this point I am just happy to have completed this phase of the project.

I'll get back to the story in the blog soon.
Thanks everyone for your prayers and support!

Peace be with you....
Deb

November 22, 2005

Thanksgiving is at The Haasienda again this year. I’ve been looking forward to it for months, but this year is different. I’m not anxious about getting things done. No dreams that the family is gathered at the table but I haven’t even done the shopping yet ~ a variation of my typical pre-party dream.

The day before Thanksgiving when my girls and I make the bread, fudge, and pies is two days away and I’m as relaxed as if it’s a weekday meal. I’m looking forward to the day but almost feel like I’ve forgotten how to “do” Thanksgiving.

So tonight I made a cup of Sleepy Time tea, popped in a Jesse Cook C D, and nestled into my La-Z-Boy with pen and paper. Letting the new age flamenco music and hot tea fill my senses I wrote out a game plan for the rest of this week.

Then I sat and let my mind wander.

I’ve made it through Steve’s birthday without suffering a severe depression. Thanksgiving, my favorite day of the year, is fast approaching. I let Steve peacefully meandered through my thoughts. I smiled, told him I miss him and now it’s time for bed.

I need my rest for the work ahead.

November 17, 2005

Yesterday I woke up with long hair. It nearly reached my waist but the bottom three inches were shaggy. Robyn wanted a haircut before the Homecoming dance this Saturday so I figured I’d go in with her to get my hair cut at the same time.

As she fastened the drape around my neck I asked the stylist to trim three or four inches to clean it up. “If you get it cut to here" she said sweeping the tops of my shoulders with her hands "you’ll have enough to donate to Locks of Love”.
“Go for it!” I told her.
She called to Robyn two chairs away as she braided my hair, “Do you want to cut your mom’s braid off?”

“Sure! It’ll be like payback for all the haircuts she gave ME!”

I cringed as I felt Robyn’s firm tug and heard the crunching of the scissors divide me from almost twelve inches of my hair. But once it was done I felt light! Enough hair covered my neck to keep me warm in the coming winter. And I knew I had made a minor contribution to a young girl at a time in her life when the love of strangers might make a difference.

As the stylist worked she asked, “Is Robyn your only child?”
“No. We have four surviving children. Our oldest died almost two and a half years ago at 31 of diabetes.”

I answered her questions about our loss. We talked about how difficult this time has been, and my struggle to move forward.

After snipping the last fly away strands from my hair she retrieved my braid from the small counter in front of me. Holding it up she said, “Look! We cut off all the sad hair. All you have left now is happy hair!”

Does hair hold memory? Hmmm.... I ran my fingers through my happy hair fluffing up the short, wavy strands as a gentle spirit settle into my heart.

July 24, 2005

After only six months working in Las Vegas Annette is being transferred to San Diego. When she told me her news, she also told me she wanted to take us up on our offer to live with us. She and I have been talking about this possibility for almost a year. I can hardly believe it’s really going to happen...and so soon! She and Chris will be here in a matter of weeks.

Nett and Steve moved to Tennessee in 2001 because the San Diego housing market looked like it would never allow them to own a home here. Even in Tennessee they never realized their dream together. Within six months Steve came back for health and personal reasons. But Annette was soon able to buy a house practically next door to her mom and step dad.

Not long after Steve died, while she was still in Tennessee, Annette told me that her entire life (and Christopher’s) revolved around her job. They would get up early every weekday morning, quickly dress, and then head out the door for the nearly two hour commute to work, usually grabbing breakfast from a drive-thru on the way. Chris spent his day at nursery school near her job and often stayed until they closed at 6:00. On their long drive home they would again grab a meal at the drive-thru. Weekends were spent recovering from the work-week, doing household chores, and running errands. They had the house but not a home. Nett felt that Chris was missing out on childhood.

In January she leaped at the chance to move to Las Vegas. The time with her Dad and step mom has been wonderful for them all. Chris and Annette have more time together and Marcy has seen to it that Chris is involved in after-school activities. But the position in San Diego comes with greater opportunity for advancement. It is right for her on so many levels! What a happy co-incidence it is near us!

Steve’s childhood room has been serving as my craft room but I can hardly contain my joy as I move everything back into the cramped den closet readying the room for them. I am thrilled by thoughts of Nett and Chris here with us ~ Chris growing up in the home and community that nurtured his dad, attending the same school his dad, Aunts Amy and Marisa, Uncle Nick, and cousins Kirstie and Kyle have gone to. I’ll be taking care of him while Annette is at work, giving us a chance to really get to know each other. He’ll be able to spend time with his brother and his cousins. Nett will even be able to have a social life again, maybe even date.

As I worked I was high thinking of the whole family together again. Then a cloud of darkness rushed at me...not the whole family.
Steve’s not coming back with them.
Not the whole family the way it used to be.

Whole is different now.

I shook it off. Whole may be different now, but it is whole. I smiled, said a prayer of thanksgiving for restoration of our family, and continued cleaning the little room for Nett and Chris to share.

July 23, 2005…and I’m okay

....besides having a nasty cold.

These past few weeks I’ve thought about Steve more than usual, knowing this date was coming but not dreading it.

At 4:15 this morning we woke up to lightning and thunder ~ a masterpiece in God’s creation. Dave and I got up to watch from our living room as random strikes filled the valley with sudden white light. We counted the seconds between the light and the sometimes booming, sometimes rolling thunder. Some strikes were as little as a mile away.

When the storm was over we stayed up to get an early start on our day. We left the house at seven to join Nick and Corey at the desert. They went out last night to get in some riding during the cool night and to hang out at Steve’s spot, just the guys.

Standing on the hilltop in the warm, humid air I looked down the slope where Steve’s ashes were sprinkled two years ago to see that bits of him remain on the hillside, just as bits of him remain in our lives.
We didn’t stay long...didn’t need to. It’s comforting to go to his resting place and experience a sense of connectedness, each of us to him and to each other.

We got back home a little before noon and after a light lunch I took a much needed nap, waking at 3:20. I stayed on my bed, waiting for the 3:26 moment of my son’s death to pass.

Walking to the living room I felt so rested, so relieved (that I made it through this time unscathed? or just at peace?) Yes, at peace.
It’s 6:30 p.m. now and, except for feeling miserable from this cold, I feel great!