“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
Oh how incredibly lucky I am!
I love you Paul and I’ll miss you when you’re in Japan.
Hurry home.
I made a braided sandwich for the kids after school on Friday and only used half
There was a definite end to my grieving. Although I didn’t recognize it until a few weeks later, I know the moment it happened. Afterward, I accepted my loss and was able to move forward. I wasn’t in survival mode anymore. I felt motherhood calling me back to Robin and Paul. When I played with them, I wasn’t just going through the motions. I put thought into our meals. I cleaned the house. I got Robin ready for kindergarten and took Pauly for walks around the neighborhood.
A high school friend Angie Giles sent me this article a few months ago. She and I have discussed loss, grief and closure on and off over the past year or so. I have been thinking about closure ever since she sent the article.
I don’t know that I have ever believed in closure, the way it is usually used. Yes, I moved on. Yes, the pain grew to be less and less in the everyday. But closure? On what? It sounds so final.
Joshua would be 17 today. He would be a senior and would have been driving for a year now. That means I wouldn’t be driving to seminary every morning. I wonder what scars he would have added to our van. He and Dan would be sharing a high school and a room. He would probably have asked for some video game or a cool phone for his birthday. Would he have a job? I wonder what he would request for dinner tonight.
It has also been 15 years (last week) since my dad died. Because he was apart of my life so much longer, I am reminded of him even more often than I am reminded of Joshua. A certain color yellow, the sound of a VW engine, books that I saw on his night stand, a bald head, a round belly, when my brothers lick their bottom lip, when I close my right eye in the sun, when I teach my children to dive like he taught me. “Now lean over and let your body drop in. Your hands touch the water first, then the top of your head, then everything else.” I miss my dad.
Where I wonder about Joshua’s life and sort of stick him in where I think he might fit, I really don’t know. On the other hand, I recognize what my dad is missing and what he would love.
I wish he could see his sons and the courageous, smart and interesting choices they’ve made. He would be so proud of each of them. Seeing them do the things that they love while providing for their families, that would have brought him great joy.
I wish he could see what Gabby and Jordan have done with their blogs. He would be over the moon seeing what they’ve been able to accomplish and you can bet he would have spent some time in France over the past year. I wish he was going to ALT next week; Sara always threw Dad for a loop and I think Alt would blow his mind.
Oh! How I wish I could have sent him Robin’s article on Monday; I wish he could know all his grand children. I wish he could Skype with them. Man! Wouldn’t he have loved that! “Grampa, go put on shirt.”
I wish he could use an iPhone among a zillion other things.
So closure, what does it mean? Is it real or does it just need a new definition? Does it mean we stop loving those we’ve lost? Or is it just the end of our grieving and the acceptance of our loss? Does it mean that we don’t think of them often? Or does it just mean that we get to a point where we can move on, continue to grow and learn without those people in our lives?
My opinion is that we need a different word. Although I was able to close the door on my grieving and go back to my life, my grief has never completely left me. I still have moments of deep sorrow but I’m not driven to distraction, unable to think about anything else like in those first terrible months. I certainly never closed the door on my feelings for those I love and when we see each other again, I’m sure we will continue pretty much where we left off.
Now who’s going to break it to dad that he missed out Craig’s List?
A high school friend Angie Giles sent me this article a few months ago. She and I have discussed loss, grief and closure on and off over the past year or so. I have been thinking about it ever since she sent the article.
A couple of the things I wanted to do at the new year were to blog more consistently and also make some changes and to move to WordPress. I thought it would be much simpler and quicker than it has been. I am slogging through though and will be up and running soon I hope.
Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!
2011
Whew! And that just gets us to June! The rest of the year was spent swimming, enjoying this great house, getting the kids settled in school and extra-curriculars, Paul attending MP school at Ft. Leonard Wood, getting myself settled, trying a few scary things and ending with a welcome break for Christmas and the New Year.
2011 was a long, emotional year.
It was hard to be separated, from Paul, for months but I am proud of what I was able to accomplish on my own. Selling the house by myself was especially difficult but I did it and I look back on that with satisfaction.
It was hard to send our Pauly off on his mission. Paul dropped him off at the airport in Phoenix and then called me. I stood outside of Rose Path, Paul sat in the truck and we grieved together over the phone. There were good things too though, I love that I got those first few months of the year with him. I couldn’t have done all the work to get the house ready to sell, without him. And I wish you could have heard him on the phone at Christmas. He sounded so happy. When I know my child is happy and growing, almost anything is acceptable.
It was hard for me to leave my friends at Rose Path. Rose Path is just candy for the eye with color everywhere you look and always bustling with creativity. The place fed my soul in a way nothing else ever has. More importantly however, I found so many kindred spirits and found a home there, after a period of profound loneliness; I still can’t really discuss it without tears. I miss it all, every single day.
Did I mention it was a long emotional year?
But enough of that! 2012 is here and I am really happy about that. The way I spent my time and energy in 2011 was determined, much of the time, by outside circumstances. This year, however, is wide open and I am excited to direct my own time.
2012
The only two major things we have planned are:
The rest of the year I am dedicating to learning and creativity and family time with:
I am excited to see what challenges and goodness this year will bring.
Things I’ wish I had understood starting out.