My Little Life

Sitting in a quiet house, up early (because: Daylight Saving Time) and my thoughts are filled with my little brother. Most days I am doing well; I can talk about Jack with ease, laugh and smile at the memories I have of him, and talk with my kids about the lessons Jack’s life has taught us...but this morning? This morning the tears are quick to come. It started with a text from one of our Deacons at church letting me know today’s mass intention was for Jack and that he is praying for him. Then I realized it was 4 months ago today that we learned Jack had passed away...and when I think back to that day, when I allow myself to go back to that moment in time, in my parents driveway, finding out that my brother was gone forever, the grief washes over me like a fresh wave. I know that these tough days are par for the course, that for the rest of my life I will be caught up in a wave of grief now and then, but I also know that I need to choose joy. I need to choose happiness, mostly for ...

You know, after my brother-in-law, Verd, died, I kind of thought we were "done". That we had paid our dues...I mean, one tragedy per family is too much, right? This familiar path is (forgive me for being a two year old for a second), so freaking unfair. SO UNFAIR. My husband has had two brothers die. WAY before their time. Those brothers had wives and children (13 between them) and parents and brothers and sisters and in-laws and nieces and nephews and ENTIRE communities that loved them.  I just read some of my old posts from when Verd died and yes. ALL THE YES. It still rings true. From walking through the sludge of grief to the things I've learned . It is all still so true. You guys, these two men that we've "lost" (more on that word in a second) were two of the greatest. As I step back and take a look at my husband's family from afar I am amazed at what great people my in-laws made. And gosh dang if it doesn't take my breath away that I...

Last week, life fell apart on us. Again. My husband's absolutely amazing brother, Jared, passed away suddenly and unexpectedly, leaving behind a beautiful young wife and 6 kids. Jared was a life force all his own...his silly antics, giant heart, and happy-go-lucky spirit was contagious and you couldn't help but love the guy. Why is it that the good guys are taken from us too soon? This last week has been a roller coaster of emotions; from endless tears to laughter and back again. Just when I'm feeling strong, I get a hug or an offer of condolences or a sweet email and the tears start to flow all over again. Walking the path of grief is miserable...it is heart breaking and exhausting and gut wrenching...and it is unimaginable to have to walk this walk again. Just 6 years ago we were reeling from the sudden death of my husband's oldest brother. This feels far to familiar to have to deal with again. Remember when I started my resolutions posts an...

It's a person. A loved one. Someone who has a name, a relationship, a special place in a grieving person's heart. To call that a "loss" is so impersonal. Perhaps I'm alone in feeling this way, perhaps other bereaved people don't mind hearing "I'm sorry for your loss", but to me, when Verd passed away, it was almost insulting. He was, IS, so much more than "my loss". My brother's girlfriend's father just passed away in his sleep. My childhood best friend just lost her mother to cancer, and all over Facebook I keep seeing, "I'm sorry for your loss". Ugh. I realize people don't know what to say, that speaking about death or talking to someone who is walking the agonizing path of grief is difficult for some people, but please take this to heart: It is comforting to hear the name of the loved one you are so desperately missing. If it isn't comfortable for you to say the name of the deceased, then say...

One year ago, our world came crashing down around us with one phone call. One year ago, I experienced heartbreak and sorrow like I never have before. One year ago, I learned what it was like to support your spouse through unimaginable pain. One year ago , we had to tell our kids that their incredible uncle was now watching over them from above. One year ago, I discovered that I hated the phrase "I'm sorry for your loss.". One year ago , I realized that my emotions come in all consuming waves at times I least expect it. One year ago, I had to talk myself into believing it was true. One year ago, I "what if'ed " and "if only" and "why'd" myself crazy. One year ago, I didn't know how things would be in a year . One year later, the hole in our lives is still ever present, but there is healing . One year later, I am so happy to see how easily we talk about Verd . One year later, we are remembering...we are reminiscing...we are l...

Let's see...where did we leave off yesterday? Oh, yes. K. telling me there were some "negatives"... That's when she said, "Well, there's been a few negatives. I wanted to talk to you about that, is now an okay time?" Immediately my thoughts went to some sort of misbehavior on The Pal's part. What it turned out to be, left more of an impact than any sort of teenage shenanigans. She told me that this year's curriculum was "Theology of the Body". A very tender, personal, important curriculum. She filled me in on how she wasn't aware of this year's teachings. Of how she appeared to be left out of the "loop" of teachers. Of how they really wanted male/female pairs to teach these 10 th graders. (BTW, Verd would've been perfect for this. Absolutely perfect. Great with kids, incredibly strong in his marriage, his faith, his being .) K. told me, through tears, that she took the material home opened it up to the first less...

(FYI...this is a two part post. As the result of a Twitter poll, most people said they'd prefer two shorter posts over one long one. So two it is!) It's been just over 6 months since we lost my brother-in-law in that tragic January accident . 6 months. It feels like it was just yesterday and a lifetime ago, all at the same time. The wound that his death left on us, on our community, is so deep, that I'm certain that none of us will ever be the same. Most of that change will be for good; in the way we love, the way we live, the way we will help others and the way we will show our support for other grieving families. We have learned so much from being touched by the cruel hand of tragedy. One thing that strikes me, is how we so often live our lives so wrapped up in ourselves that rarely do we take the time to touch base with our loved ones. Prior to Verd's death, it wouldn't be unlikely for me to go a couple of weeks without seeing or talking to him. Since his accide...

On Tuesday, it's my baby brother's birthday...apparently, I forgot to mention him last year, and he's been boycotting my blog ever since (fair weather friend, he is, huh?!). I figured, to make up for it, I'd mention him twice this year . Maybe. So, after work last night, I met my mom and bros out for a celebratory drink for the "Golden Child". (BTW...he turns 24 this year. I told him that when I was 24, I was married and had my 2 nd baby on the way...what's his hold-up?! Oh, and PS...he doesn't normally look this cocky. He's actually nice and sweet and funny and I'm taking applications for a future sister-in-law, I mean for his future bride.) Got to the bar, bellied up, ordered myself a Mike's Lemonade (even tho' is wasn't a perfect 75 degree day) and proceeded to shoot the sh** with my peeps. Before too long, talk turned to memories. Memories of grandpa...the good times. Spearing suckers, McMaster's and Squirt, "How do?...

Home from the funeral. Home from grandma's home after the funeral. Exhausted. Poofy eyed. Quick to tear up. Blessed, with an amazing family. Blessed, with an amazing husband. Blessed, with 5 amazing kids. I love you guys...thanks for being you.

Today and tomorrow aren't going to be much fun. We have my grandpa's wake today and his funeral tomorrow. I am in a funk. Feeling down and out, tired, moody, emotional. Still grateful that grandpa isn't suffering, but sad all the same. And guilty. Guilty because I keep thinking "this is nothing like when we lost Verd ". Is that bad? I mean, this is my grandpa we're talking about...but he lived a good, long life. I feel like his death has resurfaced my emotions about my brother-in-law. I feel like I could sleep 27 hours a day, and it STILL wouldn't be enough. Thank goodness I have my kiddos and my husband...who provide me with sunshine and distraction! I know that "this too, shall pass"...but when?

UPDATE BELOW... I know...TWO posts from me on a Friday? Unheard of! If you've come looking for Five Question Friday , and you don't really want to listen to my pity party, just click the link and you'll be whisked away to footloose and fancy free fun! I'm writing this because, through this platform, I've discovered that writing is therapy for me. It helps me to clear my mind and get all my thoughts out and declutter my brain. So, here goes... 2011 can stop sucking at any minute. YOU HEAR THAT 2011?!!! STOP SUCKING!! With tomorrow's benefit looming, I think I'm feeling a little raw with knowing the reason why we are even attending a benefit. Knowing that, most days, Verd's death still doesn't feel real. Knowing that my husband and his siblings and parents are still struggling...knowing that tomorrow is, likely, going to be hard. 2011 has been one thing after another, and while all the "other" stuff is piddly compared to losing Verd , it...

(Disclaimer: Another *insert big sigh* grief post. Just forewarning you...) Not too very long ago, my husband would often ask me, while shaking his head and chuckling, "WHAT is your world like?!" I tended to be a happy-go-lucky, light hearted soul. Well...let me tell you what my world was like: The sky was a soft shade of pink with fluffy clouds outlined in glitter. The trees were covered in sugar-coated gumdrops that sparkled in the ever present sun. Unicorns pranced around and fairies and butterflies floated by on the breeze. Occasionally, a rain storm would roll through (approximately once a month, accompanied by bloating and pimples) and things would be a drippy mess...but, it wasn't long before that sky glittered and the trees sparkled again. Lately, my world has been very different. VERY. Lately, my world consists of dull, soggy shades of gray. My feet shuffle along, just going through the motions. Lately, my heart feels like someone's got it in a vice grip...s...

This grief stuff? It's hard. I'm a fixer...a nurturer, and when I see my loved ones hurting, I want to make it all better. So, when the Mr. was having a hard time the other night, I wanted to hug him, to let him cry, to love him. But that's not how HE grieves. When a couple is grieving, it's like you're dancing a delicate dance...wherein, at times, you will dance so close it's hard to distinguish where one person ends and another begins, and at other times, you find yourself dancing side by side. In the immediate aftermath of Verd's tragic death, each one of us was so raw with our grief, we danced that close dance. Comforting, loving, supporting. Now, as we have begun to grieve while going through the motions of daily life, I find our difficult times come separate from one another. I have come to realize that, while a big, long hug makes ME feel better...it is not what everyone wants. It's not what my husband wants. And so, I now set out to discover wh...

At the beginning of last week, the good moments, the good days, were starting to outnumber the bad ones. Smiles were becoming more frequent than tears...the hurt was still there, the memories still the first thing on my mind when I woke...but healing was happening. Then, Thursday rolled around...and I received news that a wonderful co-worker had passed away after a sudden illness. In the first hour of hearing that news, I felt numb. Still emotionally exhausted from my grief over losing Verd , I couldn't process the feelings I had about Barb's death. However, I suddenly found the tears hard to keep away, again. It was as if hearing about Barb's death had ripped the freshly formed scabs on my raw emotions right off. I went to conferences for Belle and E.W., one with a teacher whose children were in Verd's wife's daycare (and so, very close to them) and the other with a teacher who is a children's grief counselor at a summer camp. I was weepy through the first co...

Here's the thing about grief...about losing a loved one...you soon discover that you are part of a very unfortunate club. A club that includes too many people that have had to endure the pain of losing someone close to them. People you see everyday, people you know well, will begin to tell you about their experiences with death. I am amazed by the amount of people who have lost someone close to them. Who have struggled with these very feelings that I have. Who have survived the pain and learned how to live their "new reality". Hearing these stories, seeing people who have lived this anguish, makes me feel a little bit normal. A little bit normal, when sometimes I feel like I am going crazy. Literally. After spending the week of Verd's death in a state of mind that left me truly feeling like I was just having a horrific dream, this week I found myself, at times, feeling like it never really happened. Like he wasn't really dead, just away. I wonder if this is part ...