Go!

It was a day. I worked and went to class today and it felt very weird. I got stuff done, but I'm not sure how, and I don't really remember much about my classes. And a song on the radio made me tear up on the way home and I just feel weird. In part normal and in part very distracted and in part sad. A friend described it tonight as "an out of body experience" and that pretty much nails it.

I just miss him, you know? I mean not just as a husband or as a love even but just on the basest of levels, as a *person.* He was a really good person. He was my best friend.

I think that often times people will place a loved one who has died on a pedestal  Glossing over their faults until they forget that the faults ever existed at all... or they get painted as virtues. Aka, instead of Nathan having a bad temper, he was "passionate."

I don't want to do that. It's important to me to remember his flaws, in part so that he doesn't become some paragon that no one can ever measure up to and in part because it makes him less human, and the man I loved was very human.

There were times when he had really crappy priorities. Sometimes he wouldn't even take a break from whatever website he was working on to spend an hour with me the entire night. He also thought that he could play his guitar and have a conversation with me about something and actually hear what I was saying, which wasn't even close to true. He had a terrible temper and would drive really dangerously when he was mad-- which in turn infuriated me, which he *knew* and this only made him more prone to reckless driving, rather than less. He was very stubborn and wouldn't try new foods.. or eat vegetables (though after he got sick he was better at this.) He was a flirt, oy vey, he was a flirt! I often thought he was too ready to give his opinion when it wasn't asked for and there were many times when his brazen opinion conflicted with my own and embarassed me entirely. He wasn't fair when we had arguments sometimes and he would fight to win and make assumptions about my motivations that weren't even a little bit true.

I miss all of that... and I miss the good stuff, too.

He was always willing to get up from a chair or from bed or where ever to get me something.. even if it was just a drink of water I could have gotten myself. He called me beautiful at least once a day... often way more than that and any belief that I am pretty comes directly from the fact that I really believe he somehow thought I was the most beautiful woman in the world. He would come up behind me in the kitchen just to hug me and because he "missed me." (At the time I would get annoyed cause it's hard to cook while someone is hugging you, but looking back I treasure it.) He made me laugh all the time, I loved how much he could make me laugh-- And he didn't even think he was funny. He never made me change light bulbs or kill spiders or take out the trash or worry about car repair... and while that probably sounds pretty commonplace I really appreciated it. He was *really* sweet and romantic, though more given to the occasional grand gesture than a constant stream of romance. (Aka the anniversary poems blogged about here.) He was always very nice to waitstaff and as a result always got incredible service, and he wasn't afraid to be silly. I miss being silly very much.

I wear my wedding rings and Nathan's on a necklace one day out of the year-- Today. I think this is a tradition that I can keep up. Subtle but right. It's an anchor to my past and an acknowledgement, but it doesn't turn into a weight that holds me down like wearing them everyday would. It's also comforting to reach up and feel the smooth metal, warmed by my skin, when I'm missing him.

So it was a day.

Not all bad. Not all good.  Full of support on facebook and in person, for which I thank you most sincerely.

Let's make this an amazing year, guys. Let's make this the year that everything works out well.

Ready?

The Sad and the Shallow

*sigh*

Actually doing surprisingly well this week, all things considered. Spending real quality time with friends, painting my nails three times (I'd actually cut way back on that and was only painting them once a week or so but I binged this weekend.) And writing, or at least trying to write. I need to get back in the habit of going to Starbucks or Panera after work to write, I think.

Anyway, I've been good.

But facebook is really sad for me tonight. Nathan's "sister" has a friend who passed away today, and a friend from high school (really she was my sister's friend first but we had choir together and so I would say that she was my friend, too) has a baby who developed some sort of mysterious neuro-degenerative disease and they are going to be taking him off machines tomorrow.

And my heart is broken. I have so much empathy and compassion for just how hard things are for both sets of family and friends who are struggling to cope with and understand this incredible pain of loss.

Before I read any of that, though, I posted a new profile pic. Just cause I was bored of my old one and wanted a pic with my yellow shirt and my "cat eye" makeup.

And it makes me feel so sad and shallow. I mean I don't think I am actually shallow... and I know that beauty routines are a coping mechanism of mine, and I know that my nail stuff is actually very deeply related to Nathan, but I sometimes still look at it from an outsider perspective-- especially someone who's got something *real* going on, like dealing with death-come-too-soon and I just shake my head.

It's so hard. It's so hard what they are dealing with... And here I am, being excited about a color and some makeup, waiting for my nails to dry. And I feel like "that girl." The oblivious insensitive one who doesn't get it and has obviously never had any "real" life experiences.

But I'm not oblivious though I'm sure I'm insensitive at times but I do get it and I've had some doozies of experiences... and for me it's so nice to get lost in something that I know doesn't matter. That no one really cares about. I find so much freedom in frivolity. I don't know why, but shallow silliness is so soothing for me.

But then again, I might be crazy.

For instance I'm thinking about going to a documentary being shown on campus tomorrow evening about cancer patients and their caregivers and their care providers. Yeah that's right, this is something I choose to do on the eve of the second anniversary of my husband's death from cancer. Wtf, mate. And yet, I think I might, I really think I might. I *want* to see it. I'm really interested in what it has to say. I'm also just the slightest bit afraid of it.

We'll see how brave I turn out to be, I guess.

What-if

I try not to play the "what-if" game very often, but today it seems to be following me around a little bit. Walking across campus I found myself thinking about how much I love being in school... and wondering if I would be in school right now if Nathan were still here.

I'm not sure that I would be. I think I would be a mom right now, with not-enough-time for going-to-school-ness.

And then I watched the season finale of Parenthood.

And there were some scenes of the couple in which the wife has breast cancer that were super reminiscent of my life... and I remembered that relapse happens... and so it's possible that even if Nathan hadn't died we might still be dealing with the same things. I might still be dealing with the stuff that we had already been fighting for so long. Only it would have been 2 more years. I've been a widow at this point for longer than Nathan had cancer. I can't imagine how hard and scary it would be to go through everything that we did and have everyone celebrate being "done" and then for a relapse to happen.

And I can't imagine what doing it all over again would have done to me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that a lot of times I play the "what-if" game with the perfect scenario. What if Nathan had never died and everything had gone just according to plan?

But there is a flip side to that, too. What if Nathan had never died but had been constantly suffering for the last two years? That doesn't even bear pondering it hurts so badly. What if Nathan suffered for 2 years and then died this week? What if I had been laid off and then he relapsed? What if we had adopted a baby and then I lost Nathan? There are so many terrible scenarios that could have played out and didn't.

Don't get me wrong. If I could have my life back as I planned it to go, I would take it. But if life held any more pain for him... well, I guess I'm glad it wasn't my choice to make.

Two Years Ago, Today.

Two years ago I went to sleep on the night of January 20th, totally exhausted, but happy that the next day was a Friday. Fridays meant that I didn't work so I just had to take care of Nathan and we didn't have any doctor appointments so it was only the ever-present cycle of medication monitoring, diabetes regulating, heating pad/pillow adjustment and whatever else Nathan needed or would let me do to try and make him more comfortable.

He hadn't been able to sleep lying down in months, so I went to bed alone, as usual. I hadn't slept next to him for about three and a half months except once at the hospital when they moved another bed next to his and let me sleep in it. That was one of the hardest things, because we were always touching while sleeping. Sometimes it was just an arm or a leg but we were normally completely tangled up with each other. Even now I ache for the comfort, reassurance, and safety that sleeping next to my husband gave me.

I went to bed around two, I think, after either taking off or putting on his compression socks- not sure which, now, either was nearly a form of torture for both of us. Nathan slept- what little the pain would let him sleep- in the living room in his recliner. At this point I was always so exhausted and he wasn't able to yell loudly enough to wake me up if he needed something so he would call my cell phone (which I kept by my pillow at full volume) to wake me up. When my phone rang I would roll out of bed not even completely conscious-  just knowing he needed me. I controlled the pain meds at this point. Not because he might have gotten addicted-- he was hurting enough that wouldn't be possible, but because he wasn't lucid enough to remember things like how many he had taken and what time he last took them at. Even I had to write it down- there was so much to remember.

He usually needed me once or twice a night... if the pain was really bad a lot more often than that. At this point Nathan had the walker and we had a toilet riser and handles around the toilet, but he still needed my help. So there was usually a bathroom trip in the night. The bathroom was ten, maybe fifteen, feet from his chair. The trip there and back completely exhausted him and would usually take at least thirty minutes. It had taken up to an hour before. There are so many things about ambulation that we just take for granted. Nathan needed the walker even to get around our tiny apartment and he hated it so much. This was the guy who would play Ultimate Frisbee for hours without stopping. Who would chase squirrels and climb trees for no reason whatsoever.

Anyway, on this night I went to bed at 2AM, hoping that we might be able to get three or four hours in before the next pain med dosage. I was shocked when I woke up at 8AM and Nathan hadn't called me. I went into the living room and checked on him, but he was sleeping... well, it never looked comfortable, but peacefully. I was so excited. I thought maybe we were hitting an upswing. He'd done so well immediately after the bone marrow transplant. I just wanted him to get past all this terrible pain and start feeling better. I went straight back to bed, after I knew he was ok. In hindsight I know that he was sleeping so well because he could no longer feel the worst of the pain, but I didn't know that then and I was so tired and so happy.

He finally called me again at noon. Later, I would be so grateful for all the sleep I'd gotten that night, because when he called me and I stumbled into the living room he told me that he couldn't move or feel his legs. He had to explain it to me twice, because I couldn't understand it. I didn't understand how someone could become paralyzed from the waist down overnight. And then I freaked out. I totally and completely freaked, and he was there, making me come over to him so he could hug me. Telling me that it was going to be ok. Calming me down so I could call his bone marrow transplant physician at Barnes and then the ambulance to come get him, and his mom so she knew what was happening. He did that until the very end, always the one offering comfort rather than asking for it. Such an incredible man.

We spent the rest of that day in the Springfield ER, figuring out what to do and then they decided to transfer him to Barnes. Paula arrived and we ended up driving to St. Louis at around midnight, and spending most of the next day in their ER. Nathan had surgery Saturday night to try and drain the fluid around his spinal column that was pinching the nerve and not allowing him to move/feel his legs. He was sedated for the pain (and I think his O2 levels were low so they had intubated him as well?) at that point so Paula and I decided that he would want to go ahead with the surgery. It would only give him an 8% chance of being able to regain the use of his legs, and it was risky, but without the surgery he had a zero percent chance. After the surgery he would have had to wear a back brace for two months or so, I think, but we agreed that if there was any chance then Nathan would take it. He had to be able to run again, someday. He had to.

I didn't sleep until Sunday morning I think. He made it through the surgery well, but we wouldn't know if it had done anything until he woke up and probably not even then, what with the swelling brought on by the surgery. They brought him out of sedation sometime on Sunday, and his legs were the same, but we knew there might not be immediate results. Paula and I set up a rotating shift at the hospital.  I had nights and I'd come in whenever I woke up for the days, but that way Nathan was only alone during the ICU mandated "no visitor" hours and we could speak to the doctors whenever they came in. Nathan was still highly drugged for all of this, which offered much laughter, even if it was slightly desperate laughter. At one point a male nurse was in the room, talking to Nathan about his pain and Nathan said, "Hey, When do I get my slippers?" The nurse asked him what he meant and Nathan said, "They said I would get some slippers. I want my free slippers, dammit."

The guy asked Nathan where he was and Nathan said he didn't know and the nurse said, "Well, Nathan you are at Barnes-Jewish. They don't give anything away for free here."

Nathan sort of drunkenly murmured, "Yeah, that's the truth." I just laughed.

He developed pneumonia at some point- one that antibiotics and anti-virals did nothing to fight, and the pnuemonia is what actually killed him, on the morning of Jan 29th. I'm not going to blog about the very last days.  If you want to know about them, you can read this post. I just haven't really talked about this part before, and I guess I sorta wanted to explain why I might not seem much like myself this week, or why I might make decisions that run counter to my "norm."

I guess I really just wanted to feel like I wasn't the only person who had this information. Like someone else understands, even if just by proxy, a bit of what it was like-- two years ago, today.

Veteran of the Heart

Just so you know, I think this might actually be up to three different blog posts, but I can't seem to organize my thoughts into anything of a decent cohesive length.

I watched the Silver Linings Playbook yesterday because my friend (Kara T.) really wanted to see it. Plus it's generally a positive movie and, you know, nominated for like 6 or 7 Oscars.

I knew going into it that the main girl was a young widow. And so I went into it expecting to relate somehow. I fully expected to cry.

But I didn't. At all.

None of it felt real or true... I didn't buy the ending... In effect it just didn't line up for me.

And I couldn't help but wonder why.

Is it because each experience of grief is so different? Or am I abnormal? Jennifer Lawrence has a best actress nom, so I don't think it's just that she doesn't do a good job. Is it that no one in the Academy has had a "young grief" experience? That can't be it.

Or is it that I'm not really a widow, anymore.

I mean, of course, I *am* a widow-- I always will be.  I've earned the title. And I do think "earned" is the right word. Widow(er) is a signifier of experience-- gained just by making it through each day. It means something along the lines of  "veteran of the heart." But I feel like that's not the main distinguisher right now. It's kinda like getting a doctorate. There are some times when being called doctor is a big deal and you want that respect, but when you are with your family or on vacation that title isn't one that you use. Basically, "widow" is not how I define myself and I don't think it's how others define me and maybe that's an important distinction.

I was reading a book last night (Yes, I started at 2 AM.... Yes, I went to sleep at 6AM... Yes, I woke up at noon and proceeded to roll over and finish the book without even getting out of bed. Yes, I think you should consider that cute and not deranged.) But in the book the main character is speaking about his mother who passed away less than a year earlier and says of the cemetery  "I still can't think about her being there. It doesn't make sense. Why would you stick someone you love down in a lonely old hole in the dirt? Where it's cold, and dirty, and full of bugs? That can't be how it ends, after everything, after everything she was." - Beautiful Creatures

That I totally relate to. I really struggled just after Nathan died with him being "so far" away from me in Arkansas, but then Kara reminded me that he wasn't really there.

We are coming up on "hell week" for me. It starts on the 21st and culminates in the 29th. I've already caught myself getting a little manic in my quest for company. Last year we had a big to-do. I don't want that this year. I don't know exactly what I will do, but I know I it will be something smaller, quieter.... some sort of tradition I might actually be able to maintain.

I can't believe it will be two years. In some ways it feels so much longer and in other ways not nearly that long. I keep expecting my life to be vastly different, but it's not my life that really seems so changed. It's me.

Selfishness

My grandfather is back in the hospital. Spinal compression fractures. The same thing that Nathan suffered through the last 4 months- that hurt him so badly. The same thing that made it so he couldn't walk and put him in the hospital the last time.

There isn't much to say that I haven't already said here or here or on facebook, except that I hate how selfish this makes me feel.

Cause while I absolutely want Pappy's back to stop hurting...

I also want someone to take care of me. I want to not have to be strong and tough and in control. I want to have the freedom to feel a little sorry for myself and to break down. I wanna be a girl and not have a logical handle on my emotions.

Yeah, that's totally sexist. This is me not caring and longing for some antiquated gender roles.

And I know that talking about it isn't gonna change a darn thing. And I know that I have really great friends who want to be there for me... but what I feel like I need is a very specific type of comfort that just isn't available to me, right now.

And how can I be bemoaning my lack of a boyfriend/male companion when my grandfather is in agony?

I think it's because I can't think about Pappy very hard without having a breakdown that I will not let myself have without someone I trust who could just love me and hold me.

But I don't have that.

So it's string or nothing, precious.

Cookies and Compliments

I'm happy. I'm just so darn happy.

Now a smart man might observe that I've had an extrovert's dream weekend- Multiple people wanting to hang out with me every day this weekend- much laughter and fun, and it's not even over quite yet.

I just don't know how I've managed to find the very best people in all the world and convince them that they should like me and hang out with me, but it keeps happening.

I was thinking this weekend.  (Shocking, I know.) Some friends of mine and I were talking about a mutual acquaintance and commenting that she kinda always seems grumpy and in a bad mood. (Pretty sure that none of you know her, so I'm not terribly concerned about revealing her gender.) Anyway, I think I'm actually the one who said that she kinda seems to hate everything. And then a little bit later I had to add-- but she has gone through a lot of very hard terrible stuff. Then we mentioned another person who has also gone through some rather trying circumstances and turned to some unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Now I really don't believe that there is a scale of heartache. I don't think you can compare pain. Kara told me a story in college about her best friend in high school who had a brain aneurysm and then her mother passed away within the space of a year or so. (Sorry, Kara, if I don't have the details quite right.) Anyway, Kara was telling me a story about how after all this terrible stuff had happened Kara broke up with or had a fight with her boyfriend and was crying to her friend about it and expressed feeling bad because it was nothing compared to her friend's sorrows, and this friend told her (a very wise high schooler) that all pain is the same. That has really stuck with me. It has been a comfort when I had "very little" pain in my life but it still hurt like the dickens, and it's been a comfort to me since Nathan died. Pain is pain. It hurts and you just can't compare it, because in the moment it just hurts and that's all. There are specific reactions that it's harder to understand unless you've been through a similar situation, but the hurt... that's universal.

But back to what I was saying- I would not say that I've had a worse experience than these two other people. Everyone's pain is the same. The causes and our experiences are vastly different, but when it comes to dealing with pain... well, I've been in that game, at least. And I know... I *know* how easy and how tempting it is to let yourself turn to those coping mechanisms which aren't healthy but numb the pain. And I know how often I would like to just be in a bad mood because I want people to understand that I've gone through something and the world owes me more kindness. And I know how nice it would be to let those coping mechanisms and anger become walls that protect me from an existence that isn't what it should be, and I have no judgement for these people... cause I get it... oh gosh. I get it.

But I think that my life is better because I** choose joy. I think that I'm able to be so very happy-- despite everything-- because I made (and keep making) a decision to look for the beauty- to seek out the good and glorious, to make jokes and laugh and enjoy everything that I can. Now, that can make me a little saccharine at times, I know, but it's because I'm determined to notice and point out the sweet.

We know the pain, it's easy to feel the pain... sometimes people have to be reminded of the positive- especially when it happens in the middle of the pain. But it's worth it. It's so worth it, because it means that I can be happy, despite a life that is not all I want.

I just want it for other people too. I wish I could share it with them. Everyone should be able to be as happy as I am.

I wish I had a magic wand. I wish I had a way to give happiness. But all I have are cookies and compliments.

**This should probably all come with a caveat that it's also super hard, and I really, truly, and honestly believe that I could not have chosen joy if I did not have my faith. If I didn't have that baseline of hope and comfort and joy, I do not think I could be saying any of this. And that's probably why I have no judgement of how other people deal with their great hurts- because if not but for the grace of God, so go I.

How it really is

Just so we are clear, it's not all doom and gloom. I'm not all doom and gloom.

The thing is that with everything I've been through, I had to learn to feel what I was feeling... and I had to be ok with whatever it was and whenever it was. And I talk about it when I'm feeling it, because it's very likely that later I won't be feeling that way.

But if I don't express it...  Well, it builds up. Just like a poison. Just like pressure in a volcano. Until it explodes. So I vent it off and I sound ridiculous and whiney and *very* sad. Mainly because I am at that point and time. But that's not really me. My base emotion is not a negative one. My main attitude is positive, and I'm normally hopeful for the future.

Unfortunately, I blog through the bad times. Blogging is how I get it out-- because I want to get through/past those emotions, which means it sounds like I'm constantly sad and dealing with hard stuff on my blog.

Plus who wants to read about the 3 hours I spent yesterday playing a Lego Harry Potter Wii game? That's boring as all get out.

And do you really want up to the minute info on my hair- (I somehow got it to hold itself up, and now I am afraid to move my head for fear it will fall. See now, isn't that the height of interest?)

I'm reading Brené Brown's book (The Gifts of Imperfection) and there is a lot of great stuff in it, but right now I just finished a section about "numbing and leaning into the pain." It's actually really great cause that's how I try to live. I try to numb as little as possible (everyone numbs things, but if you numb your bad feelings you are also numbing your good feelings) and I do lean into the pain though I never called it that before... because if you lean into it then you get past it, faster. At least I do.

Unfortunately for those of you who read my blog, my leaning shows up on here a lot. So I guess, what I'm saying, is, yeah, pray for me (and if you want to get specific- pray for a tallish, darkish, and handsomeish gentleman to sweep me off my feet.) But try not to worry about me too badly... I'm actually doing well... I think I'm in the healthiest place emotionally that I have been since Nathan died. I have silly crushes and serious crushes and super close friendships and regular type friendships. I've got plans for the future and back-up plans for the future and I'm overcoming a lot of fears that I once had and used Nathan to take care of for me. All in all, I've come back into my own.

Do I feel like something's missing?

Of course. Because something is.

But that doesn't mean I don't lead a great life. And it doesn't mean that I'm sad and mopey and miserable all the time.

Cause I'm just not.

Oh, and Merry Christmas. :)

Christmas Mobius

Why you crying, there, pretty girl?

Cause I'm alone and lonely and afraid it will always be this way.

I cry because it hurts.

I love the holidays... that's why this is so hard.

In a lot of ways Christmas is worse for me than Valentine's Day. Some people don't celebrate Valentine's Day. Some people hate Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day is easily avoided and often people celebrate it on days other than *the* day. Plus... I've just never loved Valentine's Day... it doesn't matter that much to me. It's harder to get upset over something you just don't care about.

That isn't true of Christmas... I *love* Christmas. And Christmas is for celebrating with the ones you love. It's all about family. And there isn't a time in the world that makes me feel more left out and alone, because I had my own little family, and it's missing now... and I still mourn for the family I haven't gotten to have. Right now I should be wrapping presents for my children and posting Christmas photos on fb, but I fear I will never get that chance.

It's not that I don't have family-- far from it, I've been blessed with an abundance of family-- every one of which I love very dearly.

But no one else has quite the same family as me and that's just hard, cause someone is supposed to.

My sadness is just so complicated. It's a mobius ribbon... it all seems to makes sense and but it loops around itself, and if you cut it in half you just get a longer ribbon.

In one respect it's entirely about Nathan and on the other side it has nothing to do with Nathan- It's about not having someone to share the wonderful mayhem and havoc of the holidays with... but that leads back around to Nathan which leads me on a merry chase right back to where I started.

Alone and lonely and afraid it will always be this way.

And probably more honest than you really want to read on Christmas Eve.

Gilbert, Matthew, and Mocha

This morning I went into town and baked nut rolls with my mom and Pappy. Well, Pappy was more there for moral support... The nut rolls were *for* him, but he couldn't (and shouldn't) do too much. He's still hurting, "everyday."

It breaks my heart. I love him so much and I hate that he's in so much pain all the time. He's just like Nathan-- fiercely independent, even when he's hurting... but I recognize the sudden sharp intake of breath whenever he moves... And I want to be there, but at the same time it's so hard for me to see how similar things are with them. I'm just so torn.

I have a great wish in me-- that since I've lived through Nathan's death that my life's sorrows would be over. Surely that is enough for one person to endure? But I know that's ridiculous. There are still many and sundry pains and sadnessess waiting for me at unknown junctures down the road. My heart still has a lot of breaking to do-- if I'm lucky... because having a broken heart means that you have loved someone enough for it to matter.

When we got home I did a lot of sewing. I'm making two big projects for my nieces for Christmas- an apron and a car seat quilt (You tie it on the handle so it won't slip off.) I finished the apron today and I got a good bit into the quilt, and I watched cable for a while, but then I watched Anne of Green Gables, because I've had a hankering ever since I wrote my paper in my "Form and Theory of Prose" class.

It's such a good movie-- in part because it's my nostalgia at it's finest, in part because I identify so closely with Anne and Diana, and in part because it's just a good story.

I tell you what. You can keep your Mr. Darcys and your Prince Charmings. Find me a man who is a mixture of Matthew Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe and I'll love him forever and ever. (And I'll admit I also "wouldn't holler if he were as handsome as anything!" to mix my movie metaphors.) But seriously, there is a sweetness-- a tenderness-- that Matthew, Gilbert, have that I'm searching for.

It didn't used to, but these days the movie always makes me cry.

I cry about Matthew, which I wrote about in a different blog. And I cry because I somehow convinced Nathan to watch the movie once, and after suffering through for a while he actually really liked it and every once in a while when Anne does something especially ridiculous it brings back his laugh to me. I can't recall his chuckle on cue, anymore... we are far enough away that it's hard to hear his voice sometimes, and having something that brings it back for a moment... Well, it feels good and hurts all at the same time.

There was once a time when I loved hot cocoa, but now that I drink coffee, cocoa always seems like it's missing something for me... the chocolate isn't as good if it doesn't have that coffee bitterness mixed in...

My life is sorta like a mocha.

Renée in Real Life

Watching Dan in Real Life for the first time in a long time-- a good holiday feeling movie with family. I really like this movie. It's that beautiful mix of sad and funny.

Funny thing about Renée: Since Nathan died, I normally sleep with a huge pile of laundry on one side of my bed. I thought this was a weird thing that I did to make the bed not seem too big, to not feel so alone. I don't do it if I have company (in part cause my laundry is all put away in that case) but in part cause I just thought it was super weird and I try and hide my neurosis from other people... you know until I write about them on my blog.

But it turns out I'm not weird. Dan, who isn't really in real life, sleeps with the other side of the bed completely taken up with books.

I find a strange comfort in knowing I'm not alone... even if the only other person I know who is like me is in a movie.

"I'm looking for a book... something that can help me deal with what might be an awkward situation. Something funny might be nice, but not necessarily big, 'ha, ha, ha,' 'laugh, laugh, laugh' funny, and certainly not make-fun-of-other-people funny but rather something human-funny. And, uh, if it could uh, sneak up on you, surprise you, and at the same time make you think that what you thought wasn't only right, in a wrong kind of way, but when you're wrong, there's a certain rightness in your wrongness... Well, what I mean is, more importantly, I'm looking to be swept up! And at the same time, not." -Marie from Dan in Real Life

"It was all so beautiful."

"I love Bartok's music, as did Mr. Teszler, and he had virtually every recording of Bartok's music ever issued. And it was at his house that I heard for the first time Bartok's Third Piano Concerto and learned from Mr. Teszler that it had been composed in nearby Asheville, North Carolina in the last year of the composer's life. He was dying of leukemia and he knew it, and he dedicated this concerto to his wife, Dita, who was herself a concert pianist. And into the slow, second movement, marked 'adagio religioso,' he incorporated the sounds of birdsong that he heard outside his window in what he knew would be his last spring; he was imagining a future for her in which he would play no part. And clearly this composition is his final statement to her -- it was first performed after his death -- and through her to the world. And just as clearly, it is saying, 'It's okay. It was all so beautiful. Whenever you hear this, I will be there.'" - Ben Dunlap

http://www.ted.com/talks/ben_dunlap_talks_about_a_passionate_life.html

2nd Christmas

I've noticed I'm much more prone to tears this holiday season.

Now some might blame that on how little sleep I'm getting of late.

Not gonna lie- that's possible. I left work early today because my head hurt so bad I couldn't think and I slept from 2:00 ish until 6:30 without any hesitation.

But I think what it really is, is that this year my heart is more vulnerable. Last year I was so guarded about it being the "first" Christmas... and I was so aware of the upcoming 1 year mark. So I just didn't let myself think about it or feel it. And I've always loved Christmas... but I just kept it shut down, cause I couldn't handle it.

I can handle it this year... but it still makes me sad. Christmas is not the same without your person. Have you listened to Christmas music lately? It's all about being with the ones you love (most especially the *one* you love) or missing the one you love. (...or Jesus. There's a goodly amount of Christmas music about Jesus, too. :) )

But Christmas just isn't as much fun without your person.

All the driving... no good without someone to share it with-- or to just drive for me, who am I kidding?

There is a lot less sneaking around-- which is also less fun.

I don't decorate because it makes me so sad. Nathan hated decorating a tree when we got married and slowly but surely I was convincing him that 1) decorating a tree doesn't take any talent. and 2) it is fun... But it's not fun when you are doing it alone. At least not for this extrovert. Plus you know what I don't want to see? The beautiful "our first Christmas" ornament that's hiding somewhere in my boxes of Christmas decorations.

And taking it down would be even worse, because even that has memories attached. One year I took our tree down on Valentine's Day as a gift to Nathan. He was so exasperated. :)

So maybe next year I'll be able to decorate. I'm not sure.

Last year I was just trying to survive. This year I'm *trying* to enjoy. But it's not easy, because there is nothing like the holidays to make you feel even lonelier than you normally do.

Unfair

Last night I was trying to write when I was hit with some pretty intense upper back pain. I think that it was from taking a nap and sleeping on it wrong and then sitting strangely on the couch while writing... Well, to be honest, I sit strangely pretty often... always have.

Yep.

Anyway, I was trying to write, but pretty soon I couldn't. So I went and took a couple of Tylenol because that's a muscle relaxant, and I dug out my heating pad and put it on my back and waited.

And there was no position that made it hurt any less and it took quite some time before it I started to feel even mildly better... and it made me cry. It didn't make me cry because my back hurt so much, though it was rather painful. I cried because Nathan went through that... only his didn't end with a few tylenol, a heating pad and some sleep. It kept going for months and months on end. And it just made me even more aware of how amazing he was and how sad I am that he had to hurt for so long.

I hate how unfair life is sometimes. He didn't deserve the pain he went through.

I miss him. Still.

Always.

Bittersweet

So I've been watching this show on TV called Go On. It's a Matthew Perry show about this guy whose wife died, and now he's in a grief group.  And after that is a show called The New Normal which I'm really enjoying. And then after that is a show called Parenthood. And every Tuesday I think that I should stop watching after The New Normal... and every Tuesday I watch it anyway. Lorelai Gilmore (otherwise known as Lauren Graham) is on Parenthood, and a husband and wife are dealing with her cancer diagnosis.

And it hurts to watch but I do it anyway, because it feels like someone else understands.

For an example: the husband had a mini rant about how someone came up to him and said "God only gives you what you can handle" and how angry that made him.

I literally gasped.

And then when the wife went in to have her first chemo treatment I cried. They get it right on that show-- it really looked like a hospital room.

I want so badly to have a place to go when I'm sad.

I mean, it's tomorrow now and I'm fine, but I really wish I had a shoulder to cry on when I need to cry. Crying alone is the pits.

I've healed up really well, but there are always going to be moments that hurt, and as it stands now I just have to soldier on...

Yesterday I seriously considered posting on fb that I would make baked goods for the next single guy to give me a hug... and then I realized how few single men I knew and got bummed out all over again.

Also, since it's fb official now, I can announce that I have a new niece!

Annika (ah-nik-a) Joy was born yesterday... which may have contributed to my sadness as well... not because I'm sad for a new baby, of course, but because Nathan should be here for this.. he was always so excited about a new niece or nephew.

I'm really ready for things to not be so bittersweet.

Just sweet, please.

So Different

Three years ago today, at 8PM, the course of my life was inextricably altered from the path I expected it to go down with three words. Acute Myeloid Leukemia.

Today on my drive into work I saw a person being placed on a stretcher after a motorcycle accident.

Life is not always what you think it will be. Every day that your plans go as designed is a minor miracle.

My life is so very different from what it was 3 years and one week ago... So different that I often feel like it was another life, lived by another person. So different that it feels like something I watched happen on a tv show.

In my Creative Writing class, I really don't want to turn into the girl who only writes about death and cancer and dealing with it all. But at the same time... It's something that I know-- something that I know rather well. And it seems like everything keeps coming back to it, no matter how I try to run from it.

It's hard to know how to embrace and accept something you never wanted to be, but are, nonetheless.

It's hard because you desperately want everyone to know but you don't wanted to be treated differently.

Actually that isn't true. I do want to be treated differently. When it comes down to it I want respect for living through it. I don't need the sympathy, and I don't want the pity. I have no use for being treated with kid gloves or for "handle with care" signs. But I want the recognition that I know a tiny bit more about life than my age or my appearance would imply. I want the respect of somehow managing to still thrive despite tragedy. I want the acknowledgement that I make pretty kick-ass lemonade out of some horrendously rotten lemons.

There are times I just feel so different. I'm an okapi... I look like part zebra, part pony, but I'm actually a lot closer to a giraffe... and I don't really fit in anywhere. Heck, most people aren't really even aware that okapi's actually exist, beyond tangentially. They certainly don't expect to just run into one in the middle of their day.

Hurting

Yesterday's word was narwhal. Yep, that one was hard to just casually drop in... thus why that bacon video seemed to come from nowhere. Maybe a little suspicious, but you shouldn't be angry with me. And if you are, you should get unangry. Narwhals are not easy things to hide.

So... the thing that's important about today is my Pappy.

I've not been talking about it much on my blog... in part because if I don't mention it then it feels like somehow it's not happening. But his health isn't so great. In fact it's been pretty lousy.

He's been in and out of the hospital 2 or 3 times in the past month and he's been dealing with chronic and intense back pain.

And today he fell at home and now is back in the hospital. He's been dealing with compression fractures in his spine. Those are what Nathan had. I could tell it was the same sort of issue when I was home last week and saw him- and it just about ripped out my heart. They moved the same way. They sat the same way. They held their breath and attempted to control the pain through measured inhalations and exhalations exactly the same way.

I know too much.

I just know too much. I know too intimately how much he's hurting. I know how little doctors can really do about it, and I know how little the pain meds can touch it. (While they screw up every other system in your body.)

And that's part of the problem, because through all of this I'm dealing with Nathan stuff *and* Pappy stuff... and so it all hits extra close to home and I feel even more keenly my inability to do anything. And I'm dealing with what basically amounts to emotional flashbacks.

I hate the people I love being in pain. I'd much rather it be me.

Fun Fact: My grandmother is 78 years old and that is her natural hair color... just a hint of grey around her temples.

*sigh*

So I have a confession... I thought about not blogging about this because I feel really bad and embarrassed about it. Like... a little heart-brokenly bad.

I wanted to blog about my friend Janis and how cool she is and how she sends me super awesome postcards.

I wanted to blog about Dr. Who.

I wanted to blog about happy trees and rainbows.

But tonight I was reading facebook and came to a post from one of my former teachers. It was about how tomorrow is she and her husband's 28th wedding anniversary.

And that's when I remembered. At 10:45 the day before. And really only because I remembered that this teacher and I shared our anniversaries.

Tomorrow (Today for most of you) is my 5th wedding anniversary.

Now there are lots of excuses I can use to explain why I hadn't been thinking about it. Being very busy with video game stuff, preaching mentoring, grad school stuff. Events in my head looming up like Josh and Kara's ordination, the baby dedication, Josh and Kara moving, upcoming 29th birthday, a trip home, 10 years of friendship with Kara, 1st day of school.

But none of that makes me feel better about the fact that I forgot. I'll admit that I sent Kara an e-mail that had some curse words.

I miss him every. single. day. How could I forget about this day?

The only thing that makes me feel any better about this is that I have Nathan's voice in my head- so real it's *almost* audible

"Sweetheart, it's ok!"

How?

Well, despite not remembering what tomorrow was, I'd made nearly all day plans this week with a small group of  friends... Tomorrow I'm going to a Batmanathon, culminating in going to see the newest Batman film.

How is watching a bunch of super dark movies reassuring? Well, the thing is that Batman Begins (the first movie that we will be watching tomorrow) was Nathan and my first real date. (It took until our 2nd go-round to have a real date.) I can still remember how he wanted to tell everyone that we were dating and he called Paula on the way to the movie theater to let her know that he was going on a date with his girlfriend.

This Batmanathon wasn't my idea... in fact it came from a kinda unexpected source... well, "unexpected" except in that eerily fitting way that makes you think that it isn't all coincidence.

I've never seen the second movie, because I knew how dark it was. So I thought it was a bit strange how excited/interested I was in doing this. But, you know, if Nathan was here, he'd be working so hard to convince me to do this for our anniversary.

So my plans... they kinda feel a bit like Nathan is trying to suppress a fond chuckle as I cry about what a terrible wife I am.

I can almost feel his hand stroking my hair.

I can almost hear his, "Sweetheart! It's fine! You are being ridiculous."

I really miss being called "Sweetheart."

Speaker for the Dead

Oh my heavens, I haven't worn my hair curly in days and days and I've missed it so!

Yeah, I know that has nothing to do with the title of this post... but I just wanted to say it.

Now to the title. You may or may not be aware that Speaker for the Dead is the sequel to Ender's Game. Well, if you aren't that's fine. All you need to know it that in the books, "Speakers research [a] dead person's life and give a speech that attempts to speak for them, describing the person's life as he or she tried to live it. This speech is not given in order to persuade the audience to condemn or forgive the deceased, but rather a way to understand the person as a whole, including any flaws or misdeeds." (quote directly pulled from the wikipedia article)

I spoke at preaching mentoring tonight. Last sermon. It went over pretty well, but it was definitely the one I was most nervous about, because it was my "Nathan-talk." I wouldn't quite say that I was really a "Speaker for the Dead," but everything that I said is so wrapped up, in, and around Nathan's death that it  sorta feels that way... and I do think that I am sharing what he would want others to know.

For a long time now I've had a version of this talk on my laptop and I decided that if the whole point of going through preaching mentoring was to figure out how to talk about God to a crowd of people so that I could talk about Nathan, well, then I probably needed to do so.

So I took it out and brushed it off. I worked on it's flow and changed quite a bit of it- taking things out and putting things in, until I was ok with it. And then tonight I gave it. Everyone responded really positively, which was nice... I just... I just feel like it's something that I have to say.

And now I know that I can do it. I've wondered a bit if I would be able to get through a talk like that, but I did just fine, despite Kara being there and getting all red-eyed. (Ok, fine, I had to ignore her so I wouldn't cry, too, but I ignored her like a champ!)

One of the people tonight asked me if this is a sermon that I would really want to preach to a whole church. (Because I mentioned in the talk that I don't want (or like) pity, and because it is such a personal topic.)

And oh gracious, the answer is yes.

If there was a way that I could tell my story to every church in Springfield I would. If I could speak at a conference I would. If I could give a TED talk I would. I have this *amazing* story of love and joy and God bringing beauty from the ashes, and I've been trying to find a way to share it with more than just my innermost circle of friends for such a long time.

All I need is an audience of people willing to listen.

Beautiful Things

We now return you to your regularly scheduled, non-emo blog.

Wanna see something amazing? Watch this video.

That guy is from Springfield. What an incredible spirit.

He's one of those people I feel like I've seen a lot but never actually met... but then again he might just have that kind of face. I wish I actually knew him, rather than him being a friend of a friend of a friend.

In entirely unrelated news: there is a Snow Biz a block and a half away from my apartment! You should come visit me and we should take a stroll.

Yeah... that's really all I have for today.

So I think you should take some time to enjoy this song with a lyric video that someone worked very hard on... and then stuck some candles in.