My Village

They say "It takes a village", and I have the best village around. Seriously. A few weeks back one of my friends told me she wanted to organize a group of people to come and help me out with some housework, and I gladly accepted. All I had to do was be there and tell them what to do. 

Clockwise from top left:  Katie & Elena tilling soil.  Anna-Lisa and pregnant Sheena working in the side yard.  Mandy feeding Aria, Katie & Whitney w/ Giovanni & Ryker in the background.  Mandy working on the umbrella base.  David & Ben working on the baby swing and Robb in the shadows with the bird feeders.

They showed up with food, drinks, work gloves, cleaning supplies, a couple babies and servants hearts at 7:30 this Saturday morning.

God blessed us with beautiful weather and my "somebody-else's-honey do list" got done! Mowing, weeding, fertilizing, bagging wet leaves, tilling, moving rocks, hanging a baby swing, setting up the umbrella and a few other yard tasks were all done in 3 hours. Aria was loved on and kept busy with the other kiddos while I pretty much bossed everyone around. (Hehe).

Not only did so many of my chores get done, but I also got to catch up with some of my dear friends that time has not allowed me to see enough.

Later Aria and I gave the swing a try and she is one happy baby! We played in the grass and I didn't have to keep her from trying to eat the field of dandelions.

To add to all the outdoor help, when I was away earlier this month I came home to find that my amazing neighbor, who has been tenderly taking care of my yard (and snow removal) for the past 7 months, had replaced my very broken fence gate. I still have to chat with him for more details on how he graciously took care of this for me.    

I truly could not do this without the amazing people God has placed in my life. 

Brandon asked only 2 things when he knew he was going Home. One - for us not to be mad at God, and two - to take care of his girls. And on days like today I like to think that he is in Heaven, joined by the loved ones of my "villagers" watching God's Kingdom at work here on earth, taking care of his girls.  And they are overjoyed for us all.  I could not be more thankful.

Miracle Moments

It's been a while.  Time has been hard to come by, as have words to describe this part of life.  I've tried to get just a quick update out with some pictures numerous times, but I've found nothing to say.

Where am I in this season?  I don't know.  Some days I don't cry, but those days are usually very long and exhausting days.  Other days I long for the time when Aria goes to bed so I can sit in my misery a little bit, if I even have the energy to do so.

I've been attending a Widow/Widower group at a non-profit grief support center.  I was initially discouraged by the fact that it's clear across Denver, about a half hour drive away.  I questioned God, "Why don't you ever bless me with proximity?!"  But I found after just one meeting that it was worth every minute and every mile.  My friend encouraged me to use that drive time intentionally.  I have some quiet time to myself, so why don't I make phone dates for that time? (Don't worry - I chat hands free.)  Another idea she had was to listen to audio books or sermons on the drive.  Now, I actually look forward to my drives across town.  I've drawn strength from various sermons, gained a better understanding of Grace and Heaven from numerous books, and have whined, cried, yelled and laughed in rare uninterrupted adult conversation on these weekly evening drives.  I never would have anticipated how God would use that time to minister to my heart so much.  A blessing in disguise.  

Then I arrive to a room full of others who are the remaining half of a whole.  Some as recent as just a month before - sitting there disoriented and shocked that they are indeed at a Widow(er)'s group.  Others 5-10 years out, now giving back to the place that held them up in their devastating loss.

Every time I pull up to the HeartLight Center I am still in disbelief that this place I feel so at home at is part of a Funeral Home.  I shake my head and repeat for probably the 20th time that day, "How did this happen?  How did this actually happen?"

But once inside I'm greeted by those who know the pain and loneliness I'm feeling.  There is something amazing that happens when a room of 25 people can share the raw unedited emotions of bereavement, the thoughts that seem truly crazy and the ridiculous things we find ourselves now doing, and almost every head in the circle is nods in agreement.  Though it feels like it, we are not alone, and I am so thankful for that.

I've also been attending GriefShare, a 13 week program hosted all over the nation.  This week part of the topic was on "Miracle Moments". "A miracle moment is when God's presence suddenly appears and is so profound that it changes your perspective. - Zig Ziglar"

I feel I have been blessed to have had many of these throughout this journey.  Truly it is what has been getting me through.  Since Tuesday's meeting I have been asking God to give me a Miracle Moment.  I have kept my mind open, but I wasn't finding anything.  I was frustrated and just feeling deflated and so far from Brandon.

Then after Aria went to bed I was drawn to my office where I felt ready to listen to a CD I found while organizing my office earlier this week.  A CD of songs Brandon had made for me when we were dating.  

How the heck this turned up is honestly beyond me.  It moved with us from Pennsylvania to Texas and then relocated 4 times within Colorado, and yet it was in a box in my office closet.  Not in the crawl space with all that useless crap that has remained unopened since it was sealed and loaded in a Uhaul 10 years ago, but in the only box in the closet.  And I have no recollection of seeing this CD since Brandon gave it to me in college.  But there it was.

I listened to the songs lightly as I looked back on pictures of us, leaning into my grief.  But suddenly I was attune to just a couple lyrics:

'I'm gonna be here for you from now on,
This you know somehow.
You've been stretched to the limits but it's alright now.
And I'm gonna make you a promise
If there's life after this,
I'm gonna be there to meet you with a warm, wet kiss.'

(Keith Urban - Making Memories of Us)

The tears flowed freely.  Sadness.  Heartache.  Disbelief.  Anger.  Resolution.  Hope.  Gratefulness.

I got my Miracle Moment.  God reminded me that our love and our lives are eternal, and Brandon is eagerly awaiting that moment, just as I am.  I needed that, and it felt almost as if Brandon had said it directly to me.  I believe God knew when Brandon made that CD for me 10 years ago that I would need to hear exactly that tonight.  And somehow that CD found it's way into my hands just when I needed it.  And tonight I will be grateful for that.

6 Months later...

6 months....

Only 6 months, yet already 6 months.  I keep telling myself that with each day passed I'm not one day further from Brandon, but one day closer to him.  Some days that is comforting and some days it isn't.

Why is 6 months so much more "significant" then 5 months or 7 months?  Because it's an easier way for our brain to categorize a length of time?  Half a year?

I have found that, especially being Type-A, I want to figure out my grief.  I want to check the boxes.  Denial - check!  Anger - not checked?  Bargaining - check! Depression - double check! Acceptance - check.  Ok - so, let's work on anger... I have some plans to go Gallagher on some watermelons soon. (For you youngins' click here to understand.)

But these are just 'normal' stages in grief.  They are far from the only stages, and just because we can check the box next to it doesn't mean we have completed that step once and for all.  Hardly.  I feel like I have to accept this loss all over every day, often in different ways.

At my GriefShare group this week I stared at the carpet and for the first time it actually sank in that I have to raise a child on my own.  ON MY OWN.  That is a huge undertaking!  And I am not prepared, at all.  I have no experience with kids.  I was counting on having the help of my husband.  But I don't.  It's just me raising Aria.  Alone.

6 whole months, and I still woke up disoriented the other day.  "Uhhh, why do I always have to get up to get the baby?"  Oh, right - because I'm the only parent.  This nightmare is still real...

So halfway through the first year, what should I expect in my grief?  How can I categorize where I am?  Well, for some the fog is just starting to lift and the pain is setting in.  For others, the demands of responsibilities or dependents allow that fog to hang around longer.  And yet many involved with "expectant death" or "terminal illness" started grieving long ago, and it may be 6 months - but it's also much longer then 6 months.  "Everyone grieves differently."  Gosh, if I have to hear that again my brain may explode.

But it's true.  That's why it is repeated so often.

So I have no "how to" to reference.  And I want one.  I feel so numb.  I robotically go about my days.  I feel guilty that I am not crying over every "trigger".  Shouldn't I?!?  This bag of skittles should have leveled me.  Why can't I cry about it?  Ok, let's sit in the moment and journal about it.  "They" say to lean into your grief.  Don't run from it.  Feeling it brings healing.  But, don't chase after it either, because it will find you when the time is right.  So what the hell do I do?  Journaling brought me nothing.  Am I still in shock?  Is this acceptance?  Am I avoiding the pain? Where do I go from here?

When we are somewhere we don't want to be, what do we do?  Look for a way out.  But the problem is, there isn't really a way "out" of this.  You have to go through it.  And you don't know how to do it other then trial and error.

In reflecting on all of this the other day I feel like God gave me a little gift of a memory from those horrific three months.  Right now my brain has sort of blocked out that time unless I intentionally go digging through it.  But I got flashes of the numerous times Brandon made a point to say, "I'm so proud of how you are handling this, hunnie.  You are an amazing and strong woman."

During that time I was just trying to be his strength.  Trying to handle myself with dignity.  Find the joy among the pain.  Cling to God, not run from Him in anger.  I just wasn't going to let reality take me down and keep me from being the wife I needed to be.

And that's what I seem to be doing now, except substitute "wife" with "mother".  I think this is exactly how Brandon would want me to be grieving.  Seeking support, going about my days and bringing Aria joy and laughter.  I think he would be proud of me.  I don't need to be doing these things I think I "should" be doing to grieve.

Maybe that day will come where I am overcome with pain to the point of delirium.  But maybe it won't.  Or maybe it will just look different for me.

I'm working on finding peace in the way I'm grieving.  Give myself the grace to just go where it takes me.  Good days and bad days.  Numbness or not.  If I feel I am robotically getting through, maybe that's exactly what I need to do to survive as a single mother right now.  Maybe that is simply the grace of God in my life?  Maybe I am incredibly blessed that God is truly carrying the weight of this for me right now?

So where am I in my grief 6 months later?  I guess just where I need to be....

*Note: As I quickly edit what I wrote late last night I am finding peace and truth in it.  Today is our 9 year wedding anniversary - and by the grace of God I am getting through so far...

March Update

My little nugget is crawling!  Somewhere between 7 and 8 months, she has become super mobile.  It started with an army crawl, then quickly progressed to a wobbly crawl and now is full speed ahead where ever her little heart desires to go.  She giggles at her new found freedom, alerting me that she's on the move.

This age is so fun.  Interaction is more intentional and she is finding her voice and stating her opinions (uh-oh!).  She is expressive like me and content like Brandon.

Nothing melts my heart like when she lays her head in my lap and smiles up at me.

As for me, things have improved a little since my last post about the messy truth.  

God put it on my mom's heart to pay me a visit for a long weekend, and the timing couldn't have been more perfect.  She helped me get my head above the water.  We took care of my taxes (ouch!), looked at the big picture of my budget and played out numerous hypothetical scenarios for the short term future so I know better where I stand.  Finally having a clearer picture of my financial situation has relieved a tremendous amount of weight from my shoulders.  

Without sharing too much, but also acknowledging that my survival right now has been contingent on other's generosity, I would like to share a few details of how the gifts we have been given have blessed me.

Brandon and I always had to give with our time because we could not give above and beyond with our wallet.  I know how valuable time is.  Now more then ever.  Many have given to us this way in taking care of yard work, snow removal, child care, counseling, praying, cooking, corresponding and such, all making a huge impact on my grief and day to day life.

We have also received many donations of baby gear, which has been an amazing financial relief. I just love when I see a last name written on the tag of a bib or jacket, reminding me of the kind families who have given so much.  

Then there has been the monetary help.  I shake my head and sigh, because there is no way to put into words how grateful I am for the tremendous generosity of friends, family and complete strangers.  

Since so many gave in this way, it has allowed me many things in this time.  I can keep our house with all our memories.  I am not forced into having to make decisions regarding Brandon's things.  I can leave them right where he left them until I am ready to do otherwise.  This is an absolutely priceless gift.

I have cut nearly everywhere I can, but for now can still have some luxuries like cable for distraction and a semi regular hair appointment.  I have even been able to treat myself from time to time with dinner to-go, a massage, a manicure or a little retail therapy from one of the many gift cards I received. 

In the beginning of the year I was contacted by a bunch of the guys that Brandon had walked through the past 5+ years with, many of them the husbands to my close girl friends.  They wanted to come by and give me a gift.   A pledge and financial sacrifice from 12 guys (and their families) to help me with the cost of childcare for the entire year!

I think back to the things Brandon repeated the most in that last month. "Thank you so much for taking such good care of me" to all of his caretakers, and "Take care of my girls, please just take care of my girls."  I think he is rejoicing in Heaven watching how God has used so many people to grant that request.

After stepping back looking at my budget I can see how God works in such incredible ways.  With more then half our household income gone, minimal social security benefits and the added expense of a child and child care, guess what?  I have exactly what I need to get by.  No more, no less.  That's how God works.

My mom getting taken
advantage of by baby and cat

He gives us what we need.  And before this "accounting miracle", I had sadly accepted the idea that I may have no choice but sell the house.  Maybe God was going to take me somewhere else?  Or I may have to get rid of cable and internet.  Maybe I need to be less concerned with the worldly?  Or I may have to use all of the donated money in the next few years to stay afloat and not be able to save any of it. Maybe God is asking to be my only safety net?

No, none of that is what I would want, but it may be what I need for what ever reason I may never understand.

But for now, I am grateful that I get to stay, I get to watch Master Chef, and I get to have a little security for the unknown ahead.  Any day they too can be gone.  I've learned there is a lot that I thought I needed that has since been lost to me, but I've found the only thing I really need is my faith in God.

Thank you for continuing to walk this with me.  Please pray as the upcoming weeks are going to be some of the most difficult to date, with the 6 month Angelversary and our 9 year Anniversary just days apart (March 23rd & 25th).  Turns out my Widow & Widowers group is the evening of our Anniversary, and it may be exactly where I need to be that night...

The Messy Truth

This is the messy truth. This post will be unedited. I won't save it, pray over it and reread it 50 times before posting. I'm not going to try to find the optimistic view or white knuckle the thread of hope I have been clinging to. The only thing I'm going to do, is what God has put on my heart to do today, and that is to be transparent.

I'm actually following suit after reading a similar, what's the word....confession... from someone who has found herself at the end of herself, trying to remain who she was in circumstances out of her control.  

Those close to me have seen some of this mess, but even that is usually sandwiched between the 'coping by distraction' me and the 'pick yourself up by the bootstraps' me.  These alter egos are real and authentic. They have been the only way I've made it this far. But as I'm finding, they only go so far because grief is constantly evolving. 

I felt God tell me that I have to let myself accept the other me. The 'falling apart and it's ok' me. And that I may need to expose it.

I have been clinging to something that God put in my heart a few months ago.  That He made me for this. This. Young, grieving, single mother, widowhood with chronic illness. And not only did He make me to survive this, but to thrive in it.

My independent, go-getter, problem solving, systematic, community seeking, love of leadership and authentic nature all will be used for God's glory through this tribulation. But really, how well can it be used if I don't also share the depth of the darkness and the extent of the mess I sit in?

Want to see?

This is my life. A complete and utter mess.  Half the bed piled with clothes, Christmas ornaments, a fan and God knows what else. My luggage from Christmas hasn't moved since I finally unpacked two weeks ago. Yup - took me until the beginning of February to unpack.  Part of my closet collapsed a couple months ago.  Oh well. I am living like a bachelor pulling wrinkled but clean clothes out of the laundry basket on the floor.  My attempt to set up my work at home office has hit a standstill and I tiptoe around the organized chaos of piles to file, to shred, to recycle, to put away, etc. then close the door on it. Those who know me know that my environment drastically effects my well being, and I have never in the last 9 years lived like this.  (Don't worry, the baby and the spaces she inhabits are safe. She is my priority.)

My body is falling apart. Constant headaches, lupus flare, a month long steroid treatment, nightmares, night sweats, painful bruises all over, nausea. The recent stress has drastically effected my milk supply and I think I'm coming to the end of my abilities to nurse.

I'm at the far extents of survival mode. If something is not bringing 100% positivity to my life, it's out for now because I can not carry one more ounce on my shoulders. I haven't watched the news in over 6 months, it's just too negative. In the rare times I can watch a little TV, it's either Ugly Betty or cooking shows, because even HGTV brings too much stress with couples buying their first home, or renovating before the new baby arrives.

These are the parts of my life I have been keeping the doors closed on when people are around. 

When you look at what I will allow you to see it looks how I so desperately want it to look like myself. A bit disorganized and not like it used to be, but overall ok-ish:

But I'm not ok. I can't keep my head above the water lately. Wave after wave of crap keeps hitting me. The life I had is completely gone. Gone. Everything in my world is different. Everything in my day to day life is different. I had no choice in any of this. I feel like I'm navigating this alone because there is no one who can take the place of your soul mate. 

I just want a break. I wish I could just get away from it all. A chance to collect myself and regain strength. Just press pause. Better yet, how about fast forward? To the other side of this. 

I have so many people who want to help. New friends and old. But I don't even know what to ask for at this point. It doesn't feel like anything can help this. 

Who can help me coparent? Who can grab the baby in the middle of the night to give me a break? Who can 'keep an eye on her' while I wait for the headache to go away, or grab me some ibuprophen when I can barely move in the morning? Who can take away this feeling like half of me is gone? 

I have found tangible ways to receive help, and seriously I have the best community of people who have gone above and beyond. Meals, cleaning, companionship, last minute child care, funding for child care, cards, care packages, messages, anticipating difficult days...I seriously could go on and on. Without you all, I really can not even imagine how utterly disastrous my life would be right now. And as you read this you probably feel helpless. You are doing everything you can, but there really is nothing anyone can do to mend a broken heart. That's God's job. 

I am going to therapy and multiple grief groups weekly. I am praying and seeking God's word. I beg for His peace that surpasses understanding that has gotten me through the past 7 months. And at times I feel it.  But not today. Not for the past couple of weeks.  But still, I trust that God is allowing this. There is something I need to see or experience or learn or grow from through this part. It all has passed through His all knowing and loving hands.  But it doesn't mean I have to like it.  

I know I'll get through this. I don't give up. I want to, that's for sure. But I can't. I have a beautiful daughter that needs me. Most days she is the only thing that makes me plow forward. That she needs me to put my big girl pants on, buck up and be strong for her.  So I do the best I can...