Where have you been?

Where have you been? How are things going? Are you OK?

Honestly, I don't even know how to answer those simple questions anymore.

This journey is the hardest most confusing path I have ever walked in my life.

They say there is no right or wrong way to "do grief". 

There is no formula for how to do this. 1 therapy session a week + 1 support group + 3 self help books = healed! Nope. I wish.

Instead you fumble your way through each day, each "phase", each trigger date, each milestone of months passed and wonder, did I do that right?

We each do what we need to do to get through, but in grief we are often very critical of ourselves and it makes it even harder. But the reality is that I have no idea how to "do this", other then to survive it.

I really was doing it well for a while there. But I knew that one day that would come crashing down, I just didn't know when and I didn't know what it would look like. And then it happened. I spiraled into darkness and chaos for a while. 

Slowly I've been finding my way to steadier ground but not without some battle wounds, however I'm pretty sure that's just how life goes.

So where have I been and how are things going? 

Honestly, I've been searching for myself. Not only did I loose my spouse, but I lost myself, my identity. Two became one, so when Brandon died I felt like I lost half of me and all of my future.  He was my security and my confidence and truly my better half. And at the same time I have to also adjust to the new role of mother...actually single mother. 

I've spoken with numerous other widow/widowers and this is very common to not only miss our spouse, but miss ourselves. Yes, I miss me too. I want to find her again. I used to like her. Now it's like I am desperately searching for someone but I don't even know who I am looking for.

I have been trying to rest in the fact that God knows who I am, and I am not my grief, my insecurities or my mistakes. I am simply broken, and I am loved for exactly who I am. A child of God who is hurting and finding her way through this loss, and that is OK. I am loved and covered in grace. 

So wish me luck as I continue to "find my new normal", "put the pieces of life back together" and "keep on keepin' on", "one day at a time" - and all those other cliche (but true) sayings.


*I want to share some beautiful moments from Brandon's birthday and first Angelversary soon, so be on the lookout for another update soon (hopefully!). 

We don't graduate from this

I so wish I had something uplifting and inspiring to share, but sadly I do not.  I have been waiting to be in a decent state of mind before I share anything but it seems that if I wait on that it may be a while.

But I do want to send out a quick update and prayer request.

I think my last post said how I was going to lean into the grief and attempt to process the traumatic things that happened this time last year.  Well, to be candid, doing that seemed to open pandora's box.  Pair that with a gradual but very bad reaction to a new medication that nearly made me loose my mind, it goes without saying that it's been rough lately.  Very rough.

I am trying to navigate what I am calling a 'breakdown'.  A loss of control over my emotions and my mind really.  Ultimately, I held it together pretty good for pretty long, but all along I knew that this was going to happen, I just didn't know when or what it would look like.

Add my cat going missing and starting the process of getting Aria tested for Lynch Syndrome and Brandon's Birthday (tomorrow) and his upcoming Angelversary - I feel like I am at my limit.  Things got kinda scary and Brandon's family swooped in to help with Aria.

I got away for a long weekend last week without Aria and came back in a better state of mind then I left in.  Instead of feeling crazy everyday, it's on and off - so that is an improvement.

I know I'll get through this, and I know it's something I have to go through.  It just sucks and I wish I knew when the "end date" was.  But I also know better.  There is no end to grief, we just learn how to incorporate it into our lives.  We don't graduate from this.  But it will get lighter.

So, I write this to ask for these prayers:
-Aria to test NEGATIVE for Lynch Syndrome (cancer causing genetic mutation Brandon had)
-Clarity of mind and wisdom for me
-Peace beyond understanding for us all as we face these difficult days ahead

Thank you <3

Domino of Disaster Day

Today is the 1 year mark of the first “domino of disaster” being tipped. The date July 14th will always stick with me. That inevitable day that loomed ahead of us as we tried to enjoy every second of our short time as a new family of three.

However the days between the PET scan results on June 27th, the birth of Aria on July 2nd and the start of treatment on July 14th hardly allowed us that opportunity.

Once we got that dreaded call it was almost like Brandon stopped being able to fight the symptoms anymore, knowing it wasn't just a thyroid problem or a reaction to the Avastin preventative treatments. It was cancer. It was back. And in reality I lost him to it in the beginning of July.

Sadly we never had 1 normal night as a new family. Even before the chemo started Brandon was battling severe nausea, fatigue and pain and was mostly bedridden and unable to be the father and husband he so longed to be.

On July 9th we had our newborn photos taken and until he had to be in them he was in bed.

Days later I remember bathing Aria in the living room so that he could take part in it while resting on the sofa.

I spend a lot of time wondering what any random day would have been like for us had this not happened. I get mad because most of the time I can't actually imagine it. I have nothing to base it off of. I feel cheated and like something has been stolen from me. I let myself cry, pout, throw a pity party or punch a pillow. I sit in it for a moment. Marinate in the misery.

Often it's for just a minute or two, or an evening here or there. And every now and then I let it swallow me for an entire day.

But then, once I have felt that pain God reminds me that nothing will be lost in Heaven. I don't know how, but I believe with everything in me that He will redeem what death has stolen. A husband. A father. A complete family. That is the hope I hold on to. That alone is what gets me through each day and blankets me with peace beyond understanding.

As these trigger dates over the next 3 months approach I feel ready to take the next step and reflect back on the traumatic details as part of my healing process. I am rereading my updates day by day, and taking myself back to where I was a year ago.  (7/14/14 Update)

Though I have accepted what happened, and I have accepted my new reality, I have not yet processed how it all happened, and I think it is time that I do so.

I feel I need to unpack the painful memories I have compartmentalized so that I can come to terms with them. In the beginning those images were all I could think of. I pushed them away desperately wanting to remember anything else. But I couldn't.

Gradually I became able to remember Brandon prior to the summer from hell. But in a very strange way. Most of the time it feels like facts that I have memorized rather then memories of a life I lived. They feel foreign. I assume this is a very normal grief experience. A healthy way my brain is coping, by allowing me the memories, but minimizing the emotional association to them for now.

I do believe my brain will restore the memories to a more complete form when it is ready, but that day is not today - and that is ok. My brain knows what it needs to do to survive this and raise a toddler on my own, and I just have to wait it out and go along for the ride.

Thank you for supporting, encouraging and coming alongside me on this ride.

Trigger Dates...ready, set, go...

I have this urge to sit down and write, and I don't know what it is that is needing to come out.  Maybe it's the fact that starting today, the next 3 months are full of trigger dates.

Dates that stick in your mind and make you sit in thoughts and memories, both good and bad.

I feel I've turned a corner in my grief lately.  I've begun to figure out how to cope with this, not just survive it.  Writing about it seems to help for some reason.  And not just journaling, but sharing it publicly.

Journaling seems to have it's own specific purpose.  A place for me to release all the awful, scary, weird and confusing thoughts that swirl in my mind endlessly until released.  The things you dare not say out loud for some reason, however they still need to be processed and let go.

Then there is this.  I don't know why I feel the need to write here, but what I share feels spirit guided.  It's what God is putting on my heart to put into words and put out there for more then just myself to read.

I may have more posts as in these upcoming months as well.  In this new stage of grief I'm feeling the need to face these trigger dates head on and truly process them.  I even downloaded the Timehop app which shows you pictures and postings from your social media sites and phone from this day in years passed.  Until now I have hated seeing people's Timehop photos show up on my newsfeed.  I wished I could find it interesting to know, but it only made my reality hurt deeper.  But now, I think I'm ready to face the hurt that brings healing, so I will lean into it, not away from it.

One year ago on this day we found out the cancer returned by the results of Brandon's emergency PET scan.  I was in the last week of my pregnancy.  Fear consumed us.

I close my eyes and get visual flashes of parts of that day.  They are utterly hard to think about.  The feelings of that day come alive again.  My heart starts beating fast, anxiety rises, dreams start breaking and tears flow.

Four years ago on this day we awaited the results of Brandon's treatment completion PET scan.  I close my eyes and am now transported back to our apartment, and I feel the anticipation in waiting, and the hope for healing, and the fear of the unknown.  I took a moment to re-read my CaringBridge Update (<--click to read) from that day, and feel partly like I'm reading someone else's words, and partly like I just wrote them.  It's all very conflicting.

But what I have found to be very true is the common saying that "The only way to do it, is go through it."  Not around it, and not avoiding it.  And I feel ready to continue through the darkness of this grief.  "They" say there is light on the other side.  God says He can redeem anything, and I believe Him.  So I will try to walk by faith.  Steps that have never mislead me before.

First Father's Day

This past Sunday was Father's Day.  The first one.

The "firsts" of everything come with anxiety and uncertainty.  For me this one also came with purpose.  And my purpose was not simply to "survive" it, but to be intentional about it.  This was the first time I felt able to put some thought into one of these days.

In the weeks prior I spent some time in thought about what Aria and I could do, starting this year, to honor and remember her daddy.  I thought of what I would have done for Brandon's first Father's Day, and how could that translate in some ways?

I probably would have made him sleep in and brought him breakfast in bed.  We would have had a lazy morning then the three of us would have gone to the driving range together so daddy could hit a bucket of balls.  In a couple of years we all would have had our own bucket to hit, with daddy critiquing our swings and giving us tips.  He probably would have only hit a few balls himself, taking more joy in watching and helping his girls.  We would then have a picnic lunch at a park and probably spent the rest of the evening with family for dinner.

But that's not our reality. And tears fell freely imagining what could have been.

Instead, I got to sleep in til 9 am (thank you Aria!)  We had a lazy morning together, and during her morning nap I sat outside and painted 2 bird houses.

Brandon loved birds and would feed them with numerous feeders around the yard.  He even had a heated bird bath for the winter so they could drink easily.  He saw it a challenge to identify all the birds that came and find the particular kind of feed they preferred.  So every year on Father's Day Aria and I will paint birdhouses and hang them in the back yard.  Then, someday when she moves out she can take all of her painted birdhouses to her home to bring a little bit of daddy with her.

My thumbprint heart birdhouse and Aria's hand smudge birdhouse.

After she woke from her nap we went and got one of daddy's favorite foods, a double bacon breakfast burrito, and headed up to Mount Lindo to have a picnic lunch together.  It was a beautiful day, sunny and in the low 90's.  Even at almost 8,000 feet elevation it was hot, so I shaded us with an umbrella and we hung out there for an hour and a half.

Sharing Daddy's favorite burrito.

Just hanging out.

I was hoping to take a walk on the paths of Fox Hollow Golf Course with Aria, however she wasn't really up for it by the time we left the cemetery, but maybe next year.  So we headed home and played together.

All in all, it was.  It's hard to say it was "nice".  I mean, it was purposeful and meaningful.  But it was missing something.  It always will.  And that sucks.  There is no getting around it.

But I leave my hope in God.  And I know that no matter what pain and loss we feel here, nothing will be lost in Heaven.  Somehow, beyond my understanding, Brandon is not loosing his opportunity to be a father to Aria.  And I will do everything possible for Aria to feel like she knows her daddy.

Not long ago, a friend of mine gave me a priceless gift.  She has walked very closely with me through this experience and our friendship has blossomed in the past year since she moved back to Colorado.  Due to frequent moves in the past few years she never got to know Brandon personally.  However, she encouraged me with some beautiful insight that I have held close to my heart.  She told me that if I talk about Brandon to Aria in any way like I talk about him to her, Aria will undoubtedly know exactly who her daddy was.  From his silly nuances and annoying habits to his wise council and unwavering love.  She will know him.  All of him that I can give to her.

And I am grateful for that.  I already talk constantly about him with her.

I joke; "Daddy would have told me to stop trying to pick the booger out of your nose and just leave you alone!"

I inform; "Daddy probably wouldn't like me allowing you to do that."

I say tearfully and longingly; "Daddy would have loved to see you do that, sweet girl."

It's important to me that all her associations with daddy are not sad.  That's not how he would want his baby girl to know him.  Linked with loss and pain.  No.  He was full of life, love and laughter.  The loss is ours, not his.  But someday, that loss will be no more.  And that's what I live for.