Daddy's Heart

My siblings and I, especially Hannah and me, are always trying to get my mom to loosen up a bit.  My mom decided to come visit Hannah and me for Mother's Day since Izaiah was in the hospital and it was a rough time.  Like we do at least yearly, Hannah and I decided to try to convince Mom to get a tattoo with us.  We were super prepared this time, telling her it would solidify our bond and pulling out the (fake) tears.  Our idea was to get a tiny, simple little matching heart somewhere on each of our arms.  Of course Mom did not go for that idea, so we did pedicures instead.  I drew one onto my wrist, though, to show her how eensie it really would be.  No luck.

We decided to watch a movie while we did pedicures.  I will never forget the feeling I began to feel halfway into the movie.  I literally felt heartbroken.  It felt crushing, and my heart was physically hurting.  I sat through the rest of the movie, determined not to wuss out on our girls night.  All I could think about, though, was how heartbroken I felt and I could not understand why.  What in the world was wrong with me?  My heart had never physically hurt before.  But it wasn't a pain like "I need to go to the hospital" pain.  It was an emotional pain that tore all the way into my heart. As soon as the movie finished (12:07 to be exact) I ran into the other room and made Mark get up and hold me.  I thought something was really wrong with me because I felt devastated, like someone had died.  Mark convinced me to go to bed and sleep it off, assuring me I would feel better in the morning.

That was the day my dad died.  They found his body the next day.

We got to church the next morning and I knew right away that something was wrong.  The church leaders were rushing around and Mark was crying.  They took my mom and I into a conference room with Mark and some of the elders and Mark told us they had found dad's body.  My mom and I screamed.  It was the worst news, the kind you pray never to get.  No one knew anything except that he was found in the laundry room.  They said it must have happened that morning because he was dressed in his suit as if he were getting ready to leave for church.  I told everyone that he had died the night before, between 11:00 and 12:00, when I had had the heartbreaking feeling, but people insisted that he died that morning.

After what seemed like an eternity, the police concluded their investigation and my mom spoke to the coroner and detective who first arrived on the scene that morning.  They each said that Dad must have died instantly, because he was the most peaceful-looking body they had ever seen.  He hadn't felt a thing.  He didn't even have time to drop to his knees.  He just fell over and was gone instantly.  The autopsy supported their findings, showing that he died from a heart disease no one was aware he even had.

He had performed a wedding that afternoon, and then went to a business meeting in Little Rock.  During the break he played football.  This was the last picture ever taken of him.

I would like to think that's his guardian angel, ready to escort him up to heaven, since no one seems to be able to identify the other man in the picture.  He came home around 10:30 pm, then went in and talked to my brother for a few minutes.  He folded a load of laundry and then started putting in another load.  He went to pour the detergent and realized it was all gone.  That must have been the moment he died, because he never started the water or even made it to the recycling bin with the detergent bottle, something he would have done right away.  This would have put his time of death at around 11:00 pm.

The connection my dad and I have always shared has been very strong, but it puzzled me why I was the one that felt it when he died.  Felt the heartbreak, devastation, and actual pain in my heart.  I didn't know whether to feel comforted by my feelings that night or responsible for not doing something, like calling him.

My mom wanted him to be buried, and we decided to do an open casket for his wake.  My mom, siblings, Mark, Dre, and I gathered in the auditorium to view his body before others arrived.  As we looked at his body for the first time, it was crushing.  Yet there was a comfort I felt because he was not there.  The body was not him, but just a shell.  We all stood there together, trying to accept the moment.  Then we all seemed to see it at once and instantly we all gasped.  A beautiful, perfect little heart about the size of a dime was imprinted on his left hand.  It looked like a tattoo, but of course it couldn't have been.

Mom broke the silence.

"Well....I guess we're gettin' that tattoo."

I can't help but feel like my dad (or maybe it was God, who knows) put that there as a sign.  His last message of love to us.

Miss you, Dad. ♥

Hermann

We went to Hermann last weekend for a close friend's wedding.  Chris Landuyt, a dear, dear friend, married Ashley, who we love, in the most awesome setting.  Hermann is known for being a quaint little German town with lots of wineries.  Mark and I stayed at a bed and breakfast one night and now I'm hooked.  I always thought bed and breakfasts were the dumbest thing.  This was our first time to stay at one (other than Selah, but that was different because it was a retreat) and I realized I have been missing out for all these years!  Ours was called the Serenity Guest House.  The downstairs is a day spa and there are only two bedrooms.  You get the run of the entire house at night, but you have to share a bathroom, which is a little weird.  Totally worth it, though.

We had breakfast at this adorable little bed and breakfast run by a German couple.  Apparently they serve the best breakfast in town.  Their home was so gorgeous and the food did not disappoint.

The wedding was stunning.  It was held in a chapel overlooking the bluff.  Chris and Ashley were so happy and could not have been more beautiful.  My dad was originally supposed to perform the ceremony.  The man who ended up doing the ceremony used my dad's Bible and talked about him during the ceremony.  I was a little worried that others might find it tacky or that it would take away from Chris and Ashley's day, but it was beautiful.  They had a candle lit in my dad's honor that had a poem/message engraved into it.  They did a cool toast in the middle of the ceremony.  .Mark was in the wedding and was so so handsome :)

Hannah always catches the bouquet! 

My mom and sister came for the wedding, and this was their first wedding without my dad.  It was really good to be with them that day. Of course buckets of tears were cried, and we used his favorite shirt as a collective hanky.  I had asked God to let Dad be there for the wedding and to give us a sign that he was.  Other people kept saying they knew he was there or could feel him there. I was later disappointed because I had not felt him at all.

Ashley and Chris then posted this picture, and you can see the heart right under Chris's chin.  If you don't know the significance, I will post that story next.  I think I cried for an hour straight when I saw this.

Turbulance? I'm fine. My Dad is the Pilot.

I'm still crying every day.  Some days it will be 10:30 at night and I think, 'I haven't cried today! I'm getting adjusted.'  And then I get on facebook and see the picture of my dad with us on my sister's facebook wall and lose it.  A few days ago Izaiah begged to go see where Dad was buried when we go to Arkansas.  He asked to dig it up so he could lay there with him and cry.  Until then I had never envisioned going to his grave site.  The thought caught me off guard and sent a wave of longing through me.  He was buried close to my grandparents' farm and my family's property.  In recent years we didn't go there much together, but I can't remember a ride down to the country when my dad didn't drive.  You know the story in the Bible about the horrible storm while Jesus and the disciples were at sea?  Jesus slept right through it like it was nothing, and they had to wake Him up and beg Him to save them.  I have never had a hard time understanding that story.  My dad drove wherever we went, and there wasn't a safer place in the world to be as long as he was in that driver's seat.  I'm sure to some it might seem like such a silly thing but to me it feels like I will never have that innate sense of complete security ever again.  I've lost so much sense of safety with him no longer in this world.

I realized a new layer today of just how much of my identity has always been tied directly to my dad.  I was Jeff Woods' daughter.  Everywhere I went, everyone knew my dad and loved my dad.  I LOVED to tell people he was my dad.  It was instant acceptance, instant trust and respect.  Aside from "wise", "caring", and  "humble", when I think of my dad often a quote comes to mind.  I think you will likely agree that this quote could easily have been made with him in mind.

"People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel."

Monday Night Thoughts

*There have been several break-ins in our neighborhood in the past week.  I just watched a man pushing a lawn mower down the alley.  While I am a bit of a vigilante, it is getting tiring having to call the police constantly.  In the [recent] past I would have chased him down.  Now that I'm a mom, I don't feel quite as obligated to risk my life for someone's lawnmower.  Tonight, however, I was tempted.  A few months ago I had just had it with these two West County-looking guys about my age who keep meeting their dealer across the street from my house.  I yelled at them from my door and interrogated them, gave them a piece of my mind, and then took their pictures on my phone.  Yes, I am ballsy and a bit grouchy when my 16 year old has been purchasing drugs from some idiot in our neighborhood - maybe your drug dealer - and as a result he cannot live in my home.  So no, I will not keep my opinions to myself when you are purchasing drugs within feet of my front door in broad daylight and you can't even do it discreetly.  I have not seen them since.

*I think I have some sort of food allergies.  I'm trying to get back on my strict Weight Watchers diet, cutting out all dark meats and dairy.  When I do that, I feel great.  When I don't, I feel confused, nauseous, and my brain feels funny.  Is that from a food allergy?

*I'm finally starting to feel like I'm coming out of "The Fog".  Words - mine and yours - are starting to make sense again instead of just getting jumbled in my head and making me feel crazy.  It is still exhausting to try to learn to live without my dad, but I'm getting the hang of it.  It's just that every relationship I have has changed, every event, holiday, belief, interest, thought, and experience has completely changed in the context of my dad not being here.  It's hard to explain.

*Dina Lohan's interview on Dr. Phil was fascinating.  Dr. Phil at his best.

*I'm slowly learning that having people in our home does not have to look a certain way.  Sometimes we stop everything to watch "The Cosby Show".  We fart out loud.  It can be Mark telling three little boys who refuse to eat their dinner that he doesn't like the quiche, either.  It can be letting friends scrounge for food, even after we've just fixed a nice dinner.  Guests can clean up after themselves and do the dishes.  I don't have to serve dessert.  It's okay that the floors look filthy.  My child argues with EVERY THING I SAY.  There is always laundry on the family room couch that needs to be put away - always.  That's real life.  Welcome to the Fitzgerald's!

Social Workers

This is so true.  I get paid (crap) to do paperwork and piss people off.

Izaiah's Grief

Izaiah has had several great days in a row.  We had alone time together and he was kind and respectful.   He played a very successful game of Monopoly with me this morning.  This afternoon he even kissed me on the cheek!  *SWOON*

On Friday night, Izaiah insisted on watching this movie on Netflix called The Fifth Quarter.  It looked good, but sad.  We watched it as a family, and boy was it!  It was about a family whose teenage son was killed in a car accident and how they coped in the aftermath.  In the middle of it, Izaiah just burst into tears and was sobbing, saying he didn't want to lose his daddy.  Mark and I just held him and loved on him.  This was not completely out of nowhere, since he has been preoccupied with people he loves dying since my dad died.  I hate that he did not get to be with us for the Memorial Service.  I'm glad he was spared from all the agony the rest of us experienced that week, but since he did not witness the process, he has no reference point for how to grieve.  I can tell he is not sure whether to be sad, angry, confused, thankful, etc.  He brings it up several times a day, but in ways that tell me he is confused.  He will say, "It sure is gonna be hard without Papa," and sighs real big.  Later he will say something like, "Papa is stupid," and seems to be mad at him.  Some days he asks a ton of questions about Papa's new body, or if Papa is coming back.  He has been talking about not wanting to lose his grandma.

So when he cried during this movie, I was somewhat thankful since it gave him an outlet to express his fears and confusing emotions about death.  After we processed it together, something completely changed, and he has not been angry since.  I want to have something for Izaiah that helps him to remember my dad and their special relationship.  Izaiah adored my dad and he adored Izaiah.  One of the last things my dad posted on his facebook wall was this:

     "My profile pic is of me and my grandson whom I refer to at times as "Tornado" for a good reason.  I 
          love storms!!"

I desperately don't want Izaiah to forget that bond.  Thinking that he one day might makes me hyperventilate.  I have one of my dad's favorite t-shirts for Izaiah.  One of my mom's friends suggested making it into a pillowcase for his "snugglie" pillow.  If anyone has any other ideas, let me know.

Izaiah is HOME!!!!!!

Izaiah is HOME!!!!!!!!!!  We are sososososososososososo happy.  Also sosososososososo scared.  We had a big party for him, which was awesome!  He has so many amazing people that love him.  We are very blessed (and highly favored.......anyone?)

I'm okay with this blog becoming more grief related for a while.  I'm deeply grieving, and this blog is a cathartic outlet for me.  I'm sitting here in make-up for the first time in months.  Today will be the test of its proclaiming waterproof abilities.  Any time I thought of my dad before he died, just thought about him, it would make me tear up.  I just loved him so much, so ridiculously much.  Any moment I was away from him was hard for me.  He was so much apart of me, and I loved him so much it hurt.  I'm sitting here, trying to think of a way to describe that, but I really can't.

Many, many interesting posts coming up, if I do say so.  Love you all!

Spark of Life

I have no idea what to tell first.  Spark of Life was one of the most amazing things I have ever done in my life.  There is so much to tell, so much that I still need to process.

The retreat was held on this adorable ranch in Texas.  It was so beautiful, surrounded by ponds and grassy fields.  I never knew Texas was pretty!  The place we stayed was called Selah Ranch.  It was like a really big Bed and Breakfast.  Each room was decorated very uniquely, and it was such a homey, yet upscale environment.  Every detail of the place was well thought out and meaningful, from the art on the walls, the amazing meals, Tempurpedic mattresses, endless glasses of homemade iced tea, and huge gift baskets in our rooms.  There was a large flat screen TV in every room, but you would have hardly noticed it, nor would you ever need it.  There were cottages separate from the main house.  The place was surrounded by grassy fields, huge oak trees, and I counted 8 large ponds.  Every nook and cranny was decorated or had such thoughtful detail.  There were several gardens.  You could walk the property and find benches, tree swings, chairs, etc. all over the property.  They had plenty of golf carts that you could just head out with whenever you felt like it.  There was something so peaceful about riding that golf cart down the long, paved, tree lined road that led to and from Selah.

There were 17 participants, plus four group leaders.  We did a lot of time together as a group, learning and processing our losses.  I don't want to say too much about it because I want others to go and get just as much out of it as I did.  I will say that we were pampered to the point of disbelief.  We broke out into groups of three a lot during the weekend, and those were the people whose stories you really got to know.  Some people were there because of the death of a child, parent, friend, partner, or even a loss that did not include death.  We had homework each night, and it was so meaningful.  It was not faith based, but had a lot of spiritual components.  No discrimination, religious guilt, or self righteousness, even though one of the leaders is a pastor.  Anyone of any faith could attend this and find it to be so healing.  There were several components that they taught were necessary in order to get out of the "pit" of your grief.  I realized that I have been dealing with my dad's death in a really healthy way, but there were still things that I needed to deal with.  We all cried buckets throughout the weekend, and not just because of our own losses.  We really got to know the others that were there, and the losses they endured.  Such as baby Will, who died at two months old; Cowboy, who died at age 52 from a heart attack; or Max, who was killed in a car wreck two weeks before he started as a Freshman in college.  It was hard to see others going through such raw pain, but also so cathartic.  Everyone there just "got it".  There were so many things that did not have to be explained.

David, Debbie, Rusty, and Nancy were the leaders of the group.  David and Debbie started the organization a few years ago after losing their infant grandson.  One of the losses they worked through this retreat, though, was the loss associated to their son being sexually abused.  Their son is now an adult, but when David was a minister at a church in another state, his son was abused by someone in the church, and it occurred AT the church building.  They did not find out until years later, after their son confessed that he was struggling with his sexuality and thought he was a homosexual.  He got into therapy for the sexual abuse and worked through a lot of things, one of them being his sexuality.  After years of therapy he realized that he was not a homosexual, but had been made to feel that way since his abuser was a male, the abuse was pleasurable, and he did not try to stop it from happening.  The son later went on to get married, which he never thought he would do.  He and his wife were expecting a baby, but the baby died 7 minutes after he was born.  This caused many layers of grief, partially because the son and family never thought he would biologically have his own children.  To feel like they had come so far with their wounds from the sexual abuse, and then to have this child, the one they never thought would exist, be taken from them felt very unfair.  That's when they decided to celebrate his life by helping others cope with their losses, thus Spark of Life was born.

My family and I, as most everyone else there also indicated, gained so much meaning and healing from the weekend that I would dare call it profound.  I feel like I got to a better place with my relationship with my dad.  I think it was good for Mark to be given the space to grieve, too.  My dad was also very much his dad ("Pops"), and they were very close.  It was one of the greatest joys in my life, seeing my dad teach Mark how to love me better, and seeing them so eager and excited to spend time together.  My dad was so proud that I married Mark, and so proud to call him his son-in-law.  They are so much alike.  My dad would have loved it there.  He gradually became more "country" as the years went by.  I miss him so terribly much.

I am including the link for the Selah Ranch.  When you click on it, the picture on that page is of our room.  I am not kidding, I am totally suggesting that our friends come spend a long weekend with us there.  It is the perfect place for solitude, a family reunion, or any kind of retreat.  It is heaven on earth!  Especially in October, I bet!  They are still trying to decide if they will have the next retreat there or elsewhere.  I hope they keep it there because it was the perfect setting!

The awesome news is that the retreat is completely free for participants, which includes, meals, lodging, and everything included.  You just have to pay for your own transportation expenses.  They do a lot of fundraising to make sure each participant is able to attend without the financial burden they might normally bring with them.  So cool!

http://www.selahranch.com/room-promise.html

A Heart for Papa

Tomorrow morning, my mom, Hannah, Jonathan, David, Mark, and I are traveling to Texas for a Spark of Life Retreat.  I don't know much of what to expect but it is a retreat for individuals experiencing heavy grief for the loss of a loved one.  Is it weird that I'm excited about it?  When I heard it was at a ranch, I almost opted out.  I am a bit of a lodging snob.  When I looked at the website, though, it looked absolutely beautiful.  I think we have all been looking at this weekend as the pinnacle of our grieving process, like a prerequisite to healing.  It will be interesting, as my siblings and I are grieving very differently than our mom.

Today would have been my parent's 31st wedding anniversary.  It's so hard.  I took off most of the day today and have been a bit of a weeping willow.  For whatever reason, it fascinates Izaiah when I cry.  He was so sweet today.  During a crying intermission, he came over to me and formed his hands into a heart shape.  He said, "This is a heart for Papa because I miss him . . . I have been praying that God would let me give him this heart.  He needs a new heart, Mom.  Can't I give it to him?"  He went on and on about how much he misses Papa and how much Papa misses him.  He seemed crushed when he heard that we won't see Papa again until we get to heaven. I just bawled.  He may try to fool us, but he is very sensitive little guy.

Here is his heart.

He has been really scared that one of us or his grandparents will die.  He doesn't quite know how to process it.  I hate that he wasn't there for the Memorial Service or any part of that week following Dad's death.  I can tell he has no frame of reference to go off of.  He has not gotten to see other people's grief modeled for him, and he didn't get to be a part of anything that would have brought him some closure.  He is struggling with knowing how to feel about it.  Every now and then he asks a question out of the blue.  He has GREAT questions.

"Since Papa gets a new body, does he get a kid body?"

"Is Mama G still married to Papa?"  And when we tried to answer this ("uhhm, yeeessss....?") he said,

"But that's not okay because a kid is not supposed to be married to a grown up".  Extremely valid point, Izaiah.

I'm so glad that child is mine! :)

Eat More Chicken

This post has absolutely nothing to do with my opinion on homosexuality.  My opinion doesn't matter anyways.  But I do have an opinion on the whole Chik-fil-A controversy and it's very very simple.  I am always concerned with the social justice issues of today.  If someone is being unfairly treated, not okay.  If someone is being discriminated against, not okay.  If someone's American rights are being violated, I'm usually not okay with that either (not that I believe being American should grant you any more rights than anyone else in this world).

That being said, I can't tell you how many times I have jumped on a bandwagon to boycott something or someone because I don't think it is right.  Proctor and Gamble, Kobe Bryant, K-Mart, Wal-Mart, Samsung, Sony, Hooters, Westborough Baptist Church.  But I think there is a difference in boycotting something because a company financially supports a cause you don't like vs. the owner of the company having an opinion that you don't like.  If the CEO of Old Navy thought we should have public hangings, whatever.  But if the CEO of Old Navy used my money to actively pursue the act of public hangings, then I might have an issue.  I don't agree with most of my friends' opinions on everything.  I'm not sure that Mark and I even agree on all social justice issues.  I'm not going to divorce him for it, though.  That would be stupid.

Some points to consider:

1.  CEO Dan Cathy did not seek out the cause, nor did he organize a rally about his beliefs.  He gave an opinion when asked.

2.  He has not said anything out of hate (or if he has it has not been obvious to me) but out of his own religious beliefs.  Not that things can't be hateful if it's centered around religion, because they very much can. However,  I did not hear any "GOD HATES FAGS" anywhere in his statement.

3.  When anyone expresses support of gay marriage or homosexuality in general, those against that idea seem to always be labeled as spreading hate and discrimination.   So couldn't the same be said about those who are actively banning and starting stuff with Chick-fil-a?

They are spreading and perpetuating hate due to ONE MAN'S OPINION!  It just seems so ridiculous and silly.  Here's my boy, Antoine's, opinion on the issue:

I love him.  Here is my opinion that does not matter whatsoever, because people are too interested in arguing and being right and blaming blaming blaming.  (Sometimes I am that person and am the biggest hypocrite of all, just so you know).

Why can't we come together and not worry about opinions?  Worry about loving your neighbor who you do not agree with.  Even if you consider homosexuality to be a sin, so is lying, gossiping, and saying mean things.  No one ever converted anyone by winning an argument.  Plus, I can think of much bigger things to argue about.  Many of our electronics manufacturers in Mexico are part of a horrible organized crime that assist and at the very LEAST turn their heads at luring, abducting, and murdering young women from small Mexican villages so they can sell their organs on the Black Market.  Let's put some energy into that.  Or maybe into the fact that St. Louis is one of the cities with the largest population of human trafficking victims.  Just my opinion, but I find that to be a little bit more important than arguing over whom one should kiss.

Peace, Love, and Chocolate.

Grief and the Beautiful Cliches

All these cliche sayings are floating around in my head.

You're never ready to lose a parent.


Time will heal all wounds.


It will really start to hit once all the people go home.


I'll keep you in my prayers.


You will see him again.


I'm so sorry for your loss. 


Be strong!


He would have wanted you to keep going.


You need to get on with your life.


I keep reminding myself that even if people are saying the wrong things, they are trying to say the right thing.  Not all of these cliches are bad.  You could say a lot of things to me and it would not lessen the amount of raw pain I feel in this very moment.  I used to think, recently actually, that anyone around me could die, but if anything happened to my dad I would crumble.  Cease to function.  My dad has always held my heart, and in the past few years I actually started to somewhat pull away from him because I realized this.  This was literally my worst nightmare.  Obviously I would be devastated if any of my family died, especially my husband or kids, but it's different.  My dad was my rock, my saving grace in life for my entire life.  I KNEW he was the most amazing dad in the world, and I knew not to take it for granted.

Funny thing.  When we were little, my sister and I each thought Dad was Jesus.  Jesus was our Dad.  It just made sense.  We were taught how Jesus loved us more than anyone.  He was loving, caring, forgiving, compassionate, brave, humble, wise, strong, kind, giving, nonjudgmental, captivating.  This described our Dad as well, so it just made sense in our little girl, dreamy minds that the two were one and the same.  I kid you not, people.  My Dad was seriously that wonderful.  We all knew it, me and all my siblings.  We adored him.  It did not take his death for us to realize how lucky we were.  ("Blessed" is what he would say right now to correct me.)

So now here we are, and all it seems I am capable of is focusing every ounce of energy into trying to learn how to live in a world without him.  It's exhausting.  I'll think I'm getting close and then I pass a Burger King.  His favorite.  I pass someone on the road with a flat tire.  My dad was that guy that helped that person with the flat tire.  Gotta get gas, there's QuickTrip.  My dad was notorious for getting the million ounce mug from QT and filling it with Diet Coke each morning.  Well, until about 10 years ago because my mom convinced him that the whites of his eyes were turning yellow because of it.  To be fair, they were.

It just does not seem fair that so many of my friends have crappy, useless fathers who only leave them with gaping Daddy holes in their heart, yet it is my dad that leaves this earth so prematurely.  There does not seem to be logic to that.  Wouldn't God want to off all the idiot fathers and keep the really good ones?  I trust God with this, I really do.  In an odd way I love and trust God more for taking my dad early.  He never had to know a moment more of pain.  He no longer has to helplessly watch me and my siblings go through bad choices, hard situations, injustices, etc.  My Dad cared about each person regardless of their stupidities, me included.  He genuinely loved each person, and when he was talking to you, he was talking to YOU and not focusing on anyone else.  I'm not sure how he did that.  Are you starting to see why we thought he was Jesus? :)  My mom says his heart gave and gave until it had nothing left to give.  Now he gets to be in the most wonderful place, reunited with his brother, with Clyde, Parnell, and Craig.  No hurts, no politics, no physical pain EVER!  He deserved that, and he deserved to get it before everyone else.

Check out what I blogged about a few years ago: http://www.theadventuresofmarkandemma.blogspot.com/2008/08/ode-to-perfect-daddy.html

Thanks for reading :)

Today a five year old told me about how he tried to fake sick this morning so he didn't have to go to preschool.  He said he told his grandma he felt sick and she put a thermometer in his mouth.  She left the room and he put the thermometer against a light bulb until she came back in.  Funniest kid ever.  Where in the world do kids learn this stuff?!  I didn't learn the thermometer trick until I was a Sophomore in High School!

Other than that funny moment, my day has sucked.  I hope yours hasn't.

Confessions of a Broken Heart

I am struggling so much.  I'm exhausted.  I just know some of our friends and family are sick of me being stressed.  I am stressed when Izaiah is home, I am stressed when he's gone.  I'm too busy when he's home, but too busy when he's gone.  I'm sad that Dre is gone, and I still feel like I am too busy to do just about anything.  I either work from 8am-8pm or I work and go straight from there to the hospital to see Izaiah until 8pm.  Then I come home, eat, shower, pass out.  Weekends feel crazy busy, too.  We have great, wonderful friends who have been trying so hard to spend lots of time with us and keep us busy.  I appreciate that so much, I really really do.  But -


Disclaimer: Everything I am about to list are things that I love under normal (does that exist?) circumstances so please do not think I am a self centered brat.


This is how I'm feeling. I do not want to leave my house unless I feel like it in that particular moment.  I do not want to talk to anyone on the phone.  I do not want to go hang out with my friends at their houses or out somewhere.  I do not want to play "Counselor" or listen to someone talk incessantly about their kid.  I do not want people to laugh and joke and seem like they are having a great time.  I do not want to spend what little time I have to help with someone's issue.  I do not want to babysit anyone's kids.  I do not want my husband to help you with something during the only free time I have to spend with him.  I do not want my husband helping you at all right now, because we are having a hard enough time cleaning our house and raising our kids and paying our bills and working on our marriage.  


I have to fight off the intense guilt for saying that because it is not in my nature to NOT do those things. Mark is that way, too.  My siblings are that way.  My parents are that way.  When my mom was about my age, she had a series of nervous breakdowns and had to be hospitalized on and off.  She says the reason is because she was trying so hard to be perfect.  It's a little different for me than my mom because it's not perfection I'm trying to obtain.  My aim is more of wanting to help everyone, make everyone feel loved, and to love me in return.  If I don't feel like I am helping every person I talk to, I feel unsettled, awful, and guilty.  If I allow the focus to be off of others and onto me, I am usually uncomfortable.  I don't want to talk about me.  I want to talk about you. Yet here I am, feeling like I have nothing to give and all I want to do now is talk about my life for a moment.  Mark and I put everything into Dre and Izaiah and completely over-exhausted ourselves, more so due to Izaiah.  When Izaiah left, we should have stopped and used that time to force ourselves to rest, read books, exercise, take walks, catch up with friends, etc.  We did some of that, but mostly we just threw ourselves into other people's struggles, partially to completely distract ourselves from the throbbing silence at home.  So when my dad died, we were already stretched so thin.  Even with the boys being gone and my dad's death being two months ago, I have been even more exhausted just at the thought of hanging out with some friends for a chill game night.  I hate it.


I've been getting frustrated when people ask how I'm doing, because I don't feel like anyone really wants me to delve into an hour of tearful, depressing account of my life lately.  When they ask what they can do, I want to tell them that they cannot afford what I want to do, which is to sail away to Fiji or Crete and be alone with God in a beautiful, open, quiet bungalow for weeks and weeks.  If I could fall and hit a rock, have amnesia, and come home and be oblivious of all the hard stuff we've recently been through, I'd do it. If that is far-fetched, then I want to sit in my living room on my comfy couch, with my dog and my dad's favorite cologne-sprayed shirt, and just cry.  Cry and talk about my dad for hours and hours and everyone else be so sad.  This is what I want.  And Monopoly.  I want to play a silent game of Monopoly and completely  bankrupt the sucker who is brave enough to take me on.  Grief is so weird.


Despite the guilt, I don't want to go go go until I completely crash like my mom did.  I want to practice self care and not allow myself to go emotionally bankrupt.  I want to allow myself to go garage sailing and rummage through the Goodwill outlet for 5 hours.  I want to sit in my comfy living room and submit applications for free vacations and strategically figure out ways to make money using my coupons so we can pay off debt.  I need to read books on how to parent my children better. I am way behind on writing those thank-you cards that I have been mentally writing in my head for the past 7 weeks.  I want to sit and look at family photos all afternoon and listen to all my dad's favorite songs, which are naturally my favorite songs as well because I adored my dad and everything he did, said, ate, drank, listened to, laughed at...yada yada.  I have been spending almost my every waking moment trying to learn how to live in this world without my Dad.  This is probably what I will continue writing about for awhile. Everyone else's life is moving on and mine is not; I do not want to pretend it is. 


So if you feel like listening or talking about my dad with me in my living room, come on over.  If not that is fine.  Hopefully I will feel like coming out of hiding soon.  Thanks for reading.

Overdue Pictures

Being STILL with Gavin....this is rare, folks!

Who is really the weird one?

Jonathan has become more sappy as he ages. 

Relaxin' all cool 

So precious 

Dre's first visit to the Arch 

Grandpa's 86th Birthday! 

 These are some of the layers Izaiah wears in order to block out the sun during naptime in the car

 Dre is so funny....always using my phone to take his facebook pictures

I promise, she crawled in there of her own free will. 

 Dear cousin, Alyssa and Michael here for a visit

My boys 

Izaiah got caught mimicking Papa.  These two look up to no good! 

Izaiah sure does love his Papa! 

Christmas time!  I never can get a good picture of them together and SMILING. 

Dre thought it would be sooooooo easy to eat a 1lb burger.  Ask him about it. 

Mike and Dre heading to Dylan and Rebecka's wedding 

Holly and Asili 

She never stops smiling! 

Ezra's a Cardinals fan, too 

 

Last picture ever taken of my dad...just hours before he died.  Not sure who the guy in the background is, so  my story is that he's an angel.

Mom, Hannah, Jonathan, David, Cyndi, and me after Dad's Memorial Service.  How we are still managing to look happy and put together - no CLUE. 

Wearing Uncle Jon's football gear and playing Uncle David's keyboard 

Miss Thang 

Why not? 

He is so street

SAD

Blogging about my dad is something I know I have to do.  I don't particularly like it, but writing is cathartic for me, so no sense in fighting it.  I spent the first month after my dad died still in such shock.  I was just trying to get through each hour, each minute.  I kept myself extremely busy.  I took a day off work to grieve. Seriously.  How dumb, but I did it.  Absolutely no grieving occurred on that day and i was pissed!  I wanted to be able to schedule it so it didn't interfere with everything else.  When Izaiah left for the hospital, I felt like our world crumbled and I had no clue how to exist.  I had to put one foot in front of the other and refuse to think about it and refuse to talk about it.  When my dad died, a new pain began settling in which made Izaiah being gone seem like nothing.  Then when Dre left I thought I might just fall over dead from a broken heart.  I felt like I lost 3 of my 4 male loves (I love David and Jonathan too, just fyi).  Now I feel like I go back and forth between grieving one of the three throughout each day.  Mostly I'm grieving my dad, but then feel guilty that I'm not crying over Dre, so then guilt is added.  Once guilt is added about Dre, I begin to think of what a bad mom I am that both my boys are out of my home.  So this is the cycle that makes up my day.   

Recently I have become so SAD.  Not avoiding, not angry, not anything but pure sad.  I'm crying before I even know it and the tears don't stop.  This is new.  Anytime I cry, the tears stop eventually.  This time, though, I am slow to give in to tears because I know if I let myself cry I will not stop crying.  I feel like I have no sense of reality anymore.  I'm just in a cloudy reality.  I miss my boys.    

The Boys

I have promised to blog more but have so much to update that I don't really know where to start.  I guess this post will start with the boys.  With that out of the way, hopefully I will be more motivated to tackle the other stuff.  Okay.

Izaiah has been in a children's psychiatric hospital for almost 11 weeks now.  I struggle with sharing the "psychiatric" part of the name because I feel like so many harsh judgments come with that.  He began to get too strong for us, and even with Mark staying home during the day to be "on call" we were all so exhausted and unable to keep up with his special needs.  He got very violent at one point and the police had to be dispatched.

I am sharing this because it is real and because I believe in being genuine and humble.  It is my biggest prayer that God will take all of this craziness in our lives and with our family and completely flip it for His glory in the future.  In the meantime, I don't want to get accustomed to hiding behind secrets, even if it makes me feel vulnerable.

We could not keep Izaiah safe anymore.  He was too big, too smart, too strong, had too much endurance, etc.  We made one of the hardest decisions we have yet to make and admitted him to Hawthorne.  We have since been on an emotional roller coaster.  We get to see him two nights a week and on weekends for a few hours.  He has been very clingy, very emotional, very angry, apologetic, tough, brave, loving, hateful, kind, etc. all depending on the day.  It has been really hard to leave him each time.  We have family therapy with him each week and have made some pretty big process.  "Pretty big process", though, still seems like a tiny drop in the bucket.  The doctors have been weaning him off most of his medications, and now we are at the point of finding which ones need to be added and which ones are unnecessary.  Once a medication is added, we have to begin at a small dose and wait 2-4 weeks to see how it affects him.  They can then begin increasing the dosage very slowly.  If the medication does not work well with his body, we have to wean him off it and start over with a new medication.  The whole process has been so slow.  It has been crushing, watching other people parenting your child, and having to leave him day after day after day.  We are pressing on, though, because we want to get this all figured out in hopes that he will not have to be hospitalized again for a long time.

Normally Dre is the easy one, but as soon as Izaiah left he made a string of very bad choices.  His judge told him to straighten up or he would send him to a residential facility for the summer.  Dre said he wanted to move out anyway, so fast forward a few weeks and the judge ordered him to go to residential.  He has been there for 2 1/2 weeks.  He is so mad at us and says he will never come home.  I'm sure it is a very hard thing to be loved so unconditionally by an entire family after feeling so rejected by the first one.  He is self sabotaging and it is so sad.  Dre is, by nature, a good kid.  A genuinely good kid.  He has to work hard to get bad grades and to make bad choices.  Mark is having a really hard time with him being gone.  I am, as well, but am not as much of a basket case I thought I would be.  I see this as a time for Dre to understand what it is really like to be without us.  He thinks we are so strict and all up in his life, and of course he does - he's a teenager.  Please pray for him.  I'm trying to tough it out and not go visit him, as he requested.

While having the boys out of the house is maybe the best thing for right now, it is very difficult to be without them.  As parents, Mark and I feel so helpless and inadequate.  We are trying to trust God with it and not rely on medication and our own knowledge.  I feel contradictory, though, because we are relying on medication and trying all kinds of different parenting method.  It's like, at what point do you stop asking God for food and just go find a job?  I don't think there is anything wrong with being proactive like that, but we are trying to get in the habit of seeking God's wisdom first.  Please pray for us while we try to not be backseat drivers.