Treasures

Twenty years is a short time to collect memorable artifacts that mark milestones in your life. But in a small box in my dresser drawer are Joe's treasures. His class ring, Cum Laude cross, the pen knife for the Campbell Award; the second highest award given to a graduating McCallie man. Of course in the box were the St. Christopher's and St. Michael's medals given to him from a dear friend and family. And the special the Air Force wings Johnny gave Joe at his last Chapel talk. Each were carefully wrapped in tissue and tucked away. Several times a week Joe would ask me to pull them out and he would slowly peel away the tissue paper proudly holding each one.

Today, as we take our first step of sorting through Joe's belongings, I took his treasures to the Holt's shop to have them framed. The shadow box will sit proudly on a shelf among the many books he collected over the years. What was amazing is that I could hold his dearest possessions in one hand.

Familiar Faces

Familiar faces help us get through our grief. It is the friends that have known us for years, the ones you don't have to repeat the past or catch them up, and the ones who just know because they have been by your side. I call them them the comfortable shoe. And they are the ones we continually return to for support.

Mondays

Normally Monday is not my favorite day of the week. I don't know why but this Monday is different. Maybe because it is not raining and this morning was especially beautiful, or it could be my to do list was only one page. Was it that I finally slept through the night for the first time in years? Or was it our long discussion yesterday about the past four years and Joe's death, using a full box of Kleenex each to wipe our tears, the cause of my new Monday attitude?

Whatever the reason, and without over analyzing, I enjoyed this Monday.

The Regatta

As wonderful as it was to see Tony and David, the weather was horrendous. Rain, rain and more rain! My mom made the trip with us while we left my dad behind to nurse a cold. Again we forgot the binoculars, but our feet remained dry until David's boat went off in the midst of the last torrential downpour. His coach, with the up most graciousness, allowed David an early release so we could grab a quick dinner before we headed in different directions, giving us a precious time with our sons to catch up and sync our calendars.

A round trip from Charlotte to Oak Ridge in 24 hours gives you time to reflect. Images of driving Joe to McCallie, David's regattas and Tony's dive meets filled my head. I remembered his anticipation, wanting to be a normal teenager and be with his friends. Sometimes he was chatty, but the real routine was solemn quietness followed by a tearful trip home.

His Chapel talk in September 2009 was his final visit to McCallie and as we drove back to Charlotte, with seven oxygen tanks in my back seat, we discussed his funeral service as we both tried to be brave. And this I will never forget. I glanced over to my son, only able to breathe with the help of oxygen, squeezed his hand and promised he would never be alone.

Walking With My Pals

Tuesday and Thursday mornings I walk with my "Gal Pals". No attendance is required. Whoever is there walks, if you can't make it, we miss you and look forward to the next time. We all are dealing with hectic schedules, teenagers, college decisions and whatever life throws at you, so making a morning walk stressful is definitely needless.

I look forward to these walks every week, and though the concept is in it's infancy, this spoke in the wheel of my recovery gains importance at every step. It quite simply may save my sanity. Grieving is painfully draining, both physically and emotionally. There are days I just don't know how I will face one more hour of missing Joe.

But twice a week, with my "Gal Pals", we walk, talk, laugh, hug and for me this falls in to the column of what helps.

Back In Time

Today I delivered gifts donated by Blis, the uptown gift shop where I work, for the kids on the oncology and hematology floor at Levine's Children's Hospital.  I stepped back in time, only this visit was without Joe.  I was there alone, without my son and only carrying a bag of gifts.  I had never been to the"11th" floor without Joe.  The only time we visited his oncologist office alone was when he told us Joe was dying.

I saw his favorite nurses today, his oncologist and the visit was filled with hugs and questions of how we were doing.  It felt good to see the incredible people who took such great care of Joe.

So maybe, however gut wrenching and painful this visit was, going back in time may help us move forward.

With A Little Help From My Friends

This great lyric from a Beatles song, that has been used over and over for years, fits so many situations. For us the description encompasses everyone who gave and continually offer us your friendship asking nothing in return.

It is an email, letter, card, phone calls, invitations to dinners or events. You see the dark cloud pass over our faces responding with a gentle hand on our shoulder, a hug or a joking remark in effort to pull us back to life. Each gesture is given with love and understanding, never trying to explain how you know our feelings.

So everyday we a get by with a little help from our friends and family. Thank you.

That Thing Called Sarcasm

Over the past years we have been complimented on our courage, our humor. our resilience, but in truth we were camouflaging our feelings. It was our way of covering up, a great lesson we learned from Joe. The way of the game was not to let anyone in to our pain. So we would filter the news of every scan or doctor visit, not letting anyone know how bad it was. Protect yourself from the inevitable at all costs. We became pretty good players covering with our sarcastic humor and brave smiling faces until we couldn't any more. Joe kept playing the game while we silently stood on the sidelines dealing with the truth.

We drove to Chattanooga to be with Tony and David. This was the first time we said the words "Joe is dying", and in the deafening silence I searched for my sarcastic humor armor. We would all eventually suit up again, resume our humor, laugh as much as we could while hiding our true feelings behind closed doors.

It is just easier this way, so we will continue to play the game awhile longer.

I'm Not Losing My Mind

When driving to and from McCallie without the boys I always listen to NPR. Six hours of NPR can be daunting, but over the years I have found it to be very informative and when I travel alone it is like having company along for the ride.

During my latest trip, while listening to Fresh Air, I learned I am not losing my mind. Good gracious what a relief. Apparently, starting at the age of 30, we lose our focus and it has everything to do with the frontal cortex. The explanation became very medically detailed of course losing me along the way since I was not using my frontal cortex. The bottom line is we are not slipping into the darkness of dementia or Alzheimer's.

So we can relax. If you can't remember a person's name, or when landing at the bottom of the basement stairs you forgot the item you wanted to retrieve, or even recall what you had for breakfast, there is no need to worry. Now if I can only remember how they told me to engage your frontal cortex I could help you.

Talk About Memories

Tony had an outpatient procedure today and talk about bringing back memories! Ironically, no matter what state your in, the questions are the same as is the parade order of nurses and doctors repetitively confirming the procedure. Being "frequent flyers" in the OR we received quizzical looks during their explanations as we lackadaisically nodded our heads. I was more concerned about Tony's blood sugar. I know, by heart, the drill regarding everything else.

Tony came through beautifully, rested most of the day and we will watch the return of Glee tonight. A great way to end a long day.

Things Lost, Then Found

I thought about the saying I would give anything, or maybe lose everything, to relive a moment; or my case another day, an hour, even a minute with Joe.

Honestly, and selflessly, I want to keep everything and also have Joe. Our family has been strained. The laughter, that in the past came so easily, is forced and the bantering is less than entertaining. We tiptoe around our feelings always keeping the rawness of our grief in check. Trust me this is the showdown of all times of who will crack first and honestly it is usually me. We stumble through our transformation, holding on to each other for dear life.

But last night, with the help of a funny little game called Table Topics, we pulled card after card giving us an opportunity to talk, remember and laugh. It was a glimpse of what was and what will be. In a word, hope.

Goodbye, One More Time

We leave in the morning for Chattanooga, rendezvous with the boys in the afternoon and head off to the Nichols lake cabin, which they have graciously offered to us this weekend. I know our family will need this time away since Sunday morning we will be spreading part of Joe's ashes in Chattanooga.

So we will say goodbye to our dear Joe one more time.

Bring On The Classics

I am breaking up with my leggings. The passion is just simply gone and with spring upon us I feel the need to move on and back to the classics.

Nothing like a crisp white shirt, straight leg jeans, driving mocs and your favorite "CZ" diamond studs to make you feel fresh. From the back of my closet I am collecting my summer dresses, kitten heels, t-strap sandals and the straw handbag. Black, black and more black will not be my staple for the warmer months ahead. It is time to lighten up.

This morning I bid my leggings farewell, thanked them for the good times and confidently buttoned up my white shirt. I am giddy with anticipation and feel wrapped in the comfort of my classics.

A Night Out

Sometimes the best medicine is a night out.

Last night we saw Jersey Boys, and hopefully this won't reveal our ages, but the music propelled us back to a simpler time; before juggling careers, children and paying the bills. I could sing every word of Frankie Valli's songs and most of them reminded me of significant times in the past. Music has a funny way of doing that, you hear a song and suddenly you are reliving that moment.

It was two hours of fun and definitely what the doctor have would ordered.

Easter

I sat in the long pew with my family thinking about Easter and how this is the holiday of hope and renewal. But as the sermon began I was shaken to the raw core of my emotions. The Minister spoke of death, specifically of tragic deaths, the ones that leave us wondering and searching for an answer. My first response was why are you talking about this? And do you have any idea how you have moved me from my already shaky ground to a cliff where I am teetering on the ledge?

But the message twisted and turned to the point of understanding, that no matter the length of time, we are here for a purpose. Sitting beside Tony and David, so handsome, smart and on the brink of pursuing their future; I took time to recall our Easter Sundays in the past. I could see Joe's face as a child, his smile, bright eyes and the love he had for us and we for him.

I felt hope, sadness, joy and for the first time I remembered Joe before cancer.

Wishing you all the joy of Easter.

The List: Things I Dread

I have a top ten list of things I dread the most.

10. The yearly physical. I am always afraid my Doc will discover, despite my description of a healthy lifestyle, all the tests will reveal the opposite.

9. Taxes, they make me break out in a sweat and no organizational skills will ever relieve the last minute digging through drawers, files and even my wallet to find all the information I need.

8. Putting gas in the car. Could some one please come up with a car that just runs forever without having to stop?

7. Laundry is the most mundane task in the world. What is inspiring of taking items out of one tub and putting it in another? Then folding and putting it away--only to pull it out of a drawer and start the whole process again.

6. Cleaning bathrooms especially with boys in the house. Do I need to further explain this?

5. For now holidays are the worst.

4. Doing dishes and I thank every day Mike finds this therapeutic.

3. Hot weather, and I mean the oppressively southern hot climate.

2. Buying shoes, or should I say finding shoes that don't hurt my feet.

1. Saying goodbye to Tony and David, hugs and all, as they climb in the car to return to school.

Yes, that is my number one dread.