Resolutions

With the New Year approaching we tend to flip through the rolodex of familiar resolutions: lose weight, exercise more, give up the smokes, drink less and make more time for family and friends. All are well intended and some are even achieved by those who are committed to their resolutions.

This year I have a very different list. I want to laugh more and cry less. I want frequent memories of Joe from the months before instead of his last month. I want to lessen the gripping fear of losing Tony and David. Plan for the next phase of my life with Mike as we edge closer every year to retirement. Try to move forward, accept what our family has become while never forgetting those we have lost and the impacts they made. Make a "bucket list" and start checking it off.

These are not traditional resolutions. Some will be easier than others and I hope this list will guide me through a more peaceful new year. My wish is the same to our family and friends

If it Christmas Eve...

...then the Restaino's are trimming the tree. It is a long standing tradition dating back our first Christmas together in Des Moines, Iowa. Both working long hours the only time we had to buy our tree was Christmas Eve. Lacking ornaments and lights we tied ribbons on the scrawny branches. The tree was so short and tiny we towered over it as if we were giants. Even so, we stood back commenting on how beautiful it was.

Thirty-four years later we carry on the tradition. The tree is bigger and is covered with Joe, Tony and David's ornaments collected over the past twenty-two years. But the ribbons are still tied on every Christmas Eve and the tree stands proudly without lights. This is my most favorite of our family's traditions.

So on this Christmas I wish each one of you peace and a holiday full of family traditions.

Twenty-Two

Joe would have been twenty-two today. I still remember the day he was born. It was a record cold day in Dallas, Texas. Ironically the day he passed away was a record cold day in Charlotte, North Carolina. Funny how those are some of the thoughts that come to mind along with how much joy he brought to our lives.

I have often wondered if he would be applying for the PhD/MD program at Penn as he had planned or had taken another direction. Whatever his decision I know he would have been successful. He was just that kind of person.

So sweetie, Happy Birthday and in your memory we will celebrate together doing dinner and a movie.

We love you lots and miss you tons.

The Boys Are Home

You forget after months of eating dinner in the company of two how abbreviated that time becomes. It is not like when the boys are home when past dinner's would last an hour or more. Refreshing best describes dinner last night sitting around the table with my parents and the boys catching up on the last four months. What fun it was to listen to their stories from college, training trips and surviving a twenty-one hour trip home. (Yes, that would be David!)

I am forever grateful for Tony and David but I must confess I still look at the front door hoping Joe will appear. I know he is with us in our hearts and memories but selfishly I want him across the table from me one more time. To give us just one more opportunity to tell him how much we love him, how proud we are of him and of course catch him up with all the news.

Christmas Cards

They are arriving. So many have written passages of we are thinking of you, we remember Joe, he is not forgotten. This warms our hearts because we think of him every day and to know your memories of him have not faded means so much to our family.

Thank you for the cards and your messages. Every one is so appreciated.

A Month of Sundays

Tony and David will be home on December 18th. The next Sunday is Christmas followed a week later with New's Year Day. Then on to the second anniversary of Joe's passing away and tucked in between on a Wednesday is Joe's birthday.

I don't know if this will ever happen again that every important date will fall on a Sunday, but I will always remember our last days with Joe and how much we miss him everyday.

Church

Church is a strong institution and has intimidated me the past four years. I have attended only two services since Joe's recurrence of cancer. First for a Baptism which by the way I cried through the entire service. Trapped in the middle of a pew with tears streaming down my face I made a promise not to return until I felt ready. The second was for a friend's Induction. I was stronger and only cried through the hymns.

Several weeks ago I returned to St. Peters in Charlotte where we attended before Joe was diagnosed. Proud of myself not a tear was shed. I was home free. Then came Communion and I was doomed. Gene, who officiated Joe's service, was serving. I stood in front of him, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a strong, full of love hug. A welcome back, your are in my thoughts, you are loved hug. The tears started. And the tears appeared again the next week when Rodney who sings in the choir and took care of Joe broke out of line to sing the last two verses of the closing hymn with his arm around us.

Those who respected our distance always had us on their minds. The hug, the last two verses, the welcome back is just another step of us letting go of the our hopes of what will never be again.

The Dream

It is a recurring dream. One of reality and one of what would have been; the dream of Joe living, never of him dying. It revisits my memory every day, a haunting ghost, just around the corner, just over my shoulder, just close to my tears. But as we draw close to his birthday and then on to the anniversary of his death I remember his smile, his incredible intelligence, his sarcastic sense of humor. But most of all his devotion to his brothers, his family and his friends.

A Different Thanksgiving

The idea last year was we needed to take flight and not be home for Thanksgiving, but in the end we stayed home. Tony and David's birthday was that weekend and we all gathered around the table for a huge feast. But this year is a very different Thanksgiving not having the boys home for their birthday's or a turkey feast.

So what is one to do when traditions shift? Stay home and try to make it happen with fewer family members or step out and change it up? We choose the latter. Tony will be spending the day at the home of a friend and David, well Thanksgiving is really not a Scottish tradition, so he will do a makeshift celebration with his American friends. We will be in Charleston with rosemary to toss in the bay for Joe.

It seems scattered but in reality it is closer than ever. We keep in touch through emails, Skype and text messages. We are moving on to new territory, totally expected, but the four of us make sure we are always in contact.

And that is what I give thanks for this holiday.

The Tears

I sit on the Family Advisory Council at Levine Children's Hospital. I was making a presentation for our sub committee Healthy Choices which after a slow start we finally found our focus. We decided to find outlets to help families of chronically ill children, or as they are coined at LCH frequent flyers. Each member of this committee has had a child with cancer and one was a family of a burn victim. We know what it is like to be in the hospital for a year or more and then on to scans, reconstructive surgeries and long term therapy. We know while the focus on our children was covered completely, we were, as parents, lost on how to take care of ourselves.

So to get to my tears. During the presentation speaking about Music Therapy I lost it. I felt the flow of almost two years of tears held back in the name of bravery start. There was no way to stop the flood gates. I was raw, exposed and the armor had cracked. Replaying the meeting I was most likely not graceful. Another time in my life I would beat myself up for my for a less than stellar performance, but not this time. When your child is sick it spills over everyone and you cannot avoid the toxic wave.

In the end our recommendations fell on a friendly ear and most will be put in place to help future families at LCH.

Four Hours

I work at the Blumenthal Performing Arts Center as an usher and ironically it has been my best therapy. It is four hours of fun and an opportunity to be with people who don't know about Joe. It is my escape and I feel good at the end of every performance. Even with the stealth vomiter or the patron placed in the wrong seat or the ones who try to bring in a fourteen inch pizza I am happy when I leave. The house is filled with volunteers with one mission in mind: to make attending a theater performance a pleasant experience. They are wonderful.

To my friend, David, who pushed me towards this job and would not take no for an answer, I thank you.

Memories

Joan Didion's new book "Blue Skies" is about her daughter passing away. She wrote; "You have wonderful memories," people say to her, "as if memories were solace." Then going on to say "Memories are by definition of times past, things gone...Memories are what you no longer want to remember."

Yes, we have wonderful memories, but I wanted both the memories and the future. We were robbed of the most precious: the future.

The Season

We are entering the season of thanks and rejoice, but for our family it is the season of remembering Joe in his last months. By now he was on the upper level of our townhouse not able to navigate the stairs. He had his last pipe smoke and things were becoming a blur under the burden of intense pain medicines. He still had his sense of humor and he worked hard to find the right pen and journal for his brothers birthday. He held on to celebrate his birthday and join us for Christmas. But everything from this moment forward was painful for Joe.

I am and have been in awe of my son but never more than when I watched him face his own mortality. A mere nineteen years old and knowing your life was coming to an end is nothing short of brave. And for Tony and David to put aside their lives during these months is the definition of devotion.

The season of thanks and rejoice is one of celebrating our incredible family.

Chicago

A huge "mom" hug sufficient to embarrass Tony. Mission accomplished!

Those Phone Calls

The name comes up on my phone. It is not Tony, David or Mike. It is Frank, Josh, Steven, Michael, Chris or Matt. Names of Joe's friends. Checking in and checking up with each other. One is I will be in Charlotte can I stop by. One is about a letter of recommendation. One is I got a job. Some calls happen late at night and ends with a long dinner at our home. These conversations are our living connection with Joe.

I love phone calls from my family, but these rank a close second.

Wellness-less

Funny thing about focus, especially focus on a very sick child and then coping with their death, eventually you wake up and realize the size 6 jeans are stuffed in the back of your closet. What was normally easy becomes a strain on your joints, back and muscles. My wellness has suffered under the routine of sleeping in chairs, muscles so tight in my back there is chronic pain and the lack of sleep for too many years. My wellness is less than well.

So I am on the journey back to recapture my well being and live a better life. Dana will push me to become stronger and under the strong hands of Adrienne the 5 years of knots stock piled in my back will be relieved. After the first week I honestly thought two Aleve was the better answer. But I pushed on and will continue to do so and maybe, just maybe as my body gets stronger and my tension diminishes so will my heart ache.

Story Corps

For all the NPR followers you are familiar with Story Corps, which airs Friday mornings. Most of us catch it in the twilight of sleep, some of us are wide awake and listen during our morning routines. In most cases I listened to it just before rising for the last work day of the week.

This past summer Story Corps traveled to Levine Children's Hospital for a recording session and we were invited to put "down some tracks" about our family. We accepted and found it to be both rewarding and heart wrenching. But to our surprise several weeks ago our "administrator" blogged about us on the website. She wrote about parent's struggles as they watched their children suffer through painful illnesses, treatments and for many it was about the death of their child. She went on to reference one that touched her heart. It was about Joe and our family, the "infamous dinners" that only family and friends know of, and remembering our happiest moments. After an hour of tears, and laughter, we propped ourselves up for a picture, then a hug for each other and feeling good that our story will be archived in the Library of Congress.

Checking In

This weekend included a flurry of emails from David and phone calls with Tony. A bit of both were housekeeping conversations, but mostly it was conversations of events, diving, school, roommates, pier walks and general catching up on the news at home. They both sound happy and adjusting easily into college life. Tony's only complaint, and only slightly, are the eight dive practices a week, a bit different from high school.

All the news is good and I am feeling more relaxed.

Crossword Puzzles and Suduko

The funny thing about routines is that they conjure up memories. Like your breakfast routine growing up, we try to replicate them but it is never quite the same when on your own. Waffles and eggs always taste better from my mom than they do from me.

Which brings me to crossword puzzles and suduko which were always a part of our daily routines. I have been doing the crossword for years and Mike has been hooked on suduko and both became a part of our day when Joe was dying. Mike would work the suduko with Tony and David and when Joe returned home we started our day with my cup of coffee and the crossword puzzle. If it was a good day we would move on to the jumble. There has been an absence of crossword words and suduko numbers on that particular page for the past two years. Then last week I picked up the pencil and worked the crossword. And I cried.

Has It Been Two Years?

Agitation started to swell with in me this week. Everything was crosswise and out of place. I searched to find my source of unsteadiness and then I located it on my bookmark bar: Joe Restaino, September 30, 2009, the video of his chapel talk at McCallie. That was the last time we would be on campus until his service in the very same chapel in January 2010.

I always revisit his chapel talk in the fall but for some reason this year it crept up on me. Maybe because I was busy with the twins, maybe it is too painful or maybe it is hard to see him so frail and gasping for air. But I remember the trip to Chattanooga with our car filled with oxygen tanks, the pain he endured during the trip and his dad helping him dress in the morning. We arrived backstage at Mccallie and his tumor filled lungs were giving out. The cough started along with the sweats just as he saw his friends approach the chapel. I remember he asked me to defer them from coming backstage directing them to the chapel, he did not want them to see him struggle. He was going to be brave to the end. And he was brave and gracious and grateful we were all with him until the end.

Not Out of the Woods Yet

Just when I thought I was over losing Joe and sending Tony and David off to far corners of the world the letter arrives. Simply addressed to Mr. Joseph Michael Restaino from UPenn. In his absence of course I opened it and read that they, in the official term, had "withdrawn by decision" his active status. He had been absent for more than four semesters. It was another reminder of him being gone, not ever coming back and only our memories of Joe will keep him alive in our hearts.

No, we are not out of the woods just yet since mail like this keeps coming.

Seventeen and a Half Hours

You learn a lot about a person when you spend seventeen and a half hours together traveling and you are reminded of the endearing qualities that touch your heart. That was David and me making the long trip to St. Andrew's last weekend. I found out he likes Indian food, never really knew that, he doesn't use pencils anymore and much prefers pens; and that his public politeness is over the top. I learned he is a savvy traveler so I came home with a feeling of ease that he will navigate the UK and most of Europe without a hiccup.

I was reminded of how he softly chuckles when he watches a funny show, that he journals almost every night, he has scraps of papers with carefully written lines of something he is working on and that he worries about everything and everyone.

After such a long trip, and me trying to master the "other side of the road" driving, I will always remember his tall strong gait as he walked away to his dorm and his next four years.

And they are off...

Tonight the grill was going, my tomato sauce was bubbling and the spags were cooking. It was the last dinner together until December. The time flies by quickly and suddenly you are at the point of your children leaving for college. We will have one in Chicago, one in Scotland and they have figured out the best time to Skype is at 1 am Monday morning. So I will take a nap to be alert for the early morning chat because I don't want to miss one moment of them finding their way.

Tony and David good luck and may your dreams come true.

We love you,
Mom and Dad

September

This is a very special month for me and no it is not about Tony and David going off to college. It is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. I will remember those who have stood by as they watched their children battle this horrible decease that robs them of their childhood. I will pray for those who are currently facing the challenges of chemotherapy, central lines, infections, hair loss and the hope that the harsh chemicals will restore their lives. I will rejoice for those who have survived. I will cry for those who did not.

I will remember Joe.

Holden Beach

Holden Beach is where our family gathers every year since moving to Charlotte. The place we would be together before Joe headed back to McCallie and the boys would start school. And the year Joe was dying Holden Beach was where we spent the last summer together. It was the summer Joe wanted us to tell him about his childhood since the last round of chemo stripped him of his memories. It was the time we put him on the bus to Charleston to commence the first North Hutch Reunion. It is where his ashes were spread just a year ago.

The waves are big, thanks to two storms, and the rip tide is dangerous; but knowing Joe he would be riding those waves throwing caution to the wind. What did he have to lose except losing the experience.

Coffee, Speedos, Flu Shots

It was coffee with the mom's of our boys, then trying to find practice speedos for Tony and coordinating flu shots; which the latter fell by the wayside and will be picked up on the 12th or 13th. I worry daily that they have a warm coat, hat, scarf and gloves. But I worry most about David since he is overseas and getting anything to him constitutes an incredible feat. I worry that they both have enough money not to worry, that they will find their way home through all the connecting flights, that they will be safe and most importantly happy with their choice.

I worry because that is what a Mom does.

Empty Nesters

We will be truly empty nesters in less than thirty days. We have wondered about the days of flying solo. Not having to coordinate cars, or when will we ever have a dinner together, are your clothes clean and do we ever have enough food in the house. We are embarking on chicken breasts for two and a small salad. And four months from now I will be given the chance to embarrass my sons with the biggest bear hug known to motherhood.

So Skype is in place, I am warming up my thumbs to text message, my email account is razor sharp and hopefully there will be a response from the other end. But if there is not that is okay because no news is good news. And that means my boys are also flying solo.

Will Joe Know

I miss Joe every day. But I miss him so much more when it is time to send Tony and David off to school. This year it is off to college and not back to the comfortable shoe of McCallie. This is new territory. We have had to navigate UK Student Visas, pages and pages of athletic forms, finding a black suit, a tuxedo shirt, dress shoes, ordering athletic clothes for Tony, producing student Id's and in the end realizing boots were in order.

It sounds like a whirlwind, and it is, but I miss Joe because it reminds me of sending him off to Penn. How he said I have everything I need, how I knew he needed more and how we saw him at Penn State for a water polo tournament and then he said I am cold. And how we shopped for his Northface, and the Greens bought him the hat and gloves, and we wrapped him in the warmth of thermal shirts.

I wanted Joe to see his brothers off, give them advice and tell them what to expect. That was my dream but the reality is different.

Joe and Joey

Joe never left his room on the 7th tower the first go around and it was impossible to ask him to leave his room the second time. But there was a young boy at the end of the hall called Joey. He was diagnosed with neuroblastoma and for some reason Joe wanted to meet him. They found out their names were the same "Joseph Michael". They discovered they shared love of cartoons and Joey was the only patient Joe ever visited. We have recently learned Joey has relapsed for the third time. Joe would have been upset now as he was when he knew about the second relapse.

Cancer patients are a funny lot, they find a friend, a confidant, an advocate; all in the name of surviving, all in the name of being normal. But in most cases it is about connecting with the kid down the hall.

It Just Hit Me....

Transferring college funds, applying for a UK Visa, completing twelve pages of student athlete health forms, looking for boots and coats on line: It just hit me Tony and David will be gone in the fall. We will not have the comfort of McCallie. It will be Christmas before I lay my eyes on these two amazing boys. And this house will be very quiet. Even though my boys went to boarding school, we are entering the phase of empty nesters. We will not be making the six hour trek to McCallie every couple of weeks, we may never know their friends as well as we did in high school, or the parents. But they will be off and starting their future with the best foundation we could offer.

And if Joe was here he would offer a few cryptic words of advice, a hug, a "see you soon" and then a glance over his shoulder as he always did for his brothers. Just one more look before they would disappear around the corner. He would be so proud of them. We are so proud of them.

Joedance 2011

If it is the first weekend in August then it is the Joedance Film Festival at the 10th Street Townhouses. It takes most of us to pull it together. Dave Park does the DVD/sound system, we do the hot dogs, Mollie does the popcorn. Every movie is screened and reviewed by us and then Julie Marr miraculously produces a spectacular flyer announcing the movies.

And you all came rain or shine. The first night was in our house and the second night was outside under a very cloudy night and unbearable humidity. But you came to raise money for The Rare and Complex Cancer Fund, which needs funds so desperately. We were dealt the hand of cards of osteosarcoma with Joe, a rare cancer, hard to survive and has very little funds for research. We appreciate every dollar donated to this cause. And over the years a less severe way to treat osteosarcoma may be available. And maybe there will be one less mom sitting in a parking lot as I did trying to figure out how to save their son's life. That is my hope.

Minneapolis

There is a time in everyone's life when everything is working on all cylinders. Your family, your career, your friends, your hair, your shoes (ok that is for us girls) are perfectly aligned. Before our boys came along, which was our second perfect cylinder phase, that was Minneapolis. We were young and just starting our careers with all the energy that comes with young thirty somethings. No downturn in the economy phased us since we had our whole life ahead of us.

Fast forward to a reunion in Minneapolis this weekend with two different agencies where I had worked. Interesting that many of them created and recreated themselves over the past years. Finding ways to stay employed in a business that almost always cuts back in hard economic times. Even with them finding their way outside the stiffness of the corporate world their creativity was never lacking. I found myself, as I do with my friend Julie; who by the way has more creative thoughts in her baby finger than anyone I know; in refreshing climate. There is just something about these advertising folk. Nothing much gets them down, and even if it does you would never know because they are always working on the next big idea. Simply put that is what I love about them and thank you for having me in your world for I was just a less than creative media buyer.

Far East, Alaska and Charlotte

Mike is in the Far East, Tony and David are visiting a friend in Alaska and I am in Charlotte. This is a peek into our future. We are texting, calling about the "important stuff" and emailing. Three years ago one was away at college, two were at home and our family still seemed to be grounded. Now with everyone scattered this week I feel the urge to keep in touch more than ever.

So what used to be the gathering around the table for dinner has become short snippets of text messages, emails and of course there will always be that occasional "panic" phone call when someone forgot to do this or that. What is important is that we keep in touch daily. A picture posted on Facebook, a text, an email, a call and then a visit that becomes seamless because we made the effort everyday.

My Mind is Spinning

Another trip in one day to McCallie to attend a memorial service for Joe's friend. We sat in the back, keeping an escape route close at hand, keeping our heads down and trying hard to keep ourselves together. Then Gus's Mom approached the podium to speak, her voice cracked and I was snapped back to January 2010. I wanted to sprint from the back of the chapel and hold her tight, hold her up, give her support to finish the words that were so important to her. I held my breath through each tearful word saying in my head "finish because it is so important." Georgia finished with grace and just the right words that only a mom could say.

Dinner

Was it a blessing, or was it time to laugh and talk. Whatever the circumstance tonight our dinner was a throw back to when we would all gather around the table and just talk. Tony laughed so hard he fell out of his chair and David held his sides while I watched Mike do his usual lean back in his chair laugh. We poked fun at ourselves and others, we coined new phrases because we stumbled over our words. It was a Restaino dinner, lasting more than two hours, discussing this and that, laughing and throwing in some tears here and there. We were given another chance express how precious our boys are to us, how proud we are of them, how to take care of each other and how to be in the moment.

So 10:30 p.m. and finally the dishes are done and we are off to sleep. That is the way it used to be and I am grateful for this special night.

My Sorrow

I don't know how to convey my sorrow to a family who has lost their son. The card is on the desk, and all I can think of writing is "I am so sorry, just so, so sorry and you are in our thoughts." Is that enough, is it too much, is it pretentious for us to feel their grief. I have learned everyones path is different, each one has their own special of way dealing loss and pain. Anger, the hollow feeling in your stomach in the morning, the shaking voice when asked how many children you have. Do you leave that one out for convenience of not having to explain. Do you then spend years of forgetting yet years of remembering in private? Do I silently wish to see Joe walk through the door? No doubt that is my wish.

One Old, One Young

I heard of two deaths this week, one of an elderly woman I knew in book club and one of a classmate of Joe's; just a mere 21 years old. Both, in different ways, took me to my knees. It was Joyce struggling in the last years of her life, and Gus having his life cut short. Either way there was a knot in my gut, the one I felt when Joe passed away, the wrenching feeling when I knew there was nothing more that could be done.

I don't know which is worse: being by their side when they die or never having the opportunity to say good bye. Either way there will always be a hole in your heart and ribbons of memories that play constantly in your mind.

I hope for peace to both families.

Fun

A dear friend of mine, while we were walking, asked when was the last time you had fun. I thought this was an odd question since she knew what we have been through these past years. We walked and I started to think when was my last fun. It will surprise you that the best times were the last four years.

It was not the trip to Williamsburg, or to the beach, or to New York with Joe, or to Europe. It was the last four months of Joe's life. We laughed, we hugged, we read and we spent time on our bed just talking. We took care of each other. Those were happy times, and sad times; but it was embracing each other, loving each other and finding the strength to go forward.

What A Tuxedo!?

David casually mentioned he needed a tuxedo, and maybe a suit along with his blazer and dress pants for Saint Andrews. I sat back in my chair as reality of attending a Scottish University sunk into my brain. My question was why? Well, as David plodded on, you know we have three formals a year, then I added what if you are invited to a dinner and you need a suit. And then there is just the dress causal occasion for the blazer and dress pants. Let us not forget the all purpose rain jacket and the "Wellies" for the nonstop rain. Right behind that will be the "country clothes" and the riding boots.

No matter, it is a new culture, new experiences and an incredible opportunity. That is my new mantra.

Cross Roads

I am at the corner of pain and hope. When you chose the road of pain your heart freezes in time or you can choose the road that moves you forward. I am choosing hope. As a sitting member on the Family Advisory Council I have witnessed changes at Levine Children's Hospital that will make kids stays easier and less painful. I am working on a project that will help parents cope better with the stress of seeing their children suffer. I have put myself in a place of greeting patrons at the Belk Theater so they can enjoy the evening. I look for activities that I enjoy; friends, family, a walk or a book.

Optimally you have two choices with tragedy, the high road or the low road. I am choosing the high road. The road of hope in my son's memory.

Tony And David's Fathers Day

One worked, one went to class; both were gone all day. So now they are picking their Dad up from a volunteer gig he had, getting him a milk shake and giving them their cards. It is their perfect Father's
Day.

Father's Day

I gave my Dad a card today that stated on the cover "Thank you for your patience" and on the inside it went on to say and more patience, and more patience and even more patience. That was my Dad always the "Steady Eddy" when us girls were whirling out of control. He was the one who patiently sailed with me while I was learning, never yelling only doing his famous finger point signaling you are on the wrong tact, or sitting back when everything was shipshape. He has been my sounding board for so many years, my political outlet for discussions, my stockbroker and the weaver of tales from the past.

But today he was my Dad who said his infamous prayer blessing everyone in the world and those who were seated at his table. Happy Father's Day Dad and I look forward to as many more as possible.

Date Night

Ah yes "Date Night", something Mike and I have not done for a very long time. But tonight we did and it was wonderful. We had a delectable dinner and leisurely walked to the theatre. We lingered at the restaurant talking about everything, you know all of those things you never have a chance to discuss at home with the hustle and bustle. Then we moved on to the play at the Belk Theater. And now home with our boys we are reminded of why "Date Nights" are far and few between. But when you have one savor every minute.

A Bit of This, A Bit of That

You know when you are down in the dumps a bit of this and bit of that helps you through. Well, today it was all about those bits. It was an invitation for a reunion of a past advertising agency I worked for, it was online chats with nurses that took such good care of Joe, a chat with a friend who for some odd reason we prop each other up, and then a long time friend who I will reconnect with after 18 years.

The bit of this and the bit of that adds up to a grand total.

Is This Cancer Month?

The two magazines I subscribe to, Time and Runners World were filled with nothing but articles on cancer. First there was Dr. Oz bigger than life on the cover of Time, and since I don't watch his show I was completely unaware he had a scare. The cover of Runners World was all about running while having, recovering or being in treatment with cancer. Ok, I have to admit it was in my face and while many of the stories were exceptional it is not always the reality.

I leafed through the pages and only one article caught my eye. It was in Time and titled Scanxiety. It was real, it was poignant, it was scary and in this author's life a gift of another three months. While reading it the same feelings of my heart pounding, the unspoken words leading up to "the day", the drive to the fifteen minute chest x-ray that would determine our next move was just plain horrible. We would hold our breath waiting to know if we could exhale until the next one or have the wind knocked out of us.

Scanxiety is part of the lives of every cancer patient, no matter how many months or years they are out of treatment. "The Day" is never far from their minds.

5 a.m.

For some odd reason we were all awake at 5 a.m. this morning. I led the way wanting a glass of water, then I heard footsteps on the stairs and it was David. Not far behind was Tony followed by Mike. For thirty minutes we laughed and watched Tony eat, and then eat some more. We poked fun at each other, and then as swiftly as we awoke and collected in our kitchen we were gone retreating to our beds for a few more hours of sleep. It was a wonderful meeting around our table and reminded me our late nights in the past.

White Pants

I poked fun of white pants and navy blazers for graduation since the day Joe stepped on the campus of McCallie. I remember Mary Kay and I would comment on "we need to get those darn white pants". In Joe's case it was a determined quest to have him wear the white pants.

We as parents jump at the chance to buy them cheap since we knew most of the boys will never wear them again. Well, maybe if you go on to Ole Miss you would wear them again. But I knew my sons would only wear them at gun point or to save another person's life.

But seriously, as much fun as it is to poke at these virgin white pants, when the boys of McCallie walk into graduation it is spectacular. It is a crossing point, a bridge from being boys to men, an induction to the long blue line; however they want to be a part of that tradition. And then at the reception what bugged them was stripped away and what was endearing was apparent as they hugged each other, posed for pictures and finally said goodbye to "The Ridge".

Navy blazers, McCallie ties and white pants were worth the effort.

Movies

We snuggled into the oversized comfortable chairs at the EpiCenter Theater waiting for some comic relief from The Hangover II. Which ended up not being as funny as the first, but none the lest we were there after a lovely dinner at Basil. It was one of those evenings that nothing was rushed. There was enough time for dinner and a slow stroll to the show. We were feeling relaxed.

Until the trailers. The preview of 50/50 was in our face. A guy who had to face brain cancer, no not a good cancer, and then came the scene where he shaved his head for chemo. The theater was suddenly cold, and those around us laughing sent chills down my spine. Yes, it has been presented on the trailers as a comedy, a dark comedy, but to us it was reality. I remember the first and second time we shaved Joe's head. And yes, there are times you dig deep to find humor to survive because sometimes that is the only way you can make it through the day. As the trailer went on the laughing and joking subsided as real human choices were presented. The theater was quiet.

Seven Years

The tears spilled down my cheeks and I was sure they were not noticeable to the faculty on stage. It was Baccalaureate at McCallie. I saw the podium where Joe gave his first and last chapel talk, and where Tony exposed his ability to be himself, and David challenged his classmates to accept failure. I raised my eyes to forever memorize the faces of the faculty and staff who made Joe's graduation possible and covered Tony and David in a blanket of comfort. Our connection to this school is different. Our years were filled with hope, then devastating news, then hope again.

It was a Baccalaureate for Tony and David without Joe. It was a graduation without Joe. It was a weekend of joy and heartbreak. One of putting rosemary on Joe's ashes, one of white pants and navy blazers and missing Joe.

Graduation

I was organized. Planned ahead. All appropriate clothing was laid out in military fashion to expedite the packing of navy blazers, charcoal dress pants with dark socks, white pants with light socks. Suits and dresses were lined up by time and day. Control was the business of the day and weekend. I packed the car, picked up my parents on time and swooped Mike in the car from work. We were on our way to Graduation. We arrived, with a few mishaps on the way but nothing we could not over come, in time to have dinner with Tony and David. The conversation was lively and we turned in early knowing the planned activities would make for a long weekend.

I laid my head on the pillow with ease knowing every i was dotted and every t was crossed. I relaxed. Then it happened the next morning. A little thing called water.

As we were getting ready, I turned the water on in the sink, left the bathroom to retrieve some item I felt was important, turned the corner to the bathroom only to realize the slickness of the water covering the floor. Legs slipping out from underneath me I slid across the tile floor and by the power of my right arm I stopped my motion with a slam in to the toilet.

My perfect planning was destroyed, and only having sleeveless dresses I attended Graduation with a large bruise on my upper right arm. Could have been worse so I will take the bruise as a stroke of luck.

Endings and Beginnings

I have been unpacking Tony and David's belongings from McCallie in stages. The first wave came home at Easter, another load was picked up at the Dogwoood Regatta in Oak Ridge and the last was transferred this morning at Indian Beach. All of the duffle bags have been unpacked and the odds and ends left behind will be loaded this weekend at McCallie. The end of four years will be carefully washed and stored away.

So the beginnings are on the horizon. We spent two days with Tony and David's friends at the beach. They talked about the past and talked about their futures. How they know for a fact they will not see Tony for twelve years as he goes for his medical degree or David because he will be traveling the world with his small duffle bag. Each comment was given wistfully, in a way can we go back and re-do these past four years at McCallie. And then a plan was set in place for a reunion next year, something they could hold on to until the next time.

These boys, now men of McCallie hold on tight to each other and no matter how far the distance it is a bond forever. I witnessed that with Joe and I see it with Tony and David.

Picking Up The Pieces

The fog has lifted and the harsh reality of our son never being here falls hard on our hearts. Tempers flare, what was once funny is irritating, the hugs are forced since we all want to be left alone in our own private mourning. Rejoicing accomplishments is always tempered by the absence of Joe. The phone calls from two brothers to their oldest brother about their decisions did not happen.

But what happened long before Joe passed away were their late night conversations. His advice was simple. Follow your dreams, shoot for the best and never look back. Joe you would be proud of Tony and David.

International Affairs

Tony is following the regular American processes for admissions for the University of Chicago. Deposits have been made, requests for housing are done and now it is on to the physical. All wrapped up in a neat package.

David however, until today, was lost. After an email or two we found out there is no deposit required to secure his place, only the first semester tuition. He is able to apply for a student visa even though his passport expires in 1/2012. They will simply ask what passport number he would like to use mid June. He was secured with a University of Saint Andrews ID today by email. His acceptance letter was by email, no he never received a hard copy.

But the what is amazing is every email we receive, no matter who is working in the admissions office, always starts with "Dear Diane" or "Dear David" followed by "Best" or "Best Regards". We Americans, always on the fast track, just start our message and most times don't even sign our names. So maybe a cup of tea is order and make it a habit to address our messages with "Dear" and sign off with "Best".

May

This is a big month. Another Mother's Day, which will be more painful than last year. The fog has been replaced with the reality of Joe being gone, which has settled deep in my heart. And in three weeks Tony and David graduate. We all say where has the time gone but I know where the time went. For four years we were focused on Joe and then it was the spring of their Junior year with the college machine running at full speed. We missed most of Tony and David's middle and high school years.

Tony and David's matriculation will be a celebration as opposed to the sheer miracle that Joe was able to attend his graduation after fighting low blood counts for a week. So after seven years we will bid farewell to McCallie and the extraordinary people who shared their love and support. Yes, we will miss them all. It may be the last opportunity to place rosemary where Joe's ashes are spread, it will be the uneasy feeling of him not being part of the celebration.

But we will feel his joy and pride for his brothers. No doubt his spirit will be with us on that day.

Golf

Golf is a funny game that tests your patience and focus. Both are important components of the game. But today during the Pro-Am at Quail Hollow I had neither. My mind wandered back to when we played golf with the boys while we lived on the 8th hole of Fox Den Country Club in Knoxville.

We would walk out our door, just start playing and laugh a lot. It was a time with no television, no phones and no computers. Out in the sunshine walking with our clubs on our backs. A time where a spectacular drive was appreciated, a duff drew sarcastic commentary and a good putt was justified with a high five. It was just plain and simple fun.

Tightrope

The tension of a tightrope is tricky. Not too much, not too little but just enough to hold your weight to make it perfect. We walk that everyday in our lives and our jobs. For two eighteen year old boys to place their feet in the right place is incredible. For the same two boys to walk the tightrope without a misplaced step after they watched their brother die is extraordinary.

The agony is over....

We are done, the decisions have been made and plans for the fall are in motion. Tony will head to the University of Chicago and David is going "across the pond" to University of Saint Andrews in Scotland. We could not be more thrilled and proud of them.

Janice Kim

This is not a name familiar outside of our family's circle, meaning Mike and myself. Janice is a long time business associate and friend of Mike's, and although I had never met her until tonight I remember him talking of her. Janice is from Korea and was living there during Joe's last months. She emailed several times always extending her prayers and comfort over the thousands of miles that separated us. Tonight I met Janice Kim. We talked about our sons, she talked about my blog.

When writing on the Caring Bridge site I naively thought I was writing to keep family and friends up to date, little did I know how far reaching those posts went. Janice explained how she would read them and than pass them on to her friends. On a trip to Ireland I realized the Robbie and Susie Lyons relatives read it everyday. I received emails and posts from readers all over the country and Charlotte. Again it was someone who knew us and passed it on to their family and friends.

I was amazed by the following, I am still overwhelmed by all you who still check in and read. The comfort of knowing you were there quietly holding our hands until the end of Joe's life and continue to hold us in your hearts is extraordinary.

When You Least Expect It

A year and four months since Joe passed away and we thought questions about Joe would be over. But today a poor soul at the other end of the phone diligently worked to update our car insurance and asked an innocent question. Does Joseph Michael Restaino drive your cars? There was silence on my end of the cell phone. I choked, I coughed, I rearranged myself at my desk. I must have taken too long to do all those things since in the hollow of my brain I heard a distant voice again inquiring about Joseph Michael Restaino. I said no he does not. He asked again if we wanted to add him to our insurance. I skirted the question saying he does not drive. He pressed and I gave in finally saying he passed away.

This young man, whose charge is to follow up on insured clients, spoke softly saying I will make sure we will never inquire about Joseph Michael Restaino.

Do Over's

Mike and I talk about do over's, what we would have changed while making our decisions in our younger years. Would we have pursued a life less complicated than the corporate world; would we have a farm and live off the land or dedicate our lives to service projects? The funny thing is you can't go back only forward, and in the twilight of our working lives we have the ability to revisit our dreams of yesteryear. Who knows where those dreams will take us.

Our sons are never a part of our do over's conversations. I, nor Mike would have a "do over" with them. They have been our pride and joy, our heartache, our touchstones, our lives.

Opportunity

Special opportunities come our way sparingly. When they are presented you feel it in your gut, the need to grasp and hold on, some of the others question your judgement. But tonight as I write this blog David took hold and owned an opportunity. His Writing Center teacher at McCallie is doing a reading from her published book and wanted one of the students to introduce her. David, my behind the scenes child stepped forward, did a ninja hold on any other person that volunteered, and fought for the opportunity. Tonight he introduced Erin Tocknell, the author of "Confederate Streets". By the way you should pick it up it's a good read.

Grateful

Yes, grateful is what I feel even after so much heartache. I look at Tony and David and am amazed how they rose above the tragedy of loosing Joe. The aftermath could have gone so many different directions but it did not. This small piece of our recovery has been a blessing.

In four months Tony and David will head off to a college where Joe can be a part of their history or not, they will be finally in control of the stream of information. They can choose to share or choose not to share. They can be themselves and explore their opportunities, the love of their studies and the coming of age in the college environment.

Yes, I am grateful and count my blessings every day.

Coming to the End

A friend emailed today inquiring randomly "can we have a do over, have their high school years back, have Joe back?" I think we all want that in some form or another as we replay our histories. The inevitable would of's, could of's, should of's replays in our brains.

I am of the belief things happen for a reason. Sometimes you don't like the outcome, but it is placed at your feet and is the underpinnings of your next decision. It may point you in a direction you would have never given less than fleeting moment of thought or it may change your life. Whatever the circumstances every milestone in our lives in turn points us to new and different decisions.

It is Business

The business of being accepted to college is one thing, the business of navigating financial aid requires an accountant's degree. I have filled out more financial aid forms than I want to talk about, spent hours on the phone with colleges, and now have done appeals, reactions and I am close to begging on my knees for help.

The sad and sorry tale of this is black and white. If you are rich any school is no problem. If you are poor again no school is a problem. But if you are stuck in the so called "middle class" you better anti up, and big time. And it is breaking our backs. So please all that us middle classer's want, long for, hope for, is a break for our children that have worked so hard.

Let Go, Say Goodbye

The fine line of letting go and saying goodbye until the next time is always blurred. We let go in a sense when our boys went to McCallie and then said goodbye in the most final way with Joe. But I hold on to Tony and David, probably to the point of uneasiness, but they always humor my tight grip. Maybe it is my sense of losing them to some unforeseen tragedy is always in the back of my mind. What is not to blame since we have buried two children.

A year and half after losing Joe I try hard not to lose Tony and David. That means letting go and saying goodbye until the next time, taking a step or two back that eventually brings them closer to us. What they don't know is that everyday I want to hug them forever.

There is a Reason

Our children's most important decisions of their lives have taken a year. Yes, it is the college decision. Four months ago Tony stood boldly in front of us saying he would take on one hundred thousand dollars in loans to go to his first choice, which now ironically is now at the bottom of his list. David quietly suffered waiting for his decisions from his top choices while putting himself on the line for four reach schools. It is a time of finding their worth, what and how they will contribute, where they will land in the new global world.

The reason it takes a year is because most of the serious decisions take that long.

You Like Me, You Like Me Not

College decisions are rolling in and it reminds me of picking the petals off a daisy. You like me, you like me not and then the colleges that have accepted you sit back and wait for the students pick the same petals. I have often wondered after my second pass at this how an incredibly difficult school to be accepted takes you and what you thought would be a safety school denies you, or wait lists you. I am for one confused, not angry, but confused.

Some times these decisions are devastating. Most of them will roll off their backs and some will change their lives. But in the end they will land in the best place and the stress of getting there will be forgotten.

The Last Spring Break

Our boys rolled in separately. One was retrieved from Asheville, the other drove home on Saturday. And so this will be our lives going forward, one here one not. The comfort of the every six week visit is fading and we know the visits will be farther apart.

But today at the Midnight Diner it was life as we knew it. Laughing so hard about this or that, looking to the future, talking about their dreams and then laughing again. I always hate to see the car drive away but with greater anticipation I look for the car parked underneath our deck. That means our boys are home.

Your Favorite Meal

During dinner with friends this past Saturday Josh's mom leaned over to Tony and David asking them what is your favorite meal your mom cooks? Tony readily admitted chicken and rice casserole, David taking his time, and letting me squirm, answered just about anything. On the drive home I thought about my favorite meal my mom cooked. Definitely chicken with snow peas with the best ever gelatin dessert topped with mandarin oranges to complete the feast.

Funny how food evokes memories. Like the seven fishes dinner on Christmas Eve, the dressing that accompanies the turkey at Thanksgiving, the leg of lamb at Easter. For me the dinner that starts a flood of memories is my homemade tomato sauce, pasta and steak. It was Joe's favorite, not necessarily ours, but one he asked for every trip home. I have not made it recently. Maybe the memories are too sensitive now, or maybe I cook different meals as a coping skill of moving past his death. Maybe I don't have the strength to revisit those times when he would dip his bread in the sauce while I was cooking and eat with his fingers from the salad bowl waiting for his heaping portion.

Someday the sauce pan will be retrieved, the tomatoes will be sliced and peppered with seasonings while the pasta simmers and the steaks broil. But for now I will put that meal on the shelf.

Love My Boys, But....

I love my boys with all of my heart, would go to the ends of the earth for them, but can we talk about their quirks that drive me crazy. David leaves everything to the last minute to the point of total frustration. Tony is oblivious to his surroundings and any other person's feelings. Joe's stubbornness diluted us to sheer guttural screaming.

But for some odd reason I only remember the times we laughed so hard at dinner we fell out of our chairs. I remember the road trips, the swim meets, the dive meets, the gymnastic meets, the regattas. I remember the late night talks of what they were sure of and their doubts. I remember the decisions about high school and college. I remember Tony and David crawling in bed with Joe to watch an episode of something on HULU. I remember the cold days, the sunny days, the dark days. I remember tears rolling down our cheeks and then the joy of passing on a son and brother's memory with a scholarship. I remember Joe, Tony and David's Chapel talks and how proud I was to be sitting in the front row.

Yes, our children test us to the limit, push us to the edge, question the "what if's" but they are ours to keep close and love to the end.

Coming Home

I remember as the years went on for Joe at McCallie coming home for him was different his freshman year than the year after and the next one. Each year we saw an advance in his maturity, taking ownership and breaking away; feeling the confidence in his ability. I saw that this weekend with Tony and David as they took care of getting home, finalizing their summer plans and looking forward to college decisions.

One of the underlying emotions boarding parents fail to realize is by this time they have sunk or swum. The next round of college visits are nothing more than an extension of boarding school visits and hopefully with a bit less edginess of an eight grader.

We sent our boys off to a world we were not savvy to, often stumbled with our overprotectiveness, and more times that I want to admit called far too many times. Maybe they would be the same or different if they stayed home. Maybe our family would have been different. I don't know the answer except I will never second guess our connection to McCallie.

I do know we are grateful to have our boys home and wish Joe could be with us.

The Last Chapel Talk

We burned up the road, and the gas, to Chattanooga for David's Chapel talk. Our last chapel talk of our three boys. Many have talked about Joe's and have viewed it on every social media sight, the McCallie boys related to Tony's and his quirky humor punching fun at himself, but the boys hung on to every word of David's.

After Dean Sholl's thoughtful introduction David began listing things he was afraid of, but then the last, and the most important statement, was that he had no fear of failing. He went on to say, "all of us aren't the sum of our successes but the collective fragments of our failures."

We often measure ourselves by our successes, rarely revisiting the times we fail, leaving those buried deep in our secret memories. David's take is the accumulation of failure makes us who we are and raises us up to our successes. He went on to say, "Failure is a gift, so welcome it." Most of us run wildly away from the very idea. But there was my son, David, standing tall and boldly in front of his peers giving them the green light to try and yes maybe fail, emphasizing McCallie is the best place to experience your first failures; a place where there is a community to support you when you do.

I have seen David try and fail over all these years, but he holds those as treasures in his heart, using them to build an incredible life of successes.

And So....

And so again I search for where I go from here. Will my next step be to create a corporation as big as the Susan B. Komen Foundation for Joe's Bone Cancer Walk? Will I take Joedance to the next level renting a theatre rather than have it in our court yard with Mike cooking hotdogs?

The answer is none of the above, all fore mentioned will stay as is for now, for one very special reason. One that Joe would have been proud of and will continue every year from now on to be honored.

This week we received a letter from the parents of the first recipient of the Joe Restaino Scholarship and the long hand written letter confirmed our efforts to keep his memory alive. Joe was fortunate to attend McCallie because of dedicated alumni with a vision of developing a scholarship fund for those who might not consider boarding school. Tony and David have also been beneficiaries of the Honors Scholarship. And in full circle, as a McCallie man would do and because of everyone's support, the Joe Restaino Scholarship for a summer experience abroad has been launched.

We were honored to be present for the first award, we look forward to many more and are so grateful for each and every one of you that has made this possible. I can hear the soft "thank you" of Joe's voice.

Salvation Army

Today with the trunk full of Joe's belongings I drove to Salvation Army. There were bags of Joe's shoes, shorts of varies sizes and his trophies he earned from swimming. Two bins were filled with his belongings and tears rolled down my cheeks. The check in guy sensed this was something special and repeatedly asked how my day was going. I finally turned to him with a tear streaked face and explained this is where Joe, my son who passed away, and his bothers would come every Wednesday to shop the 50% sale for t-shirts. They wore them proudly and even gave them to each other for Christmas.

I told him this was the perfect place to donate his clothes. And with a wink of my eye I said make sure the recipients are special.

Wishing Upon A Star

Every year thousands of high school seniors submit applications to their most coveted college. And the second, third, fourth and of course the safety school; which ironically is always at the bottom of the list, but still the application goes to them.

Seniors wait anxiously for the acceptance letter. The one, as Sally Fields said one Oscar night "You like me you, you really like me". An invitation to belong beyond their mom, dad, grandparents, siblings and friends. It is bigger than the circle who has always acknowledged the hard work, the long hours of studying, the sports and the love of what they do in their small slivers of time left over.

Our boys are waiting for that "you really Like me" letter. One that comes with heft of a large envelope, not a small wimpy letter size. They feel that where they are accepted will map the rest of their lives, us older and wiser ones know there is more than one way to skin a cat. This is not at all defining "the end of my life if I am not accepted" but rather the platform of where they will go from here.

Leaving McCallie

I have driven down the long drive away from McCallie, along with the well placed speed bumps, for seven years. But this drive was the hardest. Every time I drive to the gates and turn right I feel I have left a good friend behind.

I gingerly, and loving placed my oldest son there his freshman year. I cried all the way home. I watched Joe pack Tony's mini fridge his Senior year, saying, "I will plug it in so it is cold enough for your insulin", a comfort for mom sending off a diabetic to boarding school. I saw him buy the rugs for Tony and David's rooms and making sure they were laid out perfectly when they arrived.

But I have also felt the warmth of the hugs from parents and faculty. And every time I pass through the gates to and from McCallie I think of the new friend I have made and the one I bid farewell.

Oscar Night

Our family has a love affair with the Oscars and the Golden Globes. But the Oscars is our night. We spend the year watching every movie available and when the big night comes around we all have our opinions of who should win. Most times we agree, some years we do not, and most times we are rooting for the obscure film.

This year we all agreed on the King's Speech. To have a film produced by the urging of a mom, coupled with a great story during dark times in England looking towards a stutterer to lead the nation, well what more can be said. It was an inspiring movie.

The Ridge

We were back on "The Ridge", better known as McCallie, for a very special event, Honor Scholars Weekend. I have attended two with my sons and two as a parent representative. The first as a volunteer was a cake walk. This one was not since I was asked to talk at the welcoming dinner and the first Joe Restaino '08 Scholarship was being awarded. My heart was in my throat, my hands were covered in clammy sweat and I won't even go to the place of where my stomach was, trust me that is better left unsaid.

Anyone who knows me well is aware that speaking to an audience is very difficult, simply put it is not my cup of tea. Give me a group of two or three I am golden, anything over five I am a wreck. But to be given the opportunity tell a group of potential McCallie men, as well as those who have spent years educating them, what McCallie has meant to our family was more important than my fear of public speaking.

My start was shaky. I looked into the audience and the only faces I saw were those who made everything possible. Those who worked hard to graduate Joe, those who allowed Tony and David to be home with their brother during his last months, those who embraced us with love when that was all we had to cling to, those who have quietly supported us this past year. My voice caught in the vacuum of my throat, my mouth opened but nothing came out, tears welled in my eyes. I took a breath, looked down at my words and somewhere in the space between panic and resolve I delivered my talk.

HIt Me Hard

Today I was going through my emails and there was one from McCallie outlining the schedule for Parent's Weekend. As parents of Seniors I don't know much more we can do in the order of conferences or college applications. But as I scrolled down the list of events my heart dropped. On the official schedule was Joe's Bone Cancer Walk and Swim-A-Thon.

A walk Joe started his Junior year, a walk his brothers have taken on to remember him, a walk that his friends come back for year after year. A walk that is difficult for me since the last one he attended he was recovering from lung surgery and we knew it would most likely be his last. The one I wanted to hold him close but that was not the case. He wanted his friends, he wanted everyone else close but us since it was to painful.

So I will walk on March 5th at McCallie, as I will do every year from this time forward.

Sprint To The Finish

In the throws of college applications it is always one thing or another. We spent most of the day getting their signatures on the last pieces of financial aid and Tony's application for All American. Sandwiched in-between all of this were doctors appointments. It is an insane time. All of us are feeling the pressure of sprinting to the finish line, hopefully intact with a level head ready to counsel our children regarding the best decision for them.

We missed most of this with Joe since he was home and in Chemotherapy. But I do remember one late night in February when he decided to apply to Penn. And at 1:00 AM in the morning he sent off his application, with the hope to fulfill his dream of attending an Ivy League school. We waited to hear the decision. He was accepted and attended. So I take a deep breath with Tony and David, since in reality their applications are not nearly as dramatic as Joe's to Penn, that in the end it works out and they land where they should.

Joy

Yesterday was a very long day, one that would have taxed even the best of human conditions. It was the Tennessee State Dive meet, a 10 hour marathon infused with diet cokes and coffee to keep going. Not to mention the drive from Charlotte to Knoxville and back. Well, again it was another Restaino Road trip.

But in the end it was more joy that I have felt in over a two years. It wasn't that Tony dove incredibly well, through a triple dive or broke a 29 year old school record; it was that we had a moment, a sliver of a golden time after a vast bleakness of dark. We laughed all the way home, like we did in the past from swim and dive meets; we stopped to ordered fries and milkshakes and drove home in the wee hours of the night.

Tony had a perfect meet, we had a perfect day.

I Can't Explain

What I can't explain, or understand, is why some days I fight excruciating fatigue and other days I am full of energy. Is there a hidden switch in my heart that says slow down and remember, and other days flips it to full speed ahead? I have spent a year trying to figure this out with no avail, no answers, no resolve. Today it was full speed ahead even though there were hurdles to jump. But yesterday I could hardly move, making unnerving mistakes that had to be corrected today.

We are still in the muck of sorrow, it distorts our decisions, or in some cases no decisions, but our feet and minds trudge through it everyday.

I hope, and want from the bottom of my heart, to awake full of energy in the morning since it is Tony's State dive meet. I pray to stave off fatigue.

Home

So David is home. Tony has stayed behind to practice before the State Championships, and yet it feels right to just have David home. I always feel better when the boys are home, even if we do not have long conversations. It is just the knowledge they are under my roof, eating my food and sleeping in their beds.

It is different now, one here, the other one not, and Joe never being here again. This is the combination of heart break and rejoice. And here is my first snippet of moving on.

And Where Do We Go From Here?

Ah a very good question. And where do we go from here? For some it is religion, for others it is other forms of soothing the soul. It may be a boomerang back to family members. Or for others it may be connecting to friends from the past. What ever the means we summon to find our way, our path to soothing our hearts, our way to reconciliation.


I have struggled with losing my son over the past year, and yes everyday it's about putting one foot in front of the other. Some days honestly I want to cover my head with the blankets and sleep all day. But on the cusp of year two I have decided to offer snippets every week on how I am surviving. I cannot continue to write about how much I miss Joe, I feel the need to write about how to live, go on, continue after a loss. I hope you will stay with me.

Sixty Two Years

Many of us are grateful to make it 62 years. But, wow, throw down the gauntlet, 62 years of marriage. I sat there with my mom and dad celebrating tonight and the wow factor was my dad opening the door for my mom, ordering her dinner, pushing her chair up to the table so it was just right. And then it was my mom gently laying her hand on my dad's when he would stray from the point of the story.

Sarah and John asked what it takes to get to 62 years. My dad answered it is commitment, getting through the tough times and then relishing the good times. But he finally said if you know this is the one you want spend the rest of your life with go for it, and never look back.

Mike and I saw and took that advice from my parents. We took the leap of faith that all would work out and when it was ugly and painful we held on tighter to each other. When it was time to rejoice we did. But always we were committed.

Clothes

Clothes don't mean much to most people. David is content to wear his most broken in, full of holes khakis everyday. Tony is totally unaware that his shoes are worn out. And well Mike dons his work uniform everyday. The last great dresser I knew was my Grandma Pheobe who always said five great outfits are better than twenty unforgettable ones.

One thing about Joe he was a snappy dresser, and it took inordinate amounts of time to choose his clothes; and I was there for about every decision. So as it comes time to disperse his clothes, every article summons a memory. Therefore it has become difficult for me to let them go. It was one of our connections, a languid time of shopping, him asking repeatedly if it was right; can I do better.

I remember the time when he anguished about a striped shirt, or when we purchased the North Face jacket at Penn State during a water polo tournament, the tie given to him from the store manager at Brooks Brothers in Knoxville just because she was proud he was going to McCallie. His white pants he graduated in, his McCallie tie, and the hat and gloves given to him by the Green's his freshman year at Penn.

I can't let them go out of the house unceremoniously, without reverence, with the possibility of not being able to touch them and remember. So I have decided the most important articles will be made into a quilt. One that will wrap me up in my son's memory everyday.

Comfortable in Your Skin

Tony stood at the podium for his chapel talk today and boldly challenged his fellow students to be true to themselves. Through humor and quite often poking fun at himself he laid down the gauntlet, the challenge for every one of us to be ourselves.

How incredible for an eighteen year old to feel so comfortable in his own skin to challenge us to do the same.

fasfa.gov

So I took on the task of filling out the fsfa, better known as federal student aid form, not just once but twice. Us parents of college bound children entering in the fall know that unless you fill it out you are instantly dumped from any chance of grants, loans, scholarships and work study programs. And it is painful since many of the questions don't offer any explanation, so you have to call for clarification. From past experience they are cheerful in the early weeks of the year but as time passes they grow impatient with the same tedious questions. Not blaming them, I'm just saying.

So after five hours and collecting Tony and David's driver license numbers I will hit the send button, follow up with our 2010 taxes then hold my breath for some money. Two at time is killing me.

Prayer Shawl

Joe had so many prayers shawls. One from the Episcopal School of Knoxville is in the lower room where Tony and David hang out. Others, along with quilts made at McCallie and one made by Tony and David's classmates at Trinity, are scattered around the house. For some reason we all gather comfort by wrapping up in them. But there is a special one that covers me every night while I watch the news of the day before heading to bed.

It arrived at the end, knitted by very special ladies from Yazoo City, MS. They had never met Joe or our family until after he passed away. They are friends of Mary Kay Phillips and sent it on accompanied by a thoughtful note. To receive a prayer shawl from complete strangers is overwhelming.

It was the prayer shawl Joe used until the end. I can still see it laying over him, comforting him, feeling its warmth. It was the last blanket we laid on him. It is the one that sits on "my chair" and with unspoken respect no one ever uses it except me.

Bun Heads

This is a throw back descriptive from my college days and has many uses that encompass thoughtless, idiocy driven acts by yourself or others you encounter. I have used this term a lot over the years but it never fit so well than for our family on January 8, 2010.

Yes, we have travelled to Chattanooga to spend the day with Tony and David on the first anniversary of Joe's death. We had a great lunch and were lingering until the movie started. Now this was a movie that basically fit into the schedule, not really one that we were all wanting to see. So we headed off to see Country Strong, again honestly we had no idea of the story line. It was good, the songs were better than the dialogue, but it definitely did not take much energy to watch.

So if you have not seen the movie and don't want to know the ending, stop reading now. Finally after an over the top concert, Gwenneth shuts the door of her dressing room and locks it. David and I turn to each other in unison saying "She is going to kill herself" and darn it all if that is what she does! Tony jumps out of his seat holding his head "Mom I had no idea that was the story line!"

So the Bun Heads went to a movie, one of Joe's favorite things to do, and watched someone take their life, one of our least favorite things to see.

Hair

So after a year now what? For some reason my thoughts were after January 8th I would feel a slight burden lifted from my aching shoulders. I would see Joe as a child with his "off the wall" shining hair, or in middle school with his incredibly long "thirteen year old" hair or better yet his proudly displayed side burns as a freshman at McCallie.

No, the first image I see when my head hits the pillow is nothing but skin stretched over bones during his last days. They are stubborn memories allowing the fond ones only a fleeting pass before they are squelched. They are memories cloaked in darkness, grey and cold, and leaves me shivering.

So I have taken up of habit thumbing through a few pictures every day of Joe's various hair stages-long, buzzed, and of course those amazing sideburns just before sleep takes me away to either my dreams or nightmares. My reasoning is this simple, if those are my last images of Joe before sleep maybe they will squeeze the haunting memories out. Not forever but just enough to allow me to rest.

One Year

This day is very different than last year. Today Joe left our house for the very last time and we commenced starting the task of saying goodbye to him. I don't remember much of what happened over the next week but there are images, snippets of memories that have lingered. I remember him leaving the house in his Upenn golf shirt and thermal shirt, it was very cold that day and I wanted to make sure he was warm. I remember putting the house back together. Then the surreal drive to the funeral home where we saw Joe for the last time and thinking how he would have hated that they "popped" his collar.

Vivid and clear are the memories in the wee hours in the morning. That is when I laid beside my son waiting for Hospice and the funeral home. I fell asleep, a sleep so deep I had to be shaken awake. I did so stubbornly. I did not want to leave my dream to face the grey just before dawn delivering me to the task of making phone calls.

The Last Glance

I have struggled with this posting, always thinking I should never write publicly about this moment. I am pulled in two directions, one of privacy and one of sharing. So here it goes.

An image came rushing back to me while spreading his ashes at McCallie. It was his last glance. After days of not moving, his eyes closed shut, no food or water for a week we knew Joe was within hours of his death. In the last week I always sat beside him on our bed, holding his hand stroking his forehead as we took turns administrating pain medications. He had what they called the "death rattle"; he was running out of air and his heart was racing. I remember Mike saying to him even though we would miss him terribly we would all be OK and remember him forever.

As Joe struggled for every breath I held his hand tighter. Then with one last gasp, he turned his head, opened his eyes and looked at me. It wasn't a look of fear, but one of I will miss you all so much. It was the last communication I had with Joe, and is burned in my memory forever.

It was the best conversation I ever had with my son.

The Truth

I am so tired of being sad.

Finding the Light

Mike and I had dinner with one of Joe's closest friends in Charleston several weeks ago and visited with his parents. During the evening I kept thinking of Joe and how everything would eventually circle around. We would attend their college graduations, weddings and rejoice the news of their children. But then I thought after what has been lost I have so much to relish. Tony and David carry the light for us to live on after tragedy. And I am so grateful.

The Fine Line

Our family has a fine line that we choose to cross everyday. It is always the quandary of answering the question of how many children you have, or for Tony and David how many brothers and sisters. And we stand daily at the fine line of do we tell or not. It came up today at a new doctors office. We squirmed just a bit and answered "yes it just these two children", but we all felt the guilt of not recognizing Joe. Not that we have forgotten him, it is just we don't want to explain and see or hear their hollow condolences. To be honest they don't know us nor did they know Joe.

I still struggle with our answers, not to ignore Joe, but not wanting to have to explain. And everyday I stand on that fine line as does Mike, Tony and David.

Privacy

Joe was always a private person. He held his feelings close and his emotions in check until circumstances became overwhelming, and that was usually when the flood gates would open. Sometimes it would be his uncontrollable anger about his cancer, or it was his crushing grief of leaving his family and friends behind.

But I do know this, in the last two years he opened his heart to all of us, twice through his Chapel talks and many times in our home. I remember one night in particular when Joe and I talked while the rest of the house was fast asleep. We were huddled close to each other, whispering so not to wake Mike, Tony and David as they slept on our bedroom floor. He leaned over to me saying how he had been cheated, asking why his life was being dashed away. I had no answers to his questions, but I am forever grateful for our conversation.

This brave young man stepped out of his private world and allowed us to walk with him to the very end. What an incredible gift.