Michael Makes Me Giggle

If you were still here, I know you'd get a kick out of this one. 

One of your "Fab 6" is a proud new business owner. Jeanie and Jason bought Fox's Pizza here in Brookville. 

I tried to clue Michael into this little tidbit. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Hey, you know Jeanie and Jason?

Michael: Who?

Me: Jeanie and Jason. Geer. Arlene's friend Jeanie?  Their kids are always running around outside on Walnut Street. 

Michael: Oh. Yeah. What about em. 

Me: They bought Fox's!

Michael: *contemplating* Huh. .... Where are they gonna keep em?

Me: What? Keep what? Not FOXES the ANIMALS...they got FOX'S. Like Fox's Pizza?

Michael: Oh. *clearly not surprised enough to demonstrate understanding* So?

Me: LIKE THEY BOUGHT THE BUSINESS. 

Michael: OH! I couldn't figure out why you were telling me they ordered pizza. Ok! I get it. When did they do that??

And that's how life goes sometimes, with my Michael, and it's pretty funny. You always liked to hear how things were here at our house and liked to read my funny "Living with Finch" statuses on Facebook. 

I would have told you this story in person, and I can picture you giving a full body laugh and saying "That Michael is really something..."  if you were still here. 

Christmas Grace

This is the prayer I said before lunch on Christmas. 

Father God, there is none greater than You.   You are always ready to help in times of trouble.  We praise You.  We thank You, Father, for Your love for us and for sending Your son Jesus to save us. 

We thank You for our family and the love we have for each other.  We are thankful to You for the time we get to spend together. 

And we ask You for peace. We know You comfort those who mourn. We are thankful for the blessings You have given us and we just ask that You send the Holy Spirit to be with us as we grieve for our lost family members. We are thankful for their time on earth and the impact they had on our lives.  As we call on You, we know You have promised to answer.  

Father, we ask You to continue to surround us with family, friends and loved ones this holidays season and hereafter. Please keep us safe in our travels. Please help us to be the light for those around us and help us do Your will. Please bless the food we are about to eat, and all the hands that have prepared it as well as everyone who helped to bring it all together. 

And in Your Son's name, please bless the crooked politicians and keep Donald trump out of the White House.  

In Your holy name we pray, amen. 

Ugh

If you were still here you would realize shit is fucked up. 

It's crazy how you feel fine until you're driving the same road you drove 85% of your life... And then you realize your destination-- your childhood home and your stepmom isn't there. 

It's crazy how you feel fine the whole day surrounded by the people who understand the most what you're feeling-- and then you go to your friend's house and he puts on a Dean Martin Christmas album and you lose your shit because Christmas came and went and the nightmare isn't over. 

It's crazy how you can stuff it all down and keep your insanity in check and you take one look at your heartbroken aunt, father, grandmother, etc and it's not even okay anymore how things aren't fair. 

I'm just saying that no matter what I think I'm prepared for-- I can just about get through it until it's almost over and then I freak out. 

I don't know what's going on or how long it's gonna last but I swear-- I wish you were still here because I would rather be going through it with you than without you. 

Ugh. 

The circle of life

If you were still here, I wouldn't feel angry that I'm sitting in our mother's hospital room by myself. If you were still here, I wouldn't be sitting in our mother's hospital room by myself. I'm so angry that I have to face our parents' aging alone. I know darn well that I'm truly not alone...our dear cousin Fawn spent the weekend with me even though she has way more than enough on her plate already. I know that I can count on my husband, and your husband and kids, and our countless family and friends who have been so incredible for the last year of our lives. I know how lucky I am to have so many wonderful people in my life, but I'm still angry and sad that you're not here.

If you were still here, you would appreciate the fact that West Penn Hospital has the best gummy bears in the history of gummy bears, and we would've laughed so hard trying to figure out exactly what flavor each color was. You would've been just as excited about the plethora of flavors as I was. I miss having someone who gets just as excited over the little things in life as I do.

If you were still here, I wouldn't have cried like a baby when they brought Mom up from recovery because I was having flashbacks to seeing you in that hospital bed. If you were still here, I wouldn't have had to spend the last week mentally preparing my son to see his nana in a hospital bed; to make sure he is fully aware of the fact that nana is just getting her foot fixed, and that she will get better and come home rather than going to heaven.

If you were still here, I wouldn't feel the need to talk about you so much in front of Kirkland. He would be able to talk to you and play with you and do fun things with you. Instead, we blow you a kiss in heaven every night and I talk about you constantly and show him pictures so that he remembers the fun times we shared, not just the time you spent in the hospital. My biggest fear is that he'll forget you and he won't remember the wonderful person that was his Auntie Ar.

If you were still here, you would be so excited to stay at Paige's new house with me tonight. You would've been so proud of the vase of flowers that she arranged herself and brought to mom yesterday. You would've likely rearranged said vase of flowers upon her departure, but you would've commented on what a good kid she was for coming to see us. If you were still here, you would insist that we stop to find a gift for her new house, to thank her for letting us stay there. And only you could walk in a store and find the most perfect thing to buy her.

You have no idea how many times I wanted to apologize to Mom because God chose me as the daughter to keep here on earth. I am nowhere near as kind or as strong or as wonderful as you were. I don't think of everything and plan ahead for every situation. I don't do anything as well as you did...I'm trying really hard, but I'm just not you. If you were still here we could laugh at my inadequacies, instead of me crying about them. I love you and miss you so badly it hurts. I just wish so badly that you were still here...

Under Pressure

If you were still here I wouldn't be crying all alone in my bed because I miss you.  If you were still here I would have been 100% happy tonight on my surprise date with Brandon. If you were still here I would have called you today to ask you if the hotel I chose for the wedding room block was the right choice. But you're not here... So I am crying uncontrollably alone and I doubted all day whether I made the right choice, And I had to hold back the tears that I wanted to cry at dinner... People tell me I'm supposed to let myself grieve but when am I supposed to do that? I feel the pressure of having to go to work everyday with a smile on my face and I have to be energetic and motivating for my residents because you can't be a good wellness coordinator if you just cry all the time and can't even teach your classes... So I shut my sadness off cuz there isn't time for that with a full time job.  I am engaged to a wonderful man and so I have a wedding to plan... this is supposed to be one of the happiest times of my life... I don't have time to cry anytime I feel like it so it's easier to pretend like everything doesn't suck and just keep living life. I am away from all the people that knew you and loved you as much as I do so i feel like no one understands and I'm the only one suffering so it easier to pretend like I'm not suffering at all. How am I supposed to find time to get through this? And that's the worst part, I'm never going to because when you died, you took a part of my heart with you that I won't get back this side of heaven.  I know it's selfish but I wish you were here so I didn't have to deal with any of this.

I'm Afraid and Angry

If you were still here, you would talk some sense into me. 

People are telling me there is no God. People I know and love are trying to convince me that this is all bullshit. There is no reason you could be taken from us. 

But I feel your love and the void of it. I dropped to my knees in the middle of a field. I looked at the stars. I cried until it hurt. I cursed the heavens.

I pounded the ground. 

I dug my fingernails into the earth beneath my knees. 

I all but screamed- what I wanted to do was scream. But people held me. People let me cry my eyes out. They let me just feel. 

I want to die with purpose. I want to explain how I feel. I want to open my eyes and see you again and bury my face in a healing hug. 

Where are you and how is it possible that you aren't here? 

How are things ever supposed to feel normal or real again?

My Struggle With Grief

I think I'm struggling so much with grieving because part of me isn't sad. The cards you were dealt were far from a winning hand, that's for sure (but dang, you sure did handle it all like a rocket star, or so Nana would say lol).  If you were still here, I can't even imagine how much pain and suffering you would be experiencing. Knowing what I know about Heaven and you being their with God brings my heart a lot of joy. Don't get me wrong, I miss you more than I even knew was possible to bare.  Sometimes I shake because I'm crying so hard and I am very afraid that this big hole I feel in my heart will never go away and that's hard to handle sometimes. I am also afraid that if I take time to be sad and grieve, I won't know where to stop and keep  my history of  depression from trying  to make its way back into my life. God has helped me so much by giving me the strength to be grateful that you are healed, perfect, and so ridiculously happy that we can't comprehend this side of Heaven. That I was able to pick out my perfect wedding dress with you there, that I was able to be by your side at the end (and I will never be able to thank Michael enough for buying my ticket home). Our love and almost 15 years together is so much to be thankful for.  I can't be sad and wish you back here when I know how good you have it there. As much as I don't want to wish my life away, the thought of being reunited with you and other family members brings a great deal of warmth to my heart. And who knows, I may come apart at the seams and have a different perspective in a different stage of this journey, but for now I am going to keep living everyday with as much meaning and joy that comes my way and when I miss you so much that it hurts I will cry and that's ok, too. For now though, I'm going to keep telling God to tell you I love you each day  and I'm going to keep smiling at all the flat Arlene's I have hanging around my room  (7 to be exact) and I am going to sing Christmas carols and help Brandon's family decorate and celebrate Christmas to the best of my ability because you helped show me how special and meaningful that could all be.  I love you, Mub <3

Here Comes Santa Claus

If you were still here, and healthy, we would be flinging ourselves into the holiday season.

I loved your passion for decorating the house and your flower shop, and I remember clearly harassing you every year about how much you loved Christmas.  I would send you pictures texts of people who were wearing Christmas wreaths as clothing or make fun of you for how awesome you wrapped presents.  But for as much as I ever mocked you for it, your home was always an amazingly warm and awesome place to be on Christmas morning because it wasn’t just decorated with the tree or lights or garlands, it was decorated with your spirit.  It was filled with tradition and surprise and anticipation. 

You got us the best gifts.. some we asked for and some we didn’t know we wanted.  Your thoughtfulness was like this big palpable hug that was with us around the holiday season—which might be why I feel so empty about it this year.  I hear a Christmas song and I almost get my engine going with “Christmas spirit” but then I shrink back down into the lonely truth that it’s just never going to be the same.  And even though next year or the year after I might feel differently, at this point in my life I can’t imagine anything ever replacing it – and certainly never topping it.  Arlene Christmas wasn’t just about the presents or the decorations, it was the feelings and the PJs and the morning coffee/drinks/cinnamon rolls/breakfast/sitting on the couch with you and dad and Bailey (when she was home).  And while I like to think I never took that for granted, I know that I did because we all did.  We never thought in a million years that you’d be ripped from our lives too soon.  In the same way that Shaw Christmas wouldn’t ever be the same if we lost someone on Greenwood Avenue, Christmas day will never be the same because it won’t have the special Arlene touch.  

I don’t know what I’m trying to say here other than … I’m trying my best to have some kind of holiday cheer.  I get a feeling that I want to do something good, because giving feels better than receiving for me, but then I’m  not really sure where to start because I’m just dreading how different it’s going to be.  I looked up on pinterest some good nail art ideas for December and sat down with my polishes last night—and I ended up with red tips and nothing fancy.  How could my fingernails be merry and bright when I’m not?

And I know dad needs me (and the whole family) to be by his side and strong for Christmas… but I just want to slink away and be by myself where no-one knows what I’m going through because it’s just too much to try and wrap my head around the fact that we had someone so awesome and she was taken away.

So I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.  I’m going to try and pray, I’m going to put up a Christmas tree at my house, and I’m probably going to drink a lot because that’s all I can really envision doing at this point.  Maybe next year, things will seem less difficult—but for now I hope you’re looking down and can forgive me for not being full-blown excited about Christmas… because it’s hard since you’re not here.

It's A Marathon Key, Not A Sprint

If you were still here and healthy, you would have loved this past week.  I can’t believe your sissy got married in the Florida Keys!!  The house you and Brad picked for the location was truly amazing.  Everything basically fell into place with the caterers, the florist, the hair stylists… and our friends and family only left one thing to be desired: for you to have been there too. 

Dad was a mess.  He knows how much you loved weddings, and the sunglasses didn’t come off his face the whole time.  The hugs were longer, the sentences were shorter, and I could tell how hard it was to see your sister get married without you there for it.  I’m sure he was glad to be a part of it, and he had Kirkland and the rest of us to get him through it and keep his spirits up.  I only cried once for just a second.  I wasn’t trying to be insensitive, I just sometimes have this feeling that if I don’t hold it together, I’m going to start an avalanche and everyone else is going to collapse too.  I didn’t want to do that on such a joyous occasion as a wedding.  Brad and Kimmy tied the knot and we danced and drank and laughed and sang and it was amazing.  I can’t explain how thankful I am that you were able to go on the Pub Crawl in March to see them get engaged.  If you hadn’t been around for that, I don’t know if I could have enjoyed the day as much as I did—but knowing that you were a big part of getting the marriage ball rolling seemed to comfort me somehow.

Of course it all came tumbling down on Wednesday when we visited Key West.  We found the cutest restaurant for dinner with live music, it wasn’t crowded and the food was great, and the boat drinks were tasty… you would have absolutely loved it.  And I couldn’t help but feel my heart break just a little bit more in that place, surrounded by family, in a place that you would have been smiling in, telling stories, and laughing with us.  It was you who introduced me to places like this and taught me how to be carefree and live a little.  I remember growing up always worrying about me or bailey spending too much of dad’s money on a vacation or a nice dinner… but you were always more interested in enjoying the experience.  You would encourage us to get whatever we wanted if it came to a fancy drink or appetizer.  Wednesday night when we watched the sunset on the pier, dad didn’t bat an eye when I ordered a 9 dollar Moscow Mule (since Bailey and dad did too).  I looked at him and said “Eh, these are kind of expensive, but Arlene would have told us to get them if we wanted them”.  He looked back at me and said “I watched her order an $18.00 drink once, so…” and we all laughed a little.  For you, it was always it about the experience and who was there in the moment with you—not the amount of the bill.  So what if I got a little misty watching a sunset, and so what if I started bawling in the middle of the meal at the Smokin Tuna Saloon that night?  I’m human… I can’t always cry in private.  I just miss you.

We swam on thanksgiving, and I can’t help but feel you would have had a thanksgiving “drink of the day” planned :).  The boys went fishing—and the girls drank 5 or 6 pitchers of pina coladas.  I’m not fooling anyone with this “drinking my feelings” plan… but they were really good pina coladas.  I like to think that you would have been drinking with us by the pool, splashing with Kirkland, and somewhere around noon saying “I wonder if your daddy and the guys are having fun?”

Anyway.  I just know you would have had a great time and loved the whole experience.  Your family is awesome, and I’m glad we all were together on thanksgiving—for a holiday that wasn’t going to feel much like one at home anyway.   And now we have these memories of Kimmy’s wedding week in the keys.  By the way, the flowers were really pretty—orange and blue was a great idea.

All the books say that we’re going to be grieving for quite a while—and they also say that some people might not understand.  I’m one of the people who doesn’t understand, for the record.  It just hurts so much and feels so unfair… I keep feeling so cheated because we had such a good thing going and it will never be the same ever again.  Through some divine intervention, I really enjoyed our vacation to Marathon Key last week, it just hurts now knowing how much better it would have been if you were still here.

The Catch

If you were still here... I always catch myself saying that. 

I opened a bottle of Horn E. Elk from Elk Mountain Winery and remembered how you introduced me to their selection and their silly names. I can hear your little giggle/chuckle in my mind's ear. I can see the smirk and eventually the big smile. I can see your excited, squinty eyes. 

There is a major catch to all of this and I have to stop myself to remind myself of it. If you were still here, in the state you left us, you wouldn't be enjoying any wine with me. You wouldn't be enjoying much of anything except maybe precious time-- but how much is time really a blessing when all your days are painful and all your breaths are shallow and all your existence is in one place where you MIGHT get comfortable?

I catch myself saying "if you were still here..." but really I mean if you were still here and HEALTHY. We would be getting ready to fly to Florida for your sister's wedding. We would be figuring out how many cars we need to take to the airport. We would be drinking wine and laughing. You would be picking out a tree that's too big for the great room and telling dad "just one more year for the big trees." 

But if you were still here and not healthy-- we wouldn't probably be going to Florida at all. We certainly wouldn't be drinking wine and we definitely wouldn't be taking car trips.. those were a disaster toward the end. I don't know if we would worry about what the tree looked like or if the house got decorated to perfection. Hard to say what we would be doing if you were still here in that condition. 

But if you were still here I wouldn't have had to help dad submit a claim with the travel insurance to refund your ticket.... Might have been all of our tickets. 

I'm glad you're somewhere where there is no suffering. But I think of you all the time and what life would be like for all of us if you were still here. 

I don't know what to do with my hands....

If you were still here, I would have to tell you that I never knew how important you were to my children.  People hear the word step-mother and step-mom and they think, oh, that’s just the second wife.  We don’t think that the step-mom could ever be as important as the real mom – especially when the real mom is still around and in their lives.  I never realized that they relied on you for the same things they rely on me for.  I never knew they asked you the questions that they asked me.  I wonder if we ever gave the same advice to the questions they asked.  I wonder if they picked and chose which answer they liked better.  If you were still here I would thank you for being someone they felt they could rely on.

If you were still here, I would have to admit that I am just a tiny bit jealous of how they feel about you – not how they felt about you, but how they feel about you.  Of course, if you were still here I don’t know that I would know any of this because you would still be here and none of the issues that they are going thru would be visible.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t for one minute begrudge you their love.  I am eternally grateful that they loved you and that you loved them in return.  I think if they hadn’t loved you as much as they did, they probably wouldn’t have the relationship that they have with their dad.

If you were still here, I would tell you that I wish that I had gotten to know you better SOONER. There just never seemed the need for that.  I was the ex-wife and that kinda thing just doesn’t happen...ex-wives and current wives don't hang out together.  I am grateful that I DID get to know you better when I did because that helps me understand a little more why and how you were such an integral part of the girl’s lives.

If you were still here I would say that I never felt like we had to compete for their love.  I know sometimes, holidays mostly, we had to compete for their time a little more than either one of us probably wanted, but I feel like we always made it work.

There is a major, very selfish reason, I wish you were still here – and that is so that I wouldn’t have to watch them suffer from your loss.  It’s been three months and they are struggling daily with their grief and I don’t seem to have the words to comfort them and that leaves me feeling inadequate to say the least.  If you were still here this would all be moot… I wish you were still here.