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.

Diced Pimentos

If you were still here I could have asked you what to do with the jar of diced pimentos that I received in a gift basket.  I was showing Brandon and I said, "I'm going to have to call Arlene and ask her what I do with these," and then that sunk in. There is so much that I have just wanted to pick up the phone and ask you about, like which hotel would be best for the wedding and what engagement pictures do you think I should give nana and papa and do you have an easier recipe for cheeseburger soup then I do. Just so much that i still need you for... But seriously what do I do with these diced pimentos?? <3

The "I Can't Believe It" Times

If you were still here, I would hope we could talk about all the scary times that are coming up.  We never did that, we always stayed positive about your cancer journey.

I'm having moments where I still can't believe in that ICU room that we said goodbye to you.  You didn't say goodbye back, not in so many words anyways.  We had our family time together, and then you faded away.  It was the last time I will ever look you in the eyes, the last time I'll ever get to hear your voice-- which by the end had gotten so raspy and labored that I knew it wasn't how I would want to remember you.  That was the last time you would sit with dad, holding hands.  The last time I would get to touch your hair or see your smile.

Meatball posted something on facebook today about cooking the turkey and drinking wine.. holidays were always so much fun with you and our family, and I'm going to miss drinking wine with you.  We're about to embark on your favorite holidays and I barely even want to wrap a present.  It just doesn't feel the same knowing that you're not going on the regular "girls" shopping trip with your friends this weekend, shopping for the last gifts on our lists.  You were the best at gift-giving... and you took so much joy in carefully selecting each present and wrapping it, and I know you the loved the look on our faces when we would sit around opening them.  Each of us had a special different style and you always nailed it.  And you loved opening your gifts too.  Gift-guesser!

And you loved having a couple different wine selections available for thanksgiving dinners, and sitting around drinking them with your family.  We didn't have a "last thanksgiving", because last thanksgiving was your last thanksgiving and we didn't really know it then.  I can't believe that was almost a year ago, and you're gone.

I can't believe we won't get to hear your bustling in the kitchen and your laughter, I just can't fathom how 3 months ago you took your last breath and that's it.  Forever.  Permanent.  No do-overs, no take-backs.  I'm really scared about the next two months and if you were still here, and this was a whole other situation-- I'd have you to help me get through it.

Kirkland

If you were still here, you would've gotten to see this weekend how much my son loves your husband, and vice versa.

As I've always done, I tell Kirkland every morning (and sometimes the night before) what our plan is for the day. He gets REALLY excited about where we're going and who we're going to see. I told him on Friday morning that we were camping this weekend at Penn State with Uncle Barry. He suddenly told me that he didn't want to go to school. I asked why, and he told me that he wanted to stay with Uncle Barry. I told him that Uncle Barry had to work and after a whiny 'OK' I got him in the car and dropped him at school. That afternoon when I picked him up, he asked if we were going to see Uncle Barry. I told him yes, and every person he saw on the way out he told "I'm going to see Uncle Barry!!!!" Upon our arrival at Bald Eagle, Uncle Barry opened his car door (much like you always did) and he was soooo excited to see him! They were best buds all weekend...hugs, cuddles, trips to the port-a-johns, cheesy poofs, and cheering Penn State on to victory. You probably would've been a little jealous! But as Barry has said many times, Kirkland needs his Uncle Barry just as much as his Uncle Barry needs him.

Oh, and thanks for the shooting star display at the campsite Friday night. One of the first things Kirkland did when he got out of the car was look for the brightest star, so we knew Auntie Ar was watching over us. If you were still here, we'd be talking today about how amazing the weekend was, how lucky we are, and how hard it is to be in the real world on Monday morning!

Chex Mix

I wish you were still here so we could talk about cooking and baking.

I think it's funny, because most of my life I was made to believe that Chex Mix just wasn't good unless there were all kinds of other things in there (nuts.  pretzels.  some people thought Cheerios belonged in Chex Mix.  those little bagel chip things...)... and you, being the kitchen/snack/appetizer aficionado that you were, I thought you belonged to the "more is more" demographic when it came to Chex Mix.

I only learned like 2 years ago (after I proclaimed my minimalist view on the stuff --pretzels and chex only--and thought for sure you'd scoff me for not putting at least nuts in, haha) that you'd actually be fine with the barebones: JUST CHEX.  "OH NO, Honey," you said "I really only like it for the CHEX!" *insert a big smile, and you pulling your hand out of the bag and popping some in your mouth*

So I made some tonight, since I'm going to Charlotte next weekend.  This is the first time I didn't even put pretzels in.  If you were still here, I would save you a bag and take it to dad's work to bring home to you.  Or maybe you'd still have the flower shop, I'd have been happy to drop some off. 

I Was Turning Blue

I wish you were still here so I could tell you about the silly stupid things I do.  I can imagine you laughing and rolling your eyes at me over this one.

Last week, I started noticing that my skin was turning blue.  I could wipe it off, but the blue color would come back. I let it go for a day, and then I started to panic.  I decided I had to look it up, in case it was some symptom of a rare disease... how typical of me to contract a rare disease where I sweated blue.  So I looked it up on google "skin turns blue, kinda wipes off?" and I saw the answer...

My brand new flannel sheets.  You had introduced me to flannel sheets, and I had gotten a great deal on a set at Ross.  Navy blue.  I even washed them before I used them for the first time... turns out my dryer is blue now haha.

I just wanted to pick up the phone and call you, or tell you next time at dinner, about how I thought I was turning into a smurf but it turned out to be my new flannel sheets.  I just knew you would laugh and roll your eyes.

If you were still here, I would have told you that story and accepted the laughter and eye roll.  :)