We had our 15-year class reunion this weekend. Jessica and I planned it, and we had it at the CS Sports Bar in Eden Valley. Planning things like this can be tiring, but the night was so, so worth it. In case you don't know, I think I am addicted to event planning. I have planned the past 3 reunions, 2 MOTA (MN occupational therapy association) conferences (not by myself, but was part of the committee), a special-needs dance recital--every year, and the Boni-ball, a formal evening event that raises money for St. Boniface, where the boys go to school.
Every time I am involved in these things, I think, "What was I thinking?" "Why do I do this to myself?" "I can't wait until this thing is over!!" Then, when the event comes, it has (so far) turned out so well, and it is so rewarding to be a part of it.
Our class reunion was so much fun, and worth every minute of planning! I love reunions, and am so sad that it will be five years until our next one. I had a blast, talking with old friends--some who I haven't seen since our 10-year, cutting up the rug on the dance floor (I am still sore!!), and enjoying a few beverages (a few too many...Sunday was a bit rough). But the great thing about graduating from such a small class is that it feels like seeing long-lost family members.
In St. Anthony's (the Catholic school I attended from 2-8 grade), there were about 17 kids in our class who were there for the entire 6 years. Seeing those guys is like seeing your family. We grew up together, shared so many of the same experiences, and each one of those people is a part of my childhood. It felt so good to hug everyone, visit with everyone, and enjoy being around each other.
I realized I am turning into one of those nostalgic suckers who would live in the past if I were allowed to. I'd go back to grade school in a minute, and would hesitate, but would probably return to high school, too. There were (allegedly) comments made to my husband such as "where was THAT girl in high school?" She was there all along, but lacked the confidence to let me be me. If I had that confidence, I would go back in a minute, and I'm sure my experience would have been so much more positive. I hope to impart that bit of advice onto my daughter when she reaches that age, and hopefully high school won't be so painful for her.
Well, I'm going to go and listen to my New Kids on the Block, Whitesnake, and Tiffany while I go rat my hair and remember the good ol' days.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Something Lighter
Well, back to the same ol' postings about what is new with us.
Nothing.
We are all well, staying healthy, and ready for spring! Alex and I are counting down the days until we can get out on our bikes. That is such a fun thing we both enjoy doing. This year, I'm sure Cameron will join us, since he is finally riding a 2-wheeler with ease. He began riding on 2 wheels last summer, but was pretty cautious for the first month or so. Bike rides took a loooong time. It is nice to get those boys outside and burn off some energy (Lord knows, they have plenty of it!)
Alex sang today at the Winter Festival at our church with the Childrens' Choir. Now, I'm sure most parents believe their children are gifted, so I am really trying to not think that, but that boy has some serious musical ability, or so I believe. He was able to play the chimes during a song, and he played them with perfect timing, right on cue. He has an amazing ability to retain a song, and can sing it perfectly. I have been trying to teach him to play piano, but haven't been diligent with it. Then, I thought we could work on learning the guitar this summer. I would love to learn to play a guitar, and I know he would like it, too. We have a child's guitar that used to belong to Ed. I'm sure it isn't the best guitar, but it might be a place to start.
Cameron and Lilly are doing well. Cameron has been slacking on his reading after devouring nearly 20 books last month. He is all anxious about it, but has been so busy playing with his toys and playing outside that he just can't seem to sit down to read. He is such a self-motivated kid, which makes my life easier. He knows what he needs to do, and he just does it.
Lilly has been well, I think the key to managing her respiratory issues is the 1x/day nebs. She sounds perfectly clear right now. But, boy, has she been challenging. She is very strong-willed AND emotional right now. She told me today "I'm angry at you!!!!" and stomped away........Oh, boy.......She has cried in the mornings because she doesn't want to go to Tracy's (daycare), then she cries when I pick her up because she doesn't want to go home. We just can't make her happy.
I'm heading for bed. I have been staying up way too late for the past few nights, and it is finally catching up with me.
Adios
Nothing.
We are all well, staying healthy, and ready for spring! Alex and I are counting down the days until we can get out on our bikes. That is such a fun thing we both enjoy doing. This year, I'm sure Cameron will join us, since he is finally riding a 2-wheeler with ease. He began riding on 2 wheels last summer, but was pretty cautious for the first month or so. Bike rides took a loooong time. It is nice to get those boys outside and burn off some energy (Lord knows, they have plenty of it!)
Alex sang today at the Winter Festival at our church with the Childrens' Choir. Now, I'm sure most parents believe their children are gifted, so I am really trying to not think that, but that boy has some serious musical ability, or so I believe. He was able to play the chimes during a song, and he played them with perfect timing, right on cue. He has an amazing ability to retain a song, and can sing it perfectly. I have been trying to teach him to play piano, but haven't been diligent with it. Then, I thought we could work on learning the guitar this summer. I would love to learn to play a guitar, and I know he would like it, too. We have a child's guitar that used to belong to Ed. I'm sure it isn't the best guitar, but it might be a place to start.
Cameron and Lilly are doing well. Cameron has been slacking on his reading after devouring nearly 20 books last month. He is all anxious about it, but has been so busy playing with his toys and playing outside that he just can't seem to sit down to read. He is such a self-motivated kid, which makes my life easier. He knows what he needs to do, and he just does it.
Lilly has been well, I think the key to managing her respiratory issues is the 1x/day nebs. She sounds perfectly clear right now. But, boy, has she been challenging. She is very strong-willed AND emotional right now. She told me today "I'm angry at you!!!!" and stomped away........Oh, boy.......She has cried in the mornings because she doesn't want to go to Tracy's (daycare), then she cries when I pick her up because she doesn't want to go home. We just can't make her happy.
I'm heading for bed. I have been staying up way too late for the past few nights, and it is finally catching up with me.
Adios
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Turned on a Dime
10 years ago, tomorrow (Feb 8), was the day my mom died, and my life was forever changed. I have often pondered how one split second can change so many lives. I have been awestruck by the accumulation of events that had to occur to reach that end. If she would have lingered at home for just a second longer, if she would have had to wait at the 4-way stop in Kimball for one more car, or if the woman who hit her could have avoided crossing the center line...It is so hard to know what life would be like if the events had been changed slightly. But the events haven't changed slightly, and when I think of the odds of her accident, her fatality, when I think of how each second of that fateful trip into work that morning had to have been carefully orchestrated for it to happen the way it did, I realize that God wanted her. Plain and simple. He wanted her with him, it was her time to go, and it was as if his hand simply reached down and took her.
10 years...seems like it has been the blink of an eye, yet, at the same time, I find myself wondering, it's only been 10 years? These years have passed so quickly, yet so slowly. My life has changed in so many ways in the past 10 years, and the presence of my mom is now a big "I wonder" question as opposed to actually missing her. I wonder what relationship she would have had with my kids, would she be the cool grandma that I could pawn my kids off to at least one weekend a month (WISHFUL THINKING--haha)? Would all three of my kids feel a close bond to her, or would one of them share something special with just her? Would she be caught dead wearing a "#1 Grandma" embroidered sweatshirt? (doubtful...highly doubtful--anyone who knew her should be giggling at that one)
I remember the day before the accident, she and I spent the entire day together. We had such a great time together, visiting and laughing. We were at a birthday party for my cousins in the early afternoon, and I remember wanting to go sit by her feet so she would play with my hair. I thought to myself, "geez, you are 23 years old, and you still want your mom to play with your hair?" In the interest of looking mature, I decided against it, and kept my seat on the couch opposite her, as she discussed the fact that she was going to be a grandma (Jamie's baby, Nathan, was due in 3 months). "I am not old enough to be a grandma" was her mantra. After the birthday party, we went back home to Watkins, and had such a great time visiting. We talked and laughed, sitting in the kitchen. She was sitting on her barstool (the one on the right), and I sat on top of the counter. I left at about 5:00, and she walked me to my car. She borrowed me some cassette tapes, and gave me a hug. She stood in the driveway as I left, watching me go. My memory of that moment is that she was waving at me, but I can't be sure that was actually the case. I had no idea it would be the last time I would ever see her.
I spoke to her on the phone later that evening, and at the end of the conversation, there was an awkward pause. For those who didn't know her, she was not always demonstrative with her emotions (shocking...). So about 50% of the time, at the end of a phone call, she would say "I love you," and about 50% of the time, there was an awkward pause. This phone call was the awkward pause. I laughed after I hung up the phone, muttered, "chicken shit", and didn't think any more about it.
The next morning, Ed and I had taken the day off of work, and we were just going to whatever we felt like doing. We were getting ready to go to St. Cloud to shop around a bit, and we were planning to go to Sibley State park to go hiking (it was a mild February morning--a Monday), when I received the phone call. We were about 10 minutes from leaving home, and we didn't have cell phones at the time. We could have potentially been gone all day...I have often wondered what that would have been like. Dad called to let me know that Mom was killed in a car accident. When Dad called, I immediately knew something was wrong, and I was prepared to hear that my Grandma Loch had passed away. So I was very confused because I thought Grandma (his mom) was in a car accident, which was bizarre because she never left her apartment. After Dad clarified, and I realized it was my mom who died, I was speechless. It was not how you would think it would be...you would think I would have screamed, thrown the phone, and collapsed in tears, but no, I had no words (which is rare). I gathered my thoughts, and said, "OK...well....just let me know when the wake and funeral are, and I'll be there". WHAT???? Looking back, it seems crazy that I was actually planning to carry on with my day, as if a distant relative had just died. " Oh, great Uncle Frank died? OK, sure, well, yep, I'll be at the wake on Wednesday, but I gotta run to the mall now." Dad actually had to ask me, "could you come home?" Oh...home...yeah...that's probably what I should do...hm-mmm, OK, sure.
I don't know when the tears started, but they didn't start until I got home. I was so awkward in the car, I would say things to Ed like, "I sure will miss her..." I guess no one knows how to behave in these instances. Looking back, I was clearly in absolute shock and I was very confused. Once the tears started, it was like you would imagine, they didn't stop for three days. We had many decisions to make that day...what to do with the body? Open casket? Closed casket? Cremation? To anyone reading this: Please make sure your loved ones know what you want! It was horrible to try to make these enormous decisions in the midst of our shock and raw grief. In the end, we chose cremation. Mom would not have wanted her body on display for all to see (her hair and makeup would have been all wrong!!). She was also fearfully claustrophobic, and none of us felt right burying her body in a casket underground. We settled on cremation, and if we wanted to see her, we would have to go either that day or early the next. I chose not to see her body afterward because I wanted my final memory of her to be what I had seen the day before, her standing in the driveway as I pulled away in my car. I wanted to remember her face when I hugged her good-bye in the patio. I didn't want to see the cold, lifeless expression I can only imagine she wore. I didn't really want to know much of anything, where the accident happened, what she was wearing, what items were in her purse, the extent of her bodily injuries. I had enough to deal with to comprehend that she was gone. I didn't need all of the extra information.
I will spare some of the details of the day of and day after her death because much of it is a blur. There was such an outpouring from the community, I was so overwhelmed by the love and care of everyone who came to our house. There was the first night after her accident, where I woke up at 4 am, and was sure I was dreaming. Relief flooded my body when I realized the whole thing was a dream. Wait....where am I? I am at home...Oh SHIT!!!! I think that was the worst feeling...the harsh, cold reality, hitting me, as I realized this nightmare was actually happening. The night before the wake, I just about hit my crazy place when we were going through pictures and I found a picture of me, at about 3 years of age (the picture that I posted), laying next to my mom on our couch reading to her from a box of band-aids. I began freaking out, and I just gave up. "I can't do this!!!!"
However, the next day at the wake, I was filled with an unexpected strength. I dried my tears, and proudly shed very few tears throughout that evening. I manned my post at the funeral home as over 1,000 people flowed in to pay their respects to her, and to offer their love and support to our family. I never left my place in line, there were so many people to see, so many to talk to. In a sick and twisted way, I actually enjoyed the wake, since there were people who came that I had not seen for years. I didn't eat, didn't use the restroom, I stood for the entire 6+ hours, in the same spot. My sister and I would giggle every now and then when someone came through that we knew Mom didn't care for. Returning home, to dad's (where we spent the entire week), though, felt empty, lonely. The wake was such a lively event, it seemed so wrong to come home without her.
The funeral, also, was an event where I found strength. Yes, I cried at the funeral, but I was not inconsolable. I found strength, and I knew where it came from...it came from her. I remember the music from the funeral, and one song, in particular, which was played during the processional. It was haunting. I have not heard it since, but when I think about it, it gives me goose bumps. The burial was emotional...Mom was cremated and her urn (a nice wooden box) was placed inside of a vault about the size of a carry-on suitcase. We placed a rose (Jes and I each kept one and buried one with her), a rosary, her deck of Nertz cards (our game we played every other Sunday), and her leather biker hat. There were other items in there, too, although I can't remember what they were. I remember my aunt breaking down at the cemetary, and trying hard to hold in my emotions (once I start...I don't stop). It was bitterly cold that day, there was an ice storm earlier that morning, and the wind was brutal. I tried to keep thinking about how cold I was, as opposed to the horrible reason for being out there.
10 years...seems like it has been the blink of an eye, yet, at the same time, I find myself wondering, it's only been 10 years? These years have passed so quickly, yet so slowly. My life has changed in so many ways in the past 10 years, and the presence of my mom is now a big "I wonder" question as opposed to actually missing her. I wonder what relationship she would have had with my kids, would she be the cool grandma that I could pawn my kids off to at least one weekend a month (WISHFUL THINKING--haha)? Would all three of my kids feel a close bond to her, or would one of them share something special with just her? Would she be caught dead wearing a "#1 Grandma" embroidered sweatshirt? (doubtful...highly doubtful--anyone who knew her should be giggling at that one)
I remember the day before the accident, she and I spent the entire day together. We had such a great time together, visiting and laughing. We were at a birthday party for my cousins in the early afternoon, and I remember wanting to go sit by her feet so she would play with my hair. I thought to myself, "geez, you are 23 years old, and you still want your mom to play with your hair?" In the interest of looking mature, I decided against it, and kept my seat on the couch opposite her, as she discussed the fact that she was going to be a grandma (Jamie's baby, Nathan, was due in 3 months). "I am not old enough to be a grandma" was her mantra. After the birthday party, we went back home to Watkins, and had such a great time visiting. We talked and laughed, sitting in the kitchen. She was sitting on her barstool (the one on the right), and I sat on top of the counter. I left at about 5:00, and she walked me to my car. She borrowed me some cassette tapes, and gave me a hug. She stood in the driveway as I left, watching me go. My memory of that moment is that she was waving at me, but I can't be sure that was actually the case. I had no idea it would be the last time I would ever see her.
I spoke to her on the phone later that evening, and at the end of the conversation, there was an awkward pause. For those who didn't know her, she was not always demonstrative with her emotions (shocking...). So about 50% of the time, at the end of a phone call, she would say "I love you," and about 50% of the time, there was an awkward pause. This phone call was the awkward pause. I laughed after I hung up the phone, muttered, "chicken shit", and didn't think any more about it.
The next morning, Ed and I had taken the day off of work, and we were just going to whatever we felt like doing. We were getting ready to go to St. Cloud to shop around a bit, and we were planning to go to Sibley State park to go hiking (it was a mild February morning--a Monday), when I received the phone call. We were about 10 minutes from leaving home, and we didn't have cell phones at the time. We could have potentially been gone all day...I have often wondered what that would have been like. Dad called to let me know that Mom was killed in a car accident. When Dad called, I immediately knew something was wrong, and I was prepared to hear that my Grandma Loch had passed away. So I was very confused because I thought Grandma (his mom) was in a car accident, which was bizarre because she never left her apartment. After Dad clarified, and I realized it was my mom who died, I was speechless. It was not how you would think it would be...you would think I would have screamed, thrown the phone, and collapsed in tears, but no, I had no words (which is rare). I gathered my thoughts, and said, "OK...well....just let me know when the wake and funeral are, and I'll be there". WHAT???? Looking back, it seems crazy that I was actually planning to carry on with my day, as if a distant relative had just died. " Oh, great Uncle Frank died? OK, sure, well, yep, I'll be at the wake on Wednesday, but I gotta run to the mall now." Dad actually had to ask me, "could you come home?" Oh...home...yeah...that's probably what I should do...hm-mmm, OK, sure.
I don't know when the tears started, but they didn't start until I got home. I was so awkward in the car, I would say things to Ed like, "I sure will miss her..." I guess no one knows how to behave in these instances. Looking back, I was clearly in absolute shock and I was very confused. Once the tears started, it was like you would imagine, they didn't stop for three days. We had many decisions to make that day...what to do with the body? Open casket? Closed casket? Cremation? To anyone reading this: Please make sure your loved ones know what you want! It was horrible to try to make these enormous decisions in the midst of our shock and raw grief. In the end, we chose cremation. Mom would not have wanted her body on display for all to see (her hair and makeup would have been all wrong!!). She was also fearfully claustrophobic, and none of us felt right burying her body in a casket underground. We settled on cremation, and if we wanted to see her, we would have to go either that day or early the next. I chose not to see her body afterward because I wanted my final memory of her to be what I had seen the day before, her standing in the driveway as I pulled away in my car. I wanted to remember her face when I hugged her good-bye in the patio. I didn't want to see the cold, lifeless expression I can only imagine she wore. I didn't really want to know much of anything, where the accident happened, what she was wearing, what items were in her purse, the extent of her bodily injuries. I had enough to deal with to comprehend that she was gone. I didn't need all of the extra information.
I will spare some of the details of the day of and day after her death because much of it is a blur. There was such an outpouring from the community, I was so overwhelmed by the love and care of everyone who came to our house. There was the first night after her accident, where I woke up at 4 am, and was sure I was dreaming. Relief flooded my body when I realized the whole thing was a dream. Wait....where am I? I am at home...Oh SHIT!!!! I think that was the worst feeling...the harsh, cold reality, hitting me, as I realized this nightmare was actually happening. The night before the wake, I just about hit my crazy place when we were going through pictures and I found a picture of me, at about 3 years of age (the picture that I posted), laying next to my mom on our couch reading to her from a box of band-aids. I began freaking out, and I just gave up. "I can't do this!!!!"
However, the next day at the wake, I was filled with an unexpected strength. I dried my tears, and proudly shed very few tears throughout that evening. I manned my post at the funeral home as over 1,000 people flowed in to pay their respects to her, and to offer their love and support to our family. I never left my place in line, there were so many people to see, so many to talk to. In a sick and twisted way, I actually enjoyed the wake, since there were people who came that I had not seen for years. I didn't eat, didn't use the restroom, I stood for the entire 6+ hours, in the same spot. My sister and I would giggle every now and then when someone came through that we knew Mom didn't care for. Returning home, to dad's (where we spent the entire week), though, felt empty, lonely. The wake was such a lively event, it seemed so wrong to come home without her.
The funeral, also, was an event where I found strength. Yes, I cried at the funeral, but I was not inconsolable. I found strength, and I knew where it came from...it came from her. I remember the music from the funeral, and one song, in particular, which was played during the processional. It was haunting. I have not heard it since, but when I think about it, it gives me goose bumps. The burial was emotional...Mom was cremated and her urn (a nice wooden box) was placed inside of a vault about the size of a carry-on suitcase. We placed a rose (Jes and I each kept one and buried one with her), a rosary, her deck of Nertz cards (our game we played every other Sunday), and her leather biker hat. There were other items in there, too, although I can't remember what they were. I remember my aunt breaking down at the cemetary, and trying hard to hold in my emotions (once I start...I don't stop). It was bitterly cold that day, there was an ice storm earlier that morning, and the wind was brutal. I tried to keep thinking about how cold I was, as opposed to the horrible reason for being out there.
There was a lot of talk about signs. Everyone, it seemed, was getting a sign from mom. My grandpa saw deer happily bounding along-side of his car in the ditch, and he knew it was her--she was free and laughing, as he said. I thought long and hard about my sign...what should it be? How would I know? One morning at about 4 am, I was going to get up and play a game of solitare, and if I won my very first game, I would know she was with me. But, reason got the best of me. Winning a game of solitare could take me upwards of 2 hours. I would have been crushed if I would have lost. Friday, the day after the funeral, Ed and I returned home to Becker. I decided I would give the solitare game a try. Through tears, I dealt every last card to the top, and won that game!
There were other signs, too...When Ed and I returned home, our clock on the wall was stopped at 7:48...the exact time of her death. A few months later, I wore one of her dress jackets (I ended up with a lot of her clothes) to a wedding. I remember thinking, "wouldn't it be cool if there was a letter to me from her in the pocket?" Yes, I know, cheesy, unrealistic, etc. I donned the coat, reached my hands into the pockets, and pulled out a small handful of stuff. There was a safety pin, some lint, some herbalife tablets (haha!!!), and 2 valentine hearts, one that read "kiss kiss" and one that read "love you". Those hearts are still in that coat pocket, and everytime I wear it, I pull out those hearts and smile.
One time, when I was in college, she and dad were driving me back to school, and the song "If I Were You" by Collin Raye was on the radio. Again, being very non-demonstrative, all she said was "this song reminds me of you". After she died, I couldn't remember the song, and I listened to all of her Collin Raye tapes (yes, tapes), and finally found it. The lyrics are "If I were you I'd promise to live life for all it's worth. Take all that you've been given, and leave your mark upon this earth. Trust your heart to show you everything you'll ever need." The rest is love-y, and sappy (yeah, the stuff I wrote is cheesy, too...). That song is on my i-pod, along with about 600 songs. But almost every time I am out for a walk or on a bike ride, I hear that song. (I know she is not up in heaven controlling the shuffle programming of my i-pod, but it always gives me comfort to hear that song)
My mom was a very strong woman. I can count on one hand the times I had seen her cry, and if you take away the times the crying was fake, I would bet there was only one or two times where I saw her cry. I chose to borrow her strength, to do what I think she would do in order to pull through this mess. I think that strength is still with me, and still a part of me. I often refer to her (what I think she would say/do) in certain situations. And I feel her presence with me, guiding me, leading me.
If any of you want to know how it feels for me to live without my mom, my closest friend, and the one person who knew me better than I knew myself, go to playlist.com (I love that website!!) and listen to "Mama's Arms" by Joshua Kadison. Every time I hear that song, I feel like those words speak to how it feels. That even now, 10 years later, and as a 33 year old woman, I would give up everything I own to feel her arms around me. I would give it all to have her here, for her to be that person to advise me on raising my kids, to be the person to honestly tell me if my haircut was "unflattering" (yes, heard that a time or two), or if a pair of jeans makes me look fat (yep, heard that a few times...I'll never forget the argument we had over my Esprit jeans). I would give it all to have 3-hour chat-fests with her, and to have chick-day again (every other Sunday, we would spend the entire day together, watching movies, playing Nertz--our favorite card game, and visiting).
There is a part of my soul that now sits empty, and it forever will be empty. There is a link in my chain missing, and there are times I feel adrift, with no guiding hand. But, when I feel that way, I look to her guidance...It is always there. I have devoted my life to living it the way she would want me to. To put people ahead of money or status, to follow my heart, and to simply do the right thing.
This is a deep post, but it is truly a reflection of where I am at today. I will be thinking of her most of the day tomorrow (it is Adella's dedication tomorrow, so there will be a nice distraction). If you are reading this, take time to think about your family. I was so thrilled that I spent that day before she died with her. It couldn't have been more perfect, and I have no regrets. I left nothing unsaid, there was no tension between us. It was the perfect ending to our relationship here on earth.
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