Crazy loud...

I hurt today more than I have in months. Like my insides have been ripped out. It doesn't matter how they fell out, its the after math. I struggle today with picking up the pieces. I want to sit and lick my wounds. Something I am not prone to doing. Sometimes it doesn't seem to matter how big the picture is, it's realizing you can never please everyone. even in grief. It's my pain. It's my path. And while it may have not been ment to beat me with words or to slash at me, I am an easy target.  I also realize that in a few days I will be able to find a compromise and do so with love and joy.  But for now, I feel the loss as if it happened yesterday. I want to shout and scream that If only he had lived. But he didn't and how long are we going to argue about doing things the "old way" He is not physically here!! I won't stand still and live my life around what if he had lived, or what would he do if he was here. I will not shut off myself, shut out my heart to love. I will not stop happiness from flowing. I will not do that to my kids and I will not do that to this family. It doesn't honor him in any way.  While the rage and frustration of what is,  boils up inside of me and wants to just explode all over the situation doesn't do anyone any good.
   The fact remains the same., I hurt. I miss him. I wish to God he would just step down from the heavens and talk to me. I don't want some one else's opinion about what they think is right. I want Pete. There is only one me. And how it hurts me, is my path and my lesson.. I don't feel that I am entitled by any means. I am just tired of being the punching bag for when things go wrong. Whether is is by my own mind or by someone else,  grief is hard. It's all hard. My hurt is not worse than any one else's. . It still hurts 2.5 years later. It still hurts, and moving forward is not easy, but I do it for Pete, I do it for my children.  To grow, to live, to love, to see the beauty of what once was and what is now. However on this day I feel so sad and so lonely for him that I want to shout until I am hoarse.  I want to run so fast away from all this hurt. leave the parts of me that are aching and scarred on the sidewalk. The parts of me that are full of anger and frustration. Just run To feel only the my ragged breath inside my lungs. Wishing for rain to pour from the sky washing those parts on the ground soothing the red and raw, leaving them peaceful and cool. So that on my way back to where I dropped them I can pick them up, dry them off and put them back in place. Refreshed and ready to start again.
   I know that in time I will get out of my corner, take a deep breath. I will turn around to the music that is on full blast that vibrates me to the core. I will do it with love in my heart, and a sparkle in my eye. With kids in hand and one on my hip. I know that through all the crazy loud there is a soft sound in my right ear. It's the sound of Angel wings. It's those wings that wrap around us, it's that hidden strength the propels us forward. To honor him and life he wants us to live. For he lives through each of us.   

Crazy Reflections....

Many people find funerals as a time of reflection. One remembers the life of that person and how they changed your life or changed those people around you. Often people think about their own mortality. For me, it has brought up things that I have blocked out about Pete's funeral. It seems the more I remember about the day of his service, the more I remember other things about the days before.  I have often thought to myself, "Why can't I remember those things?" Now that I am having these flashback moments, I wish I wasn't seeing them and feeling them again.  However I do feel blessed not to have the same reaction. That whole feeling of "Why am I here, and How can this be happening?"  Although, I do still have that disbelief feeling  as I watch these memories replay in my mind of "how did I really stand there and not fall down?" 

   My mom's husband passed away on May 26th.  His memorial service was held on May 31st. It was a nice service. The music was beautiful and words that the minister spoke of, a life in reflection.  I thought at the time that I was prepared for the funeral. Wrapping myself in a protective wall around my heart and soul as to not take on any one else's grief. Being the empathetic and sensitive being that I am, I have to prepare and protect, to remain in the present moment. So that I could be there to support my mom in her time of loss and heartache. I was doing a great job at first. I walked into the parlor of the church. I said hello to my sisters and gave my mom a hug. I gave my condolences to his side of the family. I smiled and nodded, trying to remain light and cheery. I was doing great until my eyes fell upon an 8 week old baby and my step faltered. My breath caught, my heart skipped a beat, and I remembered....  It was like falling down a hole similar to Alice in Wonderland. 

   All the sudden, there I was. Standing in a purple, white and black outfit resting my hands on my big belly. Standing next to a life size picture of Pete, and next to that life size photo, was a closed casket. Even now my heart races at this memory. I want to run away, as if I am not seeing it. Like in a scary part of a movie wishing to hit the fast forward button but I can't find the remote. I stood there smiling and shaking hands. My eyes empty. I would see people that I know I knew but I couldn't remember their names. I was standing next to a chair that everyone kept trying to get me to sit in. I couldn't understand why they wanted me to sit so badly. As if sitting was going to make it any easier. I would still be inside of that damn mortuary beside my husband who should have been alive! Why the hell would it matter if I sat down. I can see it so clear now. And yet I cant tell you who was there. I still sometimes will see people I haven't seen in a few years and they will mention being at his funeral and I will be like "You were there?" Where was I? 

      While all of these things passed through my mind in mere seconds, it felt like another life. I pulled in my heart, my thoughts, and did the best I could to slap that wall back up. That wall that now had a crack in it, right down the middle. I put on a smile and walked into the church with my sisters, family and close friends. I sat there and tried not to listen. Of course one knows what happens when you try hard not to do something. You listen and think anyway. Finally the service was over and back into the parlor to meet, greet, and thank. This time I stayed on one side of the parlor and tried not to wander over close to the adorable and yet tiny baby on the other side of the room.  As if avoiding her was going to make it any better. The problem was, that it had nothing to do with the baby. It was me. It was my memories that I have been running from. Or blocking out and refusing to see. But really I don't think that's it either. I was not refusing to see them. I just wasn't strong enough to absorb them. I guess that says something. I am strong enough now to "see" them and feel them. 

    I came home after the service changed my clothes and hugged my kids. I talked to J about my experience and the tears that couldn't flow at the time of realization, now were falling freely. J held my hand as I talked about reliving my moments. The fear is still there, the sad, the despair, and some of that terrible creepy feeling I had. That I Would not stand too close to that casket. I mean I didn't even want to look at it. I remember thinking "Why, he is my husband. My whole world, my other half." I know why, I couldn't absorb it. I couldn't let the reality touch me. It was too much and I was trying my best to make it to term with this baby.   

    One of the major things I realized however, is that no matter when you remember or how far out you get from the Angelversary, those moments will always be hard. They will always be scary. Which surprises me and baffles me at the same time. I am happy now. The kids and I have come through an amazing, life altering and epic experience. My kids and I feel as if we are finally healing. Why the pain? Why be scared?  For me I feel that I am figuring it out. Its scary for me because, I couldn't feel the scared at the time. I couldn't feel anything other than complete, utter, and total loss. He died and I did too. I was just a shell of a woman. I looked like Kathryn, but she wasn't there, Not. At. All.  I was that song "When you're lost and alone and you're sinking like a stone, carry on, carry on" (Fun. "Carry on")   It's because I can feel again, I can live again, I can laugh again, I can breathe, sing, and feel joy again.  That's why. I can feel, so I can heal.  I am in a place that is safe. My daughter can look at me and say "I miss Daddy" and I can say "I know Bug, I do too." But it doesn't break us the same way it did before. We can still miss him, but we don't have that same terrible gut wrenching moments of complete despair that we are all constantly feeling and thinking. I can hold her close and whisper in her ear, I know your Daddy would be so proud of you.  These are things I never thought I would be able to say to her or to him without throwing up, from the fact that I had to say them at all.  It's knowing that we can, heal, grow and learn to love, in all aspects of our life. 

    These two funerals I have been to, they were a month a part. They have brought up many emotions, and memories that I thought they wouldn't.  I should know better to always expect the unexpected. And while these last few days I have been pushing out my thoughts and trying to push forward at a "gung ho" pace. It's in this moment that I can see what a blessing these were in disguise. I learned to feel new and old things. I learned that I could go to a funeral and not be a big panic mess. (which is what I always thought would happen) And I learned a new form of healing. 

    In every breath I will always think of Pete. With every smile and milestone my children make and reach I think of him. I see him in them, and I can smile.  My heart still breaks when I think of a moment that he is not physically here to see it. I still long to touch his face, hold his hand, or rub his goatee. However I am so blessed to have loved him and unfortunately to have lost him. I know though that in every breath I take from this moment on, I am healing.  A,P, and CL, are healing.  With every memory that is brought forward, with every tear that drops from our eyes, and with every time we open our hearts a little more we accept love. Love from a man who once was, Love from a man who is now, combined with the four of us into one. We will reflect, live, and heal.  

    

      

Flying Crazy...

I wrote this while flying to Las Vegas. I am just now getting a chance to post it.....

Nothing like missing my alarm, and receiving a phone call from my ride, that she is in the driveway.  Maybe that should have been my first clue that something about the day was off.  I was running around my room at 4:30 am trying to find something to wear. I felt like everything I tried on made me look dumpy. Finally I put on my old "stand by" At least my jeans were new. However they do need to be hemmed or else I need to grow. Maybe taller shoes would be better. But I didn't feel like wearing heels to hoof it all over the airport, at a sprint. So I opted for my dressier tennis shoes, if there really is such a thing. Alas everything is ready and zipped into the suitcase. Throw my make up into my purse. Since I am not driving I can put it on in the car. That way I don't look completely like I just rolled out of bed. Off to kiss the kids good bye.
      Kissing the kids good bye has been something that I have been dreading. At 5am they are still in a sleepy state. I tip toe into the boys room. Aryanna is on the floor in her pink princess sleeping bag, Cl is in his bed and Petey in his. I whisper in Aryanna and Petey's ears, I Love you so much. Be good and help with Chase Leo. I will be home in a few days. I lean over CL and give him lots of kisses and whisper I love you!  I hug my mother in law, and give J as kiss. I pull my suitcase behind me and out into the driveway with my friend patiently waiting for me in the car.  Load my bag, close the trunk, get in the car and away we go to the airport.
    Arrive at the airport, check in, print my boarding pass. Thank goodness for being able to check in via my iphone. I have about an hour and a half to kill before needing to be at my gate. So, I wander around to find something to eat and some cold medicine. I managed to get CL's cold.  For me I enjoy being at the airport. All the people coming and going. I feel like a grown up when I am there. I know odd right? I only have me to look out for. I feel very independent, and in some ways very proud of myself. Which may sound Crazy... but for me I never did anything with out Pete. I never would have gone on an airplane without him. I never would have thought that I would be flying off to a Global Business conference.  That I would have my own business, or have the opportunity to be a part of something so amazing. Being at the airport is almost my way of stepping back into who Kathryn is. As if I am looking into a picture window of my own life. Here I sit, with three healthy happy kids at home. My mother in law is with them, so I know they are safe and will have an amazing time. I look back in my mind to where I have been, to where I am now, and I see strength and growth. Along with Guidance from God and Pete.So I guess one could say the airport is my gown up spot.
     I realize that my time for reflection is over and I need to get moving. Off to the security check point. Luckily the lines aren't long and I make it to the other side without much trouble. Other than the fact that I had to give the security people my water. Since I can't take water from the outside onto the plane. Once on the other side of check point I buy more water, some cold medicine, some Kleenex, and a People magazine. Finally, ready to board. The flight attendant starts the boarding call and we all line up in reference to our boarding pass. It sort of reminds me of cattle in a cattle chute.  Once I am on the plane it is time to find a seat. This is the first time for me to be on a plane that is open seating. I am hoping for a window seat. After scanning the seats I come upon a window seat next to a nice young couple. However I now have to put my carry on in the "overhead bin" and crawl across the nice couple to the window seat. After the excuse me's and thank you so much for your help. I am buckled in and ready to fly.
    We are sitting on the run way and I make small talk with the woman next to me. I ask her if she is from Las  Vegas or if they are visiting. She says they are from LA but have recently moved to Indy and are headed to Vegas to celebrate their wedding anniversary.   After listening to her I realize something that hits me like a fist to the gut. Today is my wedding anniversary. It would have been 9 years.  I got hot. And restless. I felt the anxiety creeping in and the feeling of wanting to shout! "Oh my gosh...Today? Why today?" I mean I remembered that, when I booked the flight and I kept thinking 'what a great way to start a new beginning. New business, new relationships, new moving forward. However, it was in this instant I found myself wanting to run around the plane. That feeling that I really needed some air.  Why hadn't it occurred to me sooner?  It never settled. I mean, I thought about it, but the thought didn't actually touch me or absorb into me. In this moment the planning is over, the schedules have been written, clothes packed, orders in my carry on. House semi clean not as much as I had wanted, but at some point  there just isn't enough time. All the preparing is behind me. I sit here in this minute having a mild panic attack over just absorbing my reality.  It takes my breath, and it hurts, still. I mean why wouldn't it? I still find myself surprised. I wished I could have cried, but the tears wouldn't come. The plane started to move and the anxiety increased. As we got faster and faster I kept feeling the knots in my stomach get tighter and tighter. The bafflement of the situation. I love to fly. I have been looking forward to being on the pane and in the air, and here I am with this rage of emotion of nervousness and anxiety.
       My mind wandered to the kids and missing them, wishing I could hold them and kiss their sweet faces. I was home sick and I was only 100 feet off the ground.  Why? fear? Guilt?   Sometimes I feel like people are waiting for me to fail so they can say "I told you so." I just want to live and be free from this box. I don't ever want to forget Pete, or for anyone to think that I am trying to do that in anyway. I just don't want to constantly have this "widow tag" hanging around me all the time. Yes, I am a widow. But it doesn't define me.  It's not who I am, it's where I have been.  If you have known a widow or are a widow, you know the crazy you have been through or have been around. Its a survival word. I am a widow. I have lost the essence of who I was, the life I had, and the future I thought I was meant to have.  I may have lost all of those things. But I gained a new perspective. I gained a new identity, a new normal, and now, a new life for myself and my children. I have learned that impossible is possible, and that beauty can come from something tragic.  I know and feel that outside of the "widow and loss" box, I can peer around it and embrace the fun and light that we are meant to have. The fun that Pete would want for us to have.  To feel it, and absorb in and bring it into my being and into my children's lives as well.  I know my Pete, and what he would have wanted  for  us.  I just wish others wouldn't be so strong with their idea's of what's right and what's wrong according to them. They aren't any more of an expert than me at grieving.
       Yet, it makes me wonder, why can't I just say "Don't you want to see whats on the other side of grief? There is laughter, beauty, and life. And really Thank Goodness!!!  I need joy in my life. I need it for my kids to show them the beauty out of something horrid. What's wrong with saying  what I believe is right for us as a family? It may not be what you would have done, but for me it is how I  move forward. To change, to grow and to live. I don't want to stand still, and I am done with being surrounded in darkness. I still have moments that take my breath, but luckily I am at a place now where they are just moments and not constant. And luckily these moments aren't filled with the other extreme of not feeling anything and being completely numb. That blank spot in my memory where there is no computing. Remembering a time when there was too much crazy, too much sadness, and just too much. I couldn't see it, I couldn't absorb it.
   I told someone last night that I feel like I am finally waking up to my life. I couldn't see it before. I would meet people, but they didn't register in my vision of actually being there. Memories of things I can only vaguely remember if I push myself to do it.  I find myself thinking, that while moving forward is how you get through it,  I do have moments where I would rather just go to sleep. Just for a little bit. To rejuvenate, to revive. I can remember when things with Pete would be too over stimulating, and I would just check out. I would find a chair and sleep.  I find myself in this moment of remembering my anniversary along with those blank moments of wanting to sleep and just check out for a little bit.   I have been sleeping on the plane. So peaceful up on the clouds, but with every decrease in altitude I am feeling more anxious. Like again coming back into my reality. The worry, the scared, the materialistic ideas of not fitting in. I feel again like crying but can't find the tears. They seem to be lodged under my anxiety. I need to change my focus. To remember why I am here on this plane.
   Today 9 years ago I was at the beginning of one amazing journey. A journey I would not have traded ever! Although, I never thought I would be here without him. In this 9th year I am at the beginning of a new journey. To search and find my path. What I stand for, what I want for my future, for my kids, and for our family. I am so grateful for the timing. When I step off this plane, adventure, and personal growth await me. I can't wait to see how this experience changes me emotionally and mentally. It's been one crazy journey so far... but I move forward in faith  and in love, but most of all with Pete. I know he is standing behind me with a smile. I know I will achieve greatness for me, and, for the legacy he left behind.
    

A Crazy glance at an amazing woman...

My Nana passed away on April 29,2012 She was 89 years old.  I wrote this for her and read it at her service yesterday. I wanted to share it with you.

Nana was brilliant. She did so many things to help others. One of her amazing gifts was teaching. She could teach in a way that kids and adults could understand. She taught me. Which is saying something. For those of you who don’t know me very well. I have a tendency to be a bit impatient, along with being very distractible. Especially when it came to subjects, such as math.  I hated math with a passion! My Nana, loved  math as much as I hated it. But, bless her. She took it upon herself to tutor me in math.  Nana said “math is like a puzzle, you just need to learn, how to fit the pieces together.” One summer, when I was probably in Jr. High. She would come to my house and work with me, in math and in history. I remember, she made a map of the different countries and put them on poster board. Then she got stickers (she loved stickers) that were of  kids dressed in clothing that represented the country they came from. After we would study about a country we would put the corresponding sticker on the corresponding  country.  I always enjoyed this part of the lesson. It was when we came to the math part, that I would start swinging my feet or want to go and get 18 cups of water. But, Nana would rein me in. She had that “School teacher look” usually that left me shaking in my socks. When that look came out I knew that my trips to the kitchen were over and that we needed to get down to business. Nana was patient with me, and Nana was kind to me, when I didn’t understand. While I may not have understood it then, I understand it now. She wanted me to succeed. It didn’t matter if I never loved math the way she did. She wanted me to know that I was smart and with her help I could accomplish anything. 

        Nana, not only had a passion for teaching math but she also had a passion for teaching music as well.  When I was in my mid 20’s I wanted to take up  playing the piano, again. So, I asked Nana if she would be up for teaching me. I would drive to Nana’s house once a week. I would sit at her piano and she would go over all the scales and the pieces she wanted me to work on. My favorite part of our lesson was when we would play a duet. Nana loved to play duets. I think that  was also her favorite part of our lesson. I loved to watch her play. She had such a light touch on the keys that I totally understood the phrase tickle the ivories. Her passion and excitement for music was contagious. After my lessons, I was often inspired to play like Nana did.  On more than one occasion I attended her mu fi meetings. The one that I remember the most was when Nana and Shirley Humfeld would play a fun and light hearted duet. I was in awe of how the two of them could play on one piano and not bump into each other.  Nana made it look so easy. For me she portrayed a side of her talent of classical music that was whimsical and vivacious.

         As kids Nana used to drive us all over the place. From grocery shopping to taking us to piano lessons. She would drive us down town for lunch, then back to her house for sleep overs. When we were with Nana we were always well fed. Nana was a marvelous cook. However Nana often made things in small quantities. For example her choc chip cookies, (a personal favorite) were about the size of a silver dollar. So you usually had to eat twice as many to equal an actual size cookie. Nana also had “Little” things in her house. Like the worlds smallest ketchup bottle, or teeny tiny Tupperware containers. When Nana would come to our house for dinner she always brought Pepridge farms dinner rolls. These were rather tiny rolls.  Nana seemed to be drawn to all things tiny in size. Which for us, was exceptionally handy, since we all were tiny in stature.  My sisters and I started referring to things as being “nana size” We used to tease Nana about her “Nana rolls” and her “Nana size” ice cream sandwhiches. She never seemed to take offense, She would just laugh along with us.  

       Nana loved to send post cards. It was always so fun to get my own piece of mail. Often times it was hard to read her wirtitng because it too was “nana size” yet, I was still very happy to have reicieved her post card. She continued to send them to me in all stages of my life not just when I was living at home. She sent me some while I was in college and eventually when I got married. When I started having children, I remember she sent me a card in the mail telling me how excited she was to meet the new baby. ( I still have it)

         Life changes but  to me Nana always seemed timeless. Nana encouraged me always. She marveled in my children and often told me how smart she knew they were. She loved talking to Aryanna. (My oldest). I think she was drawn to her because she was very “Nana size.”  I enjoyed being with her. Whether it be lunch at Applebee’s or polishing her nails. When tragedy struck in Novemebr of 2009. I can remember my Nana calling just to say Hi. She again helped me in ways that I will never forget, and I am grateful.

         To me, It doesn’t seem real. I know that my Nana, did live a long and fruitful life. She may not have been recognized enough for all the good that she did. She may not have changed the world, but she changed my world. She changed the world for all of those who couldn’t read or write. For all of those little lives that she touched when teaching music to elementary school kids.  She inspired me,  she encouraged me, and she loved me the way only a Nana can. Thank you Nana for all that you did for me. For all the unseen things you did, and for supporting me always. I love you and feel truly blessed and grateful to have been a part of your amazing life. We celebrate you.   

New and old Crazy..

I have been meaning to blog for some time now. Yet it always seems that when I would start to write the first paragraph in my head it would be in the middle of the afternoon. Not the best time for me to blog. It's almost impossibly to write something meaningful when three kids are constantly climbing on me.  The more days that past the more I felt myself pulling farther away from my blog. Not wanting to write. instead I wanted to just live my life for a bit. Then I decided to do some cleaning. More like cleaning out of some "old" things. Old ideas I guess. Not just in the physical sense but also in mind and even in heart as well. As I did my cleaning out, I kept thinking to myself. "You need to write about this." By the time the end of the day would come, I found myself just dropping into bed. To tired to move, to tired to think, let alone type. Now that the clutter has been decluttered on the outside... and some of the dust has settled, I find myself wanting to write about my recent experience.  It feels almost like closing a chapter of old grief, only to open a new chapter of grief... This grief is new to me, and old to me. The memories are the same but the way I feel them is different. It's old crazy and new crazy all at the same time.
     Two weeks ago Aryanna asked me to get her bike out of "jenga." Some of you may know this was no small feat.  For days I had been telling her " Later Aryanna" or even " Mommy can't reach it" But I knew that I couldn't avoid it any longer. Spring had sprung, which meant kids wanting to be outside, riding bikes, blowing bubbles, and sidewalk chalk. Those are all great things. However, they are not so great things when one has to climb under, over and through the random chaos of my garage tagged as "Jenga." With the help of *J, we started what ended up being a 9 day process. We spent 9 days inside the garage. Taking things out and going through them one by one. One box after another. Things to get rid of, things to throw out, things that were meant to be kept, and things that were meant for someone else to keep. Many truck loads to the good will. Many truck loads to the dumpster.  One day I came home from taking Petey to school and there were two men standing in my driveway just looking around at all the stuff.  I came to an immediate stop in my cul de sac and was like "uh hello... what are you doing?"  They looked at me and said "How much for this?" I said... " I'm not having a garage sale.. I am cleaning out my garage!" Then they got all embarrassed "OH!" they said, So I looked at the driveway full of the many random piles, and thought well, I will show them the good will pile: it will save us a trip. So, they ended up taking a car seat and a sit and stand stroller. Believe me, they weren't the only ones who stopped to ask about the stuff in the driveway. At one point I wanted to put a sign out that said "NO, this is not a garage sale.. Keep driving!"
  This was 6 years worth of stuff. 6 years of my life with Pete, and two years without him. It was all the stuff that he had with me, and it was all of his stuff that I couldn't go through, after he died. Stuff of his that I just put in a box and put in the attic, or out in jenga, to go through at another time.  Box after box of things of his I had never seen. The questions, and the wonders. Thinking things like" Roo, what had you planned to do with 30 years of magazine subscriptions. Seriously! Why did you keep all of these magazines.. what were you going to do with them?" So many boxes that we opened were full of just magazines. Go Kart magazines, Model car magazines,  Mini Trucking magazines, Engineering magazines, Art catalogs.. really the list of magazines goes on and on. Boxes of just these magazines. Then there were questions like "When did you build this model car? Why didn't you finish it?" Those were some of the hard ones. Seeing the things he had started to build or create. Knowing that he wasn't coming back to finish them. There were boxes of pictures of people that I didn't know, and he wasn't there for me to ask "How old were you when you did this?" or "Who was this guy? How did you know him?" Some of the pictures I came across I knew who they were and it made me smile and laugh. There were things from his college years. Books, notes, and people; parts of him that I didn't know about because I hadn't met him yet.  They were like opening boxes of him. Pieces that I didn't know and wished I had.
    Not only were there things in those boxes of places and people that I never met. But, there were things in some of those boxes that I didn't know he kept. Little notes that I had written to him when we were first dating. Pictures of us, notes that he had written to me and then scribbled out. At one point I found his glove box from his truck. It was locked.. which again I found myself asking "hey Roo, why would you lock it, it's not even in your car. :)"  We broke into it, and I found spark plugs, a tire gauge, a mileage log and a poem he started writing to me. A poem about the way I made him feel. It were these notes that I had so wanted to find right after he died. I can remember writing about and thinking about notes that I knew he had to have written. I wanted so badly to see something, feel something, hold something that he had written to me about the way he loved me. But I couldn't find them then. I was looking in the wrong places. I was looking in places that I thought if it were me, I would leave them. Not where he would leave them. He life and his creations took place in that garage. I am not saying that these things were just out in the open. I had to dig for them, but I found them. I knew they were there, I just wasn't meant to find them then. I was meant to find them two weeks ago.  It was after he died that I needed to just go by faith that he loved me. To remember then how hard he worked to stay alive. But it was in those 9 days did I learn so much about Pete the layers of him that I knew and yet I didn't know the depths of it all.
   There are two boxes that stand out the most to me. And I have been through  many boxes. The first box was of things that I had kept of Pete and I when we were first dating. Ticket stubs to a baseball game, notes, a photograph of us, just random odds and ends. I remember sitting there opening that box and taking things out and just looking at them. After going through that box the tears came. There was no warning,, they just started falling from my eyes. Tears that were warm and wet rolling down my cheeks like drops of rain. I stood up and walked into *J's arms and I stood there with him. Nothing to say. No words, just memories that flooded through me and out of me. It was these memories  that were now tears dripping down my face.  I wiped my face, took a deep breath and said.. "bring me another box."
     It wasn't until the next night that we started in on the boxes in the attic. We waited until evening to work in the attic. By night time it had started to cool down so the attic wasn't like a sauna.  *J said to me "these boxes say wedding on them.. do you want to go through them?" I knew these boxes were up there. I had been prepared for it all day. So I said "Bring em on down. I'm ready.   The first box of "wedding stuff" wasn't too bad. I was feeling confident. It was the next box that did me in. I opened the lid and looked inside. Everything in it was wrapped in newspaper. So I picked up the first object and started to unwrap. As I opened the last piece, I sucked in the whole room. I felt light headed. It's that feeling you get when you watch a scary movie and something catches you off guard. The feeling where your whole body goes completely numb and yet is all tingly, its scary but you can't look away.  It was a figurine I had given him after Petey was born. It was one of those Willow Tree figurines of a Mother and a Father holding a baby. It felt hot in my hands as if it was burning a hole in my palm. I carefully dropped it into the box. The memories of what was in that box started coming into my mind  like the opening of flood gates. I remembered. I knew what was in this box. I knew what was wrapped inside of those newspapers. But I couldn't stop myself. I was unwrapping them, I had to see them, I didn't want to, but I couldn't look away. Another Willow Tree was a father holding a baby on his lap. Another Willow Tree of a couple dancing. There was a maroon bear that had a bow in her hair that Pete had given to me for Valentines day. I finally stopped, I wrapped up the last item put it back in the box put the lid on and said "put this box in the keep pile, and hand me another one." On it went. The next box was of his clothes. I pulled out my favorites and things that I knew he loved. I would pull out the things I wanted and put them in a box close the lid on the rest and move onto another box. I was on auto pilot. I didn't let myself feel. I had felt enough for that night. The stimulation was too great, the loss to monumental, and yet I felt like I was just thinking, :just one more box and then I am done, like if i could just keep swimming I might reach the shore. Just one more box, just one more box.
   I finally went to bed. The next morning after taking the kids to school. I looked at *J and said "I can't go through another box of his today. I want you to go through it, If you see something I might like pull it out for me. But I can't go through another box today. I had, had it. I just couldn't stand to be inside that garage any longer. I needed to get out. Go through another section. I didn't want to look through the things, and feel the loss of the life I had before. To feel, to think, to wonder, to worry, to whisper, to question. I couldn't process, any. more.  Maybe that is why it has taken me almost two and a half weeks for me to write about it.
      After 9 days in the garage. I now have a very nice and orderly garage. Jenga is no more. My attic is even clean. Aryanna, Petey, and Chase Leo can now get all their toys out without the fear of something falling on their heads or something crashing to the ground. It may still be the same garage but it does't look the same. It doesn't feel the same..
    The way my body handles stimulation over load is for my skin to break out into hives. It's like I have so many emotions and toxins all at once. It doesn't know what to do. So since I can't seem to let out the emotional side of it, it does it for me.  These days I am feeling extra crazy and extra itchy. However, I feel good about the things I went through. I made it!  I am still breathing! I am not a puddle in the corner. *J didn't have to resuscitate  me. I still made dinner, and bathed the kids, and played outside, and did the laundry, and fed the dog. I cleaned out the garage!!  But I also cleaned out my stuff too. The things I didn't need to hold onto. I just kept thinking of all the people I was blessing while getting rid of the things I no longer needed to hold on to. It's the standing on the other side of it that makes me go "Ya know.. I didn't break."  It was hard emotionally and physically, but I learned some things I didn't know. And I found the things that I needed to find. Not only did I find the love and passion of a man that I loved so deeply. I found the proof, to the things that I already knew. I held them in my hand and I breathed in the scent of them. I felt like I had found the key. But it's the realization, that I already had the key. I knew he loved me and yet I didn't know to the depths of his love for me. But, it's finding those things of his and finding all the ways that he loved me. It makes me feel like maybe, I am not so crazy after all. I was crazy before, during, and after the time he knew me, and he loved me anyway. I was lost and vulnerable. I didn't know how to stand on my own. But he saw it in me then, and I know he still see's it in me now. Because I see it now too. I just couldn't see it before.
   After losing him I couldn't see anything. However, after going through all of those boxes, feeling those emotions, and those memories with such intensity. I see a lot more that I ever did before. I am proud of me, I am proud of *J and I am proud of Pete.  I may be the same kind of crazy, but it's mixed in with new crazy. It may also be the same old grief but it has a new flare to it. It's like layers and some of them are crazier and weepier than others. But, I need them all to make it through. This journey, this crazy, this Pete, and this life are what make up the essence of me. I am realizing that I have the infinity of strength. It's written inside me,and  it's written on me. Pete knew it, and now I do too.

Crazy worth?

If Pete would have just lived... What? Would I  have learned anything about myself ? I wouldn't know what it was like to bleed from the inside out and still remain breathing. I wouldn't have had to watch my kids suffer so much from the loss of their best friend and Daddy? I would still have him, to look into his eyes, and hear his laughter. But he didn't live. he died.
   Today feels like the kind of day where I feel like all my hard work at moving forward feels like I am standing still. Trying to constantly look at the positive can wear a person out at times. The constant motion just to keep going, to learn, to grow, to change to make it different and make a difference for that matter.. to remember who I was. to grieve the lost and try to just keep pulling, pushing, and tugging on those around me to keep moving forward. Cause there is no going back. I can't just keep re living those days in the hospital.. the days after that I only remember in fragments or from memories of what others tell me. I have to at some point just put them in a box and Label them 2009.
  Today I am angry, sad , and feelings of being worthless and not measuring up surround me. It seems that no amount of telling me that I am loved, will I hear it. cause right now I can;t feel it. I feel irrational, and lost a bit. like I just can't continue on today. I can't pick up the house, I can't keep in organized, and can't even paret, I feel angry at myself. and really that's what it boils down to. Angry at myself;  and really needing to figure out how to forgive myself. It's no ones fault, no one did anything, it's that I can't hear the love, I can't feel the love until I learn to love me.. And right now I don't see anything when I look in the mirror that is worth accepting of love... And weather its being mad at Pete, or for all the emotions and fears that I never allowed myself to feel, because there wasn't time before. I had to take care of my kids and stay pregnant. Then it was all about taking care of an infant and keep moving, and keep doing,  and learning how to do it on my own. And take care of the house and pay the bills, and worry about the money, and where it's coming from, and where its going, and, and, and. Its  not until recently that I have found love again and realizing how much I had missed it. With love comes fear, fears that are irrational or maybe only rational to someone like me who knows what its like to lose the love of your whole world.
     I loved Pete so much, I needed Pete in away that may not have been the healthiest. And I thought that he had saved me. And when he died I thought that I would NEVER have that again. I would never be safe again. I was so completely unaware of how I would live my life without him. Yet here I am two years later living my life. Being in charge of all the things that he did, along with doing the house and being a mother, a friend, a sister, a girlfriend a co worker the list goes on. Things that I never thought I could do, or would do. And while I should be so proud... it's in this moment I don't feel any of those.
  I know it is not rational. But it"s the hurt inside that take over and kills the rational side of me. It makes me stand still and feel like a concrete statue in my living room. I yell, and cry, and scream at myself on the inside. I berate myself and tell myself over and over that I am a bad parent. And the worthlessness creeps in and makes me feel like I just don't matter. Or that if Pete had  just lived... But that in itself is a whole other crisis. What if he had lived. Who know what all of the medicines and sickness would have done to him. Who is to say he would have been the same man.. and if he couldn't do the same things, that he had always loved, or if he couldn't move in the same manner he always had, would have changed him. Made him frustrated and mad to be in the position that he was in. Who is to say weather I wouldn't be grieving, but over the loss of a great man who once was and in his place was a man who looked just like Pete but acted nothing like him. The questions of if only Pete had lived... would he have really lived in the same manner? Or the question of What if he had healed completely and been the same happy go lucky man.. what then.
    I get that there is a reason.. though many say there isn't. I guess for me and my healing I have to believe that  there is a reason. If I think of the woman that I was before and the woman I am now.. it;s like night and day. I think I finally grew up. I was so scared to before...  If I could just look at how far I have come in these two years one would think I wouldn't hate myself so much. But for some reason and some issues that I don't want to talk about here...I believe that I have failed. The thing I have felt since I was a child, failure.. And I realize in this moment that is my next hurdle. Learning to forgive myself and learning to realize that I am not a failure.
   But in this moment.. I cry, for the pain I couldn't feel before, for the anger that seems to at times consume me. My "failures" to be the best mother, the best house keeper, the most organized, the best in my business, each thought crushes me and makes me feel unappreciated, and feelings of being worthless. However. I can say, that I know in the right and sane mind. I am not these things. I have to hope and know, that I strive not to be these things. That I am worthy of love, and acceptance. But it's not the acceptance from others that I need. It's the acceptance from myself. To believe in me, to love me, to trust in me. Only then can I hear, taste, feel, and breathe in the love and light that is surrounding me now, always has been and always will be. 

A cranky and Crazy heart.

I wanted so much to make this a fun day, for myself and for my kids. I think I did a pretty good job. But I had my moments of sheer frustration. For one I couldn't seem to stop chanting over and over in my head that this was the day that Pete proposed to me all those years ago.  It was like I wanted to shout to my psyche "Thanks, I got it. You can shut up now!"  So for a part of the day I had this inner battle going on. Trying to be happy and appear that today is a fun day on the outside. While on the inside the anxiety and the dumbness of it all was taking a hold of my heart. Squeezing it and making it hard to feel anything other that agony. I had to get out. So I took the boys to get their haircut.  It was the distraction I needed not only from my own head but it also stopped my from eating too many Valentine m&m's. :)  I am realizing that sugar makes my grief and my crankiness go through the roof. So often it was my "happiness" and now it's my frustration. Lovely!
  When Aryanna got home from school we ran an errand then home to make Aryanna's favorite for dinner. Since for some dumb reason her school didn't have a valentines party I thought that we should have a Valentines party at home then. So Pig's in a Blanket, Chicken nuggets, and Valentine muddy buddies (or puppy chow, which I also ate too much of  as well.) The kids had fun and I gave them their Valentines. It was as the evening was winding down that the cranky's came in and took over. So much for my hard work at trying to block them out. Thinking that the more fun I made the night, the better it would be. I mean I had been planning this for days. I was surprised at how I felt this morning. At one point I finally got my rings out of my jewelry box and put them on my finger for a few minutes. Then felt weird like I always do when I put them on, and put them back in the jewelry box next to his wedding band.
  I don't know what I thought would happen. I guess nothing. The day was hard. It had its ups and downs like any other day but this one was jaded with thoughts of what was. I remember so much of that day. Isn't it crazy? The first year he passed my friend gave me a charm bracelet. And when I opened it I kept thinking "what am I forgetting about this day?" It seriously took me like all day to remember what it was. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks to the chest. And I thought to myself and out loud "How could I forget something like that?" While it's been two years since he passed and its all I could think about today. Chalk it up to another "Crazy" moment  I guess. But if I sit and really let myself think about that Valentines day in 2002 I smile at the memory.
   I was dog sitting for a friend of mine. She had this beautiful Irish Setter. Her dogs fur and my hair we almost the same color. I brought her over to Pete's apartment. She was very well trained. I had worked at the salon all day, but I had arranged for one of those cookie baskets to be delivered to his work. I had one of the cookies say I love you Roo! So Penelope and I went over to his apartment where he decided to make homemade pizza.  Sadly the pizza didn't turn out very well but, it was OK cause we had cookies! :)  After dinner we cleaned the dishes and such and I remember looking around like "OK where is my present? I spent 80 bucks on a cookie basket you better have gotten me at least something." lol!  After the dishes were done he suggested we watch a movie. So I went to go and look at the movies. and he said I forgot something.. So silly me still wondering where my gift is I see him come out of the bedroom with a small white fuzzy teddy bear. The teddy bear was wearing a white knitted sweater with a red heart on it. He hands me the bear and gets down on one knee, I look at the bear to realize that around the bears neck on a ribbon is my ring. He says "will you marry me?" I was so surprised that I forgot to answer.  He said "Are you going to leave me down here?" And I said "OH!. Yes, Yes, I will marry you!"  I was speechless. And So surprised. Funny how I can still remember that feeling. I remember I tried to call my mom and my sister and no one answered. finally I got my middle sister on the phone and I said "Guess what?" and she said "he proposed?" I was like uhhhh yeah he did.. and I thought, hello you aren't supposed to guess if you know the answer you are supposed to let me tell you!! But it was all so exciting.
   I remember the look on his face, the excitement of finally being engaged to this man. I also remember being scared too. Cause what if I wasn't ready to get married. I remember asking him that a couple days later. I said "Would you wait for me if I am not ready to get married right away?" So scared of what he would have said "He said, I will wait for you, if you're not ready yet that's fine we can wait." That was all I needed to hear from him. cause then I was like OK lets get married! :)  Ready, set , plan. And we did. We planned an amazing wedding. And we had and incredible life together.
   So why be cranky on a day that changed my life forever? Who knows... Why not celebrated and be happy? I guess on some level it still seems so hard to believe that he's not physically in his body anymore. That everything happend the way it did and that I would only get 7 Valentines days with him. Isn't it crazy the places your mind goes.. On the flip side I am still grateful for those Valentines that I had. And even though i was angry, and cranky at times today I wouldn't change it. I am where I am supposed to be and he is where he is supposed to be for now. While one never knows what the next Valentines day will bring. I know for sure of one thing. My Roo, will always be my First Valentine.