THANKFUL FOR THE SCARS

It's been quite awhile since I've written anything - four years and seven months to be exact. I've thought about writing many times and even started something on more than one occasion. But for whatever reason, I just never followed through and finished. I decided to give it another shot though, mainly because of all the memories this time of year has brought - March marked 10 years since Eddie's suicide, this past Mother's Day was the 5th without Mama, and June will mark one year since both my dad and my father-in-law passed away unexpectedly. I think of and miss each of these special people every day, but there's something about these "milestone" anniversaries that makes the thoughts and feelings a little more intense.

Before I go on, let me say I am happy with my life now. I have SO many blessings that make it easy to get up and face each new day - my son and daughter-in-law, three beautiful grandchildren, a fiance, a new church family, and my wonderful friends. While nothing can take the place of those who are no longer here with me physically, I've accepted that it's OK to move on and enjoy a new, different life. I know this is what they all want for me, because I can feel their support. Sometimes I even see and hear it through subtle signs they send - the owl that sits watching from the tree at the front porch, the cardinal by the carport that chirps nonstop,  the devotional books that seem to "fall open" to the exact thing I need to read (Mama isn't always so subtle), that song that comes on the radio to lift my spirits or send a message just when I need it.

It was "that song" that led me to write again. Yesterday morning I opened the I-Heart Radio app on my phone. I have a couple of local country stations stored, since that's what I normally listen to. I intended to click on one of those, but chose another instead - a station playing top 20 contemporary Christian music. I was getting ready for church, so that seemed more appropriate anyway. The words of the first song immediately caught my attention..."Waking up to a new sunrise, looking back from the other side, I can see now with open eyes, darkest water and deepest pain...these wounds are a story You'll use..." (from Scars by I Am They). Those words made me think about all that has happened these past 10 years and the journey I've been on to get THROUGH (not around) my grief, finally reaching the other side.

I listened to the rest of the song, then found it online and listened again - I wanted to see if I was hearing one thing right: "I'm thankful for the scars." My initial reaction was "Yeah, right"! Thankful for the hard times? the sickness? the loss? the pain? the grief? the whys and what ifs? No way! But when I took a few minutes to think about it, I saw that wasn't what the words meant - not that I had to be thankful for the bad, but rather for the good that came as a result of it - for making it through to the other side, for the lessons I learned along the way, for the strength I found in myself and others, for the continuous love and support I received, and most of all for the renewed faith I found in God and prayer once I realized I couldn't do it on my own.

So if you ask me, I'll say yes - I'm thankful for the scars. They are a reminder, not of what I've lost, but of what I've gained and of the promise that there will always be someone to see me through the journeys of my life.

 

The Road Ahead

I revisited my blog tonight for the first time in quite awhile and realized it's been five months since I've written anything. I know for a lot of people this will sound strange and may be hard to understand, but I've missed writing. Believe it or not, it's something I actually enjoy. For so long after Eddie's death writing was my therapy. I can honestly say without any doubt that it literally saved my life. Putting my thoughts and feelings into written words was better than any medication I could have taken. I had every intention of continuing my writing, but with the exception of an occasional entry during my mother's illness, as often happens "life" got in the way.

I realized today though, with the beginning of the month of October, that I need to be writing again... maybe not every day, but definitely more often than I have been. I've written before that for years the month of October has been difficult for me. I won't repeat the reasons here, but a lot of things happened during this month seven years ago that I later realized were indicators of what was to come a few months later. And now October brings an added painful memory - the anniversary of my mother's death. Writing helped me get through these difficult times before, so I'm hoping it will do so again.

It's not like I'm sitting home feeling sorry for myself - I know I have a great deal to be thankful for. I am grateful that I was able to retire after 30 years of teaching and then find a part time job in the education field that allows me the freedom to do the things I enjoy. I know I am blessed to have many friends, both old and new, that I can talk to and share special times with. I appreciate having the luxury of going places and doing things when the opportunity arises. And of course I am blessed to have Trey and Emily in my life. I was reminded just last night of how much they bring to my life - after Emily's softball game she and Trey came back to my house to spend the night, she slept with me, had breakfast here, and then I had the pleasure of taking her to school. Trust me, there isn't time to think about anything else when she's around - she talked nonstop from the time her feet hit the floor this morning until she got out of the car at school!

I know as we approach the first anniversary of Mama's death there will be some difficult days this month though. I still haven't completely accepted that she's gone - I keep thinking she's away on a trip and will be back any day now. I still don't understand why someone who was such an inspiration, so loving, caring, unselfish, and helpful to others had to be taken away. I still have questions (just as with Eddie's death) that I know will remain unanswered. I know she's in a better place and free of pain now, but that doesn't stop me from wishing she was still here with us.

Despite the pain, loneliness, and questions though, I know from experience life will go on. We'll make it through this month with all of it's memories. We'll remember and honor Mama and do our best to get through the first anniversary of her death. We'll continue to grow and experience new things. We'll move forward, because we know that's what those who are gone from our lives would want us to do.

"Even in the winter, even in the midst of the storm, the sun is still there. Somewhere, up above the clouds, it still shines and warms and pulls at the life buried deep inside the brown branches and frozen earth. The sun is there! Spring will come." ~Gloria Gaither



A Mother's Day Tribute

I've experienced many "firsts" following the death of a loved one during the past six years...the first Father's Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, anniversary, Valentine's, and birthday after Eddie's death as well as the first birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas since Mama died. I know the first is always the hardest, so I've tried to prepare myself for this first Mother's Day without my mother. But as anyone who has lost a loved one knows, no matter how hard you try there's really nothing you can do to prepare yourself for how hard certain days are going to be. There's no point in trying to ignore the day or in pretending like there's nothing significant about it. The day is going to come, it's going to be difficult, and all we can do is survive it. As much as I've dreaded spending this day without my mother for the first time in 53 years, I know there's no way to avoid it. So I decided the best way to get through it is to remember and pay tribute to her - to the wonderful person, daughter, sister, mother, grandmother, and friend that she was.

My mother was the most selfless person I have ever known. In my entire life I cannot remember one time that she put herself first. She was always more concerned with other's feelings, needs, and wants than she was with her own. Even when she was sick she still wanted to take care of others instead of herself. She picked Emily up from school, kept her in the afternoons, did things for Trey, checked on my dad, and had her mother live with her until she was no longer physically able. When the time came that she couldn't do these things any more she cried, not for herself but for everyone else, because she felt like she was letting them down. Everyone who was at her funeral heard me give just a few examples of her selfless acts - taking Emily's tennis shoes to her at school when she forgot them on PE day, going to lunch at Emily's school even when she was wearing her chemo pump bag, calling my dad every single day to make sure he was ok, getting someone to help him walk on the beach and into the ocean on our last vacation, bringing her mother to live with her even when she wasn't feeling up to taking care of her, and the indescribable support she gave to me after Eddie died.

I never gave any thought to my mother's unselfish way of life when I was growing up. Just like everyone else, especially during my teenage years, I was absorbed in myself...my school, my friends, my activities. But looking back now, I see just how much my mother must have sacrificed for me. I can't remember ever doing without anything I wanted, especially during my high school years. My mother was a single mom working as a secretary in a very small town at that time. I was involved in a lot of activities...cheerleading, student council, Beta Club, Y-Club...that required money for dues, uniforms, trips, camps, etc. Though she probably made just enough for us to live on, I was always able to do everything I wanted. And it wasn't just the money - she gave of her time as well. She was the mother who chaperoned, supervised, transported, and volunteered whenever and wherever she was needed. I have no idea how she did what she did, and I am sorry to say I don't think I ever adequately thanked her for it.

Of course I don't have to tell anyone who knew my mother about her faith. She didn't just read the Bible and go to church on Sunday - she lived her faith every day of her life. She didn't "preach" to others yet her faith was evident in everything she said and did. She believed in the power of prayer and encouraged everyone around her to do the same. There were many times I wanted her to get mad at someone or something, but she wouldn't. Instead she always remained calm and prayed for the person or the thing that was causing her difficulty. Right up to the day she died, she believed she was going to be healed...and in the end she was...her healing just took place in heaven instead of here on Earth.

But more than anything, I will remember my mother for all she did for me after Eddie's death. She was here for whatever I needed or wanted. She held me when I cried, listened when I wanted to talk, sat with me in silence when I didn't, encouraged me when I didn't think I could keep going, and left me alone when I told her to. Though she certainly didn't deserve it, she took the brunt of my anger more than once during this time. She told me things I needed to hear as well as things I didn't want to. She encouraged me and supported me unconditionally, and I know I would not have survived without her.

Though my mother's life was cut short by cancer, she made the most of the time she was given. She was a positive influence and role model, not only for me, but for everyone who knew her. She was a true blessing to all of us...to her parents as their youngest daughter (although from the stories I've heard she was a bit of a rebel growing up); to her siblings as their baby sister (even if she drove them crazy at times); to Trey as the grandmother with whom he shared a special bond for 30 years (even though he didn't always like it when she told him exactly what she thought); to Emily as the great grandmother many children don't ever have the chance to know (I pray she will remember the time she spent with her "meme"); to all of her friends who had the opportunity to be a part of her life either through school, church, work, or as a neighbor; and finally to me as the wonderful mother who is responsible for the person I am today. I think it's safe to say my mother made a lasting impression on everyone she met. I miss her terribly and would give anything to be able to talk to her again. And while I may not understand why someone so good had to suffer and be taken away from all who needed her here, I will always be thankful for the time we had and truly grateful that God chose her to be my mother.

"A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie." ~Tenneva Jordan

Change is the Only Constant

Anyone who has read my blog knows I am always completely open and honest about the events in my life - how I feel about them, how I deal with them, and how they affect my life both present and future. My posts up to this point have focused on the losses in my life, Eddie's death and the death of my mother, and the changes I had to make as a result of those losses. The upcoming change in my life may not be on the same level as losing my husband and my mother, but it is going to be significant just the same. I have been thinking about and planning my retirement for some time now. I know it is the right thing to do and the right time to do it. I'm not reconsidering my decision or having second thoughts of any kind. But as the time inches closer I will admit having some feelings of apprehension and uncertainty. A way of life that I have known and depended on for 30 years is about to disappear and that will mean another change for me. Other than part-time jobs while going to college, teaching is the only thing I have ever done. I have held the same job in the same school system for 30 years. The only changes that took place were when my original school was joined with another and rebuilt, when I switched from teaching special education to teaching fourth grade, and when I moved from one room to another farther down the hall. Most people experience many more changes during their professional careers than I have (the Bureau of Labor Statistics reports people hold an average of 11 jobs during their adult working years)!

While Eddie and I were married we talked about and even planned what we would do when we both retired. He was from South Georgia where his family owned property in the country as well as along the water on the east coast. He was a big hunter and fisherman and I loved the beach, so it was a given that when the time came we would move to one of those two places and live out our remaining years. It never entered my mind that I would have to come up with a different plan, one for just me, until Eddie died suddenly. Everything changed for me after that...I had to adjust to a new life on my own; I had to make new plans for the present as well as for the future; I had to accept that sometimes things happen that are beyond our control. One major constant during that time was my job, and I soon came to rely very heavily on the schedule and routine it provided for me. That may sound dreary and boring to some people, but knowing I had to be somewhere and do a certain thing at a certain time kept me going and in turn kept me sane. I learned very quickly that I didn't do well with a lot of down time and nothing specific to do. To this day, six years later, I still need to stay busy and focused on something. Too much unstructured time on my hands leads to thinking which leads to asking questions and wondering why again - in other words backsliding. And I do not want my retirement to lead to that!

So now the time has come for me to rethink what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I've talked about moving back to my hometown, and that's still an option, but it's not something I'm going to do right away. I'll give more serious thought to that down the road. I've joked about buying a condo and moving to the beach, but that's only going to happen if I win the lottery! (I do however intend to visit there more often.) I want to do more to promote my book (something I promised my mother), and I would like to find groups to speak to about my experiences. I know there are options for part-time work in my field, and I intend to pursue some of those. Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to not having to go to bed at 9:30, get up at 5:30, work 9-10 hours a day, grade papers on the weekend, and still never be caught up! I will be relieved to not have such a strict schedule, but I'm not ready to be without any schedule at all. I'm sure in time I'll find a happy medium between the two extremes - it will just be one more adjustment in my life - proving once again that "Life Goes On".

"Retirement may be an ending, a closing, but it is also a new beginning."
~Catherine Pulsifier



 

Dreams

Dreams are strange, mysterious, and confusing things. They can be happy, comforting, funny, sad, scary, and upsetting. They can be recalled in great detail or remembered only in bits and pieces. There are a lot of different theories about them based on studies by famous psychologists. Many believe dreams have meaning, that they reveal our hidden fears and desires. Others think they are just a reflection of our daily experiences and serve no real purpose. I've never been one to give a lot of thought to my dreams either way. I don't spend time trying to remember them much less trying to determine what if anything they mean (I'm sure this is surprising since I've always had a tendency to overanalyze most things!). Every now and then though, I have a dream that I do think has some meaning...last night was one of those times.

I dreamed I was cleaning out my room at school - deciding what to leave, what to keep, and what to give away. That in itself wasn't strange since I'll have to tackle that job VERY soon. What was unusual were the things in my classroom...my mother's microwave, stereo, and television; my grandmother's rocking chair and piano; Eddie's recliner and the deer head that used to hang over the fireplace. It sounds like I was cleaning out my house or storage building, but I wasn't...I was in the school, there were student desks, books, and papers there, and I could see the bulletin boards and cabinets that are in my classroom. I have no doubt this dream was mostly about change...the changes I've had to make in the past and the ones that are coming in my near future. And though I may be reading too much into it, I'm wondering if there's a deeper meaning there - could it also be about choosing what I need to keep and what I need to get rid of in my life?

Most of the changes I've been through during the past six years were forced on me - I had no say or control over when, how, or why they occurred. Even though I know I've adjusted fairly well and have moved on with my life, there are still some things I need to let go of - like the lingering questions and occasional feelings of anger and resentment. While I know in my head there was nothing I could have done to prevent Eddie's death, there's still a small place in my heart that feels there had to have been something more I could've done, and I wonder why things had to happen the way they did. And though I don't deal with it every day there are still times when I get angry at him for the choice he made and resent him for what he put us through and for what he took away from us. There are things from the past I need to keep and hold close in my mind and my heart...the pleasant memories of happy times and good things we shared...but there are things I need to get rid of as well.

Thankfully the next big change in my life (retirement) is completely within my control. I decide the when, how, and why this time, and though it may be a bit scary, I know it's something I'm ready for! I'm sure there will be more dreams in the next few months about this upcoming change, but I feel sure they will be pleasant ones.


"A dream is a work of art which requires of the dreamer no particular talent, special training, or technical competence. Dreaming is a creative enterprise in which all may and most do participate."
~Clark S. Hall



You Can't Go Back

During this time each year most people do the same thing to some degree - think about the past and look ahead to the future. We revisit the last year and reflect on the things we did, what happened to us, what went wrong, what went right, and the choices we made. Then we decide what we want to do differently in the new year, the changes we want to make, and the things we want to accomplish - we make our New Year's resolutions. Many people have the same resolutions year after year...lose weight, make more money, quit smoking, exercise, spend more time with family. I said many of the same things over the years, but after Eddie's death my resolutions changed drastically. My first goal was to simply survive from one day to the next (which is basically all I did during the first year); the next was to get my life back on track (although I'm not sure what "back on track" actually is); then I wanted to make my house and my life mine rather than ours (I did that by redecorating and getting involved with new groups of friends); with a lot of prodding I then promised to turn my blog into a book and get it published (which I did); and last year I resolved to let go of anger and regrets (I'm still working on that one).

I don't feel the need to make any of the same resolutions now after my mother's death that I did after Eddie's. I miss her and wish she were still here, but I'm doing more than just surviving this time, and I don't have any anger or regrets. So when anyone has asked I've simply said all I want this year is to be happy. Achieving that happiness though is going to involve making decisions (not resolutions). While I don't have to make those decisions today - I don't officially retire until the end of May - it's not too soon to start thinking about them. No one is forcing me to retire at the end of this school year, but that's one decision that has already been made. A friend told me I would know when  the time was right, and even though I have loved what I've done for 30 years, I know without any doubt it's time to move on to something else. There are plenty of options for what to do after I retire...private tutoring, a part-time job, work at the college level teaching a class or supervising student teachers, going back to school to become a counselor, continuing my writing, possibly speaking to groups about my experiences...I don't intend to sit around doing nothing and being bored! My biggest decision isn't what I'm going to do but rather where I want to be when I do it.

I've thought and talked a lot about moving back "home" after I retire. Kenny Chesney's song I Go Back describes how I feel about certain reminders of growing up in Hazlehurst..."I go back to the feel of a fifty yard line...I go back to the smell of an old gym floor...I go back to a pew, preacher, and a choir and the smell of Sunday chicken after church...I go back to watching summer fade to fall, growin up too fast and I do recall wishin time would stop right in its tracks..." These are all very old memories though. I know I can't literally "go back" to the life I had there before. Of course some of the same people and places are still there - I have dear friends I love to visit and places I enjoy going back to. I know life there now would be very different...but can't different can also mean better? Who knows!

I talked with someone recently about this decision, and their advice was simply "just follow your heart." If only it were that easy! It's hard to follow your heart when part of it wants one thing and part of it wants something else. Right now I don't know how to choose between the two, and thankfully I don't have to yet. I still have time to weigh my options before making a choice, and even then no decision is carved in stone. Unlike the past which cannot be erased the future is always a clean slate.

"It doesn't matter which side of the fence you get off on sometimes. What matters most is getting off. You cannot make progress without making decisions." ~Jim Rohn

The Peace That Comes From Knowing

The first Christmas without my mother has passed, and of course she was on my mind constantly. Everything I did, everywhere I went, everything I saw or heard in some way reminded me of her. My mother loved Christmas - the decorations, presents, movies, songs, friends, family time. She didn't care about getting anything herself, she just wanted to give to others (which was how she lived her entire life). As I decorated my tree this year I looked at the many ornaments she had given me and remembered something special about each one. I missed her more and more with every ornament I hung, but while I shed a few tears I didn't have any major meltdowns. And though I felt a sense of sadness at times, I wasn't overwhelmed by it - at least not the way I was after Eddie died. I started to think about the difference in my reactions to these two losses and to wonder why I wasn't feeling or acting the same this time. As I continued to decorate my tree and listen to the words of some of my mother's favorite Christmas songs, it finally occcurred to me - while I miss my mother (and always will) I am at peace with her death. But now, nearly six years later, I still do not have any peace about Eddie's death - and THAT is the difference.

My mother had the strongest faith of anyone I have ever known. Even with everything she endured that faith never waivered. She talked about it openly and freely to others. She read her bible and prayed daily. As I cleaned out her house and went through her belongings I found evidence of her faith everywhere - bible verses written on little pieces of paper and stuck inside things, book after book of inspirational stories and quotes, even her usernames, passwords, and email address contained scripture references! She believed until the very end that she could be healed of her disease, but at the same time she was willing to accept if that healing didn't come. There was never a doubt in my mind about where my mother was going when she left this earth. I didn't need any proof - but I got it anyway.

On her last day Mama's house was filled with friends and family, some who drove several hours just to be there for the afternoon (which only confirmed how much she meant to others). We had food, two Christmas trees, Thanksgiving arrangements, Halloween decorations, a fourth of July sign and flag, and birthday flowers and balloons...as many celebrations as we could have all rolled into one. People were talking, laughing, reminiscing, singing, and praying. There were of course tears flowing as we were all aware her time with us was almost over. The day eventually came to an end and most of the company left as it began to get dark. I knew this would be my last night with my mother. I wanted to pretend like it was any other night though, so I turned on the television - Saturday night football of course - and we cheered against Auburn!

Not long after the game ended, it was obvious that Mama's time here was ending as well. Those of us who were there gathered around her bed - her sisters Marie and Vangie, her niece Debbie, her friend Jean, her hospice nurse Joy (an angel on earth), the home health caregiver, her preacher John (who arrived just moments before she passed), and myself. I was holding Mama's left hand and Marie was holding her right as she and Vangie took turns reading some of Mama's favorite passages from the Bible. Joy was talking to her and telling her it was okay to let go when her right arm started to rise. At first I thought Marie was raising her arm, but Marie let go of her hand and her arm continued to rise toward the ceiling. Her eyes looked up to a point in the distance, she stretched out her fingers, and took one last quiet breath...leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that there was someone there reaching out to take her hand. I spent my mother's last moments with her, I told her goodbye and that I loved her, and most importantly I witnessed her entrance into heaven...and THAT is why I am at peace!

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”  
John 14:27



The Missing Piece

A couple of months ago I decided to resume my blog to share my feelings about my mother's battle with cancer. At that time her cancer had worsened and she was feeling sick and experiencing a great deal of pain most of the time. I made one entry in my blog about how unfair I thought it was that someone so good had to suffer so much, but I haven't written about anything since then. I've had plenty of thoughts, feelings, emotions, and especially questions, but I either didn't have the time or the energy to write about them until now. After fighting with everything she had and never for one second giving up her faith or her belief in a miracle my mother left this world on October 25, 2014. Normally in a case like this people would say that the person "lost the battle" with their disease. I'm not going to use those words, though, because my mother didn't LOSE anything...she WON and her reward was a new, healthy, pain and disease-free life in a place where she will forever be surrounded by loved ones and happiness.

I know I am not the first person to ever lose a parent. Many people have experienced the death of one or both of their parents long before me. My own son lost his father after only 24 years. I was lucky enough to have my mother as a part of my life for 53 years. My mother wasn't just my mother though - she was also my best friend and my confidant. During my entire life we never lived very far apart, and even when we didn't live close enough for daily visits we still talked on the phone (or more recently texted) every day. We talked about everything, and she always helped me through the difficult times. As close as we were though, we were polar opposites in almost every way. If she said something was yellow, I said it was green. If she said it was cold, I said it was hot. We didn't see eye to eye on politics, religion, how Trey should live his life, or how Emily should be raised. She was content, even happy, with the simple things, but I always wanted more. When I told her about the last car I purchased her response was simply to ask "why"! She told me what she thought I should and shouldn't do, and I usually ended up doing the opposite. She never hid what she thought or how she felt about what I did (I guess in that way we are alike). When I showed her my tattoo at the beach a couple of summers ago her only comment was "If you're waiting for me to say I like it, I don't"! I think that's what made our relationship so special though...we could voice our opinions, disagree, even have some pretty serious arguments, then five minutes later act as if nothing had happened.

Although I know my mother is in a "better place" now, that doesn't stop me from asking why she couldn't have been healed here; why she was taken away from the people who needed her; and why she had to suffer so much during her last few months. I realize I won't get an answer to these questions, but just as I did after Eddie's death I'm still asking them. I will miss my mother terribly for the rest of my life. Not a day has gone by during the past two weeks that I haven't picked up the phone to call or text her, expected to see her when I walked into her house, or thought of something I just had to tell her about right away! I have been truly blessed with the love and support I've received from family and friends during this time, and I will be forever thankful to those who have been here helping me along the way. But I have also been truly hurt by some I thought would be here and weren't. That is definitely the kind of thing I would have talked to my mother about, and I can hear her now telling me..."Honey, focus on the positive, the people you know you can depend on. Those who are supposed to be in your life will be there for you when you need them the most. If they're not, then you don't really need them."

As my mother would want, I will try to focus on the positive and on all of the good things I have in my life. I am thankful that I still have my dad, Trey, Emily, an extended family, a home, a job I can retire from in just a few months, and the best friends anyone could ever ask for. Most people would probably be content, satisfied, and maybe even happy with what I have. But of course (just as my mother knew) I'm never satisfied and am always looking for something more...there's an important piece missing from my life, and I think it's time to start working on finding it.

"Love is the seed of all hope. It is the enticement to trust, to risk, to try, and to go on." ~Gloria Gaither

The Tie That Binds

Starting a blog about my experience after Eddie died turned out to be the best therapy I could have ever hoped for. Turning my thoughts and feelings into written words and subsequently sharing them with others enabled me to face what happened and eventually move on with my life. Everyone chooses how best to deal with their own difficult times - there is no right or wrong way - we just have to find what works. Because I found once before that writing works for me, I've decided to resume my blog to share my experience as my mother battles cancer. I debated on whether I should continue using "Life Goes On" or start a new blog. Even though I don't intend for my writing to focus solely on the past, I know that in some way (at least in my mind) everything will always be related to Eddie's death. The things I write about now may not have not been caused by, nor be a direct result of his suicide, but the way I choose to deal with them will always be affected by it.

My mother was initially diagnosed with cancer in March 2009, on a Monday, exactly six weeks before Eddie died. Though one didn't cause the other, for me these two events will always be linked. Since that time I've read a number of quotes about things happening for a reason...“I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.” (Marilyn Monroe); "There is always a reason for everything that happens. Your experiences are designed to shape you, define you and, hopefully, grow you into the mightiest you possible." (Aristotle); even the Bible in Ecclesiastes 3:1 says "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." While these are all great quotes I have to agree the most with one by Aaron Chan..."People say everything happens for a reason. But it would be nice to know some of the reasons why."...I would like for someone to tell me the reason my mother has cancer and explain the purpose of her suffering.

Through everything that has happened my mother's faith has never waivered - she reads the Bible and devotions every day, prays, talks to others about God, and believes in miracles - she never gives up. The way she is handling this disease is a testament to her faith and an example for others to follow. I see and understand all of that, so pardon me for being selfish, but I think it would serve a much greater purpose for her to be healthy and remain here where she does so much good for others. My mother has always put her own wants and needs last. She has always been the one who takes care of everyone else. There are any number of people who depend on her - my grandmother, my father, Trey, Emily, even me (though I don't admit it very often) - and there has never been a time that she didn't come through for all of us. Seeing her experience the constant pain she is in now and watching her try to cope with the nonstop nausea and inability to do the things she wants to do is difficult to say the least. I don't understand why this is happening to someone who deserves so much better, and I don't see any purpose whatsoever in her suffering. I know we don't always get answers to the questions we ask, and our prayers aren't always answered as quickly as we think they should be, but knowing that doesn't make this any easier.

Out of the Darkness

The first of March - this weekend marks the beginning of "that time" of year for me. Two weeks from today will be the 5th anniversary of Eddie's death. I've been thinking about this a lot over the past few days. I've learned to start ahead of time preparing myself for the date. But so far I feel like this year is going to be different. I don't mean that I think the day will be easy - it will never be easy. I just think I've finally come to terms with what happened and am beginning to feel some sense of peace. I still don't understand why things happened as they did, but I've honestly quit trying because I know that I never will. I still don't like the choice Eddie made, but I've accepted it was his choice, and no matter how much I'd like to think so, nothing I could have said or done would have made a difference. I still have moments when I get angry at Eddie - either because he's not here to experience something or because he's not around to help me with something - but the anger doesn't last. I still think of him every day and miss the good times we shared, but I no longer dwell on the bad times. My focus has shifted from mourning what could have been to remembering and appreciating what was.

I believe a lot of my current feelings have to do with the publication of my book. The timing (being released just before this 5th anniversary) was perfect. As people have started to read the book some have asked me questions about things I said, felt, and experienced, and others have shared their own experiences with me. As a result I've talked more openly and honestly about what happened in the last few weeks than I ever did in the past five years. With the exception of writing my blog, this has proven to be the greatest therapy I could have hoped for. I've spent time the past two nights talking with a friend whose neighbor committed suicide this past week. He shot himself with a shotgun just like Eddie. He was married with two children, had a job, and had never given any indication that he was considering taking his own life. He and his wife were coming up on their 25th wedding anniversary...so many similarities to my own experience. My friend was of course shocked at what happened and was asking the same questions I asked...How could this happen? Why didn't I see any signs? Could I have said or done something to make a difference? Instead of being upset over talking about something so painfully familiar to me though, I was glad to be able to provide some comfort. Of course I didn't have any answers, but I was able to offer understanding.

I've also spent time during the last couple of weeks with other friends who recently lost loved ones. The circumstances were different, but the losses were difficult just the same. Everyone experiences the same emotions in varying forms and intensities when a loved one passes away. Whether it is a sudden, tragic loss or an expected one, everyone needs comfort, sympathy, and understanding afterwards. We all deal with our losses in different ways...some of us want another person to talk to and share our feelings with, while others prefer to remain quiet and cope with the loss on their own. Regardless of the method we choose though we all need someone nearby for support. No matter how strong we think we are no one recovers alone!

All of this has made me realize one thing...I don't want what I went through and learned in the process to be swept under a rug and forgotten...I want it to be used for good. So, despite my previous adamant insistence that I was finished with school, I am now contemplating going back (AFTER I retire from teaching) to become a counselor. If I can help anyone in any way, then my own experience has not been in vain.

“For darkness restores what light cannot repair.” ~Joseph Brodsky

My First REAL New Year's Resolution

I've never been one to make New Year's resolutions. I say the usual things just like everyone else...I'm going to eat less, exercise more, live a healthier life...but I've never really set specific goals that I intended to work towards in the upcoming year. I'm making a change this year though by setting one BIG goal, making one BIG resolution...to let go of past regrets. That shouldn't be too difficult should it? (HA!) We all have regrets...things we did or said that we wish we hadn't, things we didn't do or say that we wish we had...they're a part of life. I've spent a lot of time this holiday season thinking about the past, the mistakes I know I made, and the regrets I have as a result. Just as we all have regrets, we've also all made mistakes. We're human, and like regrets mistakes are a part of life. If we didn't make mistakes there wouldn't be anything for us to learn from. Mistakes and regrets can teach us some of life's greatest lessons.

My problem is getting "bogged down" in my mistakes and beating myself up over things I can't do anything about. My regrets become like a cloud hanging over me that I can't get out from under. I let them turn into feelings of guilt, and I blame myself for things I can't change. In my head I know this is useless, a waste of my time and energy. Should haves and shouldn't haves are irrelevant. "Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, it might have been." (Kurt Vonnegut) As much as we'd like to we can't go back and change the past...we can't undo what's already been done. Knowing this and accepting it though are two different things.

I know this goal isn't something I can accomplish overnight. My regrets have built up over many years and are based on many mistakes, so it will take time to let go of them. To be honest I'm not even sure what "letting go" means or how to go about doing it. I know all of the things I've read...take responsibility for my actions, apologize for things I've done wrong, ask for forgiveness from anyone I feel I've hurt, learn from my mistakes, and finally forgive myself. I think I've done the first three as much as I possibly can - I've taken responsibility, apologized, and asked for forgivness. I'm continuing to do the fourth - learning from what I've done wrong. It's the last one I need to work on. Often we are harder on ourself than others are, so forgiving ourself isn't always as easy as forgiving someone else.

I can let my mistakes and my regrets continue to be a constant burden, or I can use them as a motivation to improve myself. I can dwell on my past mistakes, or I can learn from them and use the experiences to shape a better future. I can stay focused on the chances I've lost, or I can look at the possibilities ahead of me. I can remain trapped in the past, or I can slowly close the door on it, leaving the regrets behind. These are the choices I have. I know what the right ones are. Now I just have to act on them. "Never look back unless you are planning to go that way." (Henry David Thoreau)

So Much to Be Thankful For

As hard as it is to believe another Thanksgiving has come and gone. It fell late in November this year which leaves a very short time to get ready for Christmas. With that in mind I started early this morning determined to finish all of my decorating today. To get myself in the "spirit" I pulled out all of my Christmas cd's to listen to as I began to decorate. I have several that I like, but my favorite is Josh Groban's Noel, so I put it in first. I've probably listened to that cd a hundred times and know every song that's on it, but for some reason this morning the sixth song, Thankful, caught my attention. I stopped what I was doing, replayed the song, and really listened to the words. I suddenly realized what a wonderful song this is for moving from the Thanksgiving season into the Christmas season. I also felt like it contained a message meant specifically for me this year..."There's so much to be thankful for."

We celebrated our fifth Thanksgiving without Eddie yesterday, and as always his absence was felt especially at the dinner table. I hurt for Trey because I know how much he still misses his father. I felt regret that Emily will never have the chance to get to know her "Papi." I thought about Eddie's parents and how unbelievably difficult losing a child (regardless of the age) must be. But for the first time I did not cry, and I didn't feel any sadness for myself. As I shared recently, I've been struggling with some renewed feelings of anger, resentment, and blame. I know that can be expected from time to time in the years following a loss of any kind, but what I needed to realize is that I cannot let myself get too wrapped up in those feelings again or they will take over completely. I received that message "loud and clear" through these words from Josh Groban's Thankful...

"Some days we forget to look around us
Some days we can't see the joy that surrounds us
So caught up inside ourselves
We take when we should give

So for tonight we pray for
What we know can be
And on this day we hope for
What we still can't see

It's up to us to be the change

Look beyond ourselves...
Each of us must find our truth
We're so long overdue...
And even though we all can still do more
There's so much to be thankful for."

 

So with those words in mind I went back and looked at the pictures we had taken after dinner last night and saw exactly what this song was telling me...I was surrounded by joy. I had my 98-year old grandmother with me for yet another celebration. I had both of my parents here - each doing exceptionally well under the circumstances. My son who, despite his own trials and losses, has grown into a hard-working man and father was  at home. And my granddaughter, who is growing up way too fast, was here to remind us all of what life is really about. We had more food than we could possibly eat, good conversation mixed with laughter over memories from the past, a comfortable living room where we could relax and watch the traditional Thanksgiving day football games on television, and a fire (complete with the new puppy sleeping in front of it) to keep us warm.

In addition to what I saw in the pictures from last night I thought about what I have to look forward to. In the immediate future I have some very dear and special friends coming from "home" tomorrow to go to Fantasy in Lights and spend the night with me. I have dinner and a show at the River Center next week with a group of great friends who always make me smile and laugh. I have weekly get-togethers for dinner, social time, football (or any other reason) with some new friends who I feel like I've known all my life. Of course there will be plenty of Christmas parties and visits with friends and relatives to keep me busy during this next month. Looking ahead I've already planned a trip with friends from Hazlehurst to see Cher in concert in Jacksonville next May as well as another girls' vacation to Cozumel in July and hopefully a trip to New York next December. And in the not-too-distant future (June 2015 to be exact) I can officially retire! Then who knows...

My life may not have turned out exactly as I expected or planned. I  may have had things happen that I didn't choose and that I don't like. I may not be able to control how I feel (or sometimes even what I say) all of the time. And I certainly don't know everything the future holds. But I do know this about the present..."There's so much to be thankful for."

The Calm Before the Storm

If you’ve read my blog from the beginning you know I’ve written about all of the things I did in an effort to recover and move on after Eddie’s death…reading books on grief, researching information about suicide, talking with a pastor, seeing a counselor and a psychiatrist, reading devotions and the Bible, praying, and finally writing. In my reading (especially about suicide) I often came across stories of people who were still dealing with their loss many years after the event  – some as many as 20 years later – but I vowed I would never be one of those people. I knew it would take time to recover from what happened, but I truly believed there would come a point in my life where I reached the end of my “coping” period. I was determined that, although I knew Eddie’s suicide would always be a part of my life, I wasn’t going to let it be something I had to “deal” with on a daily basis forever.

As I started to recover from my experience and began the process of rebuilding my life, I gradually gave up the things I'd been doing that had initially helped me to heal and move on. Giving up some of those was the right thing to do. I had read enough information on grief and suicide, and I wasn’t learning anything new, so I stopped reading and researching. Although I was comforted by the time I spent with the pastor, even he agreed we eventually reached a point where he had nothing new to tell me, so I ended my visits with him. The same was true of the counselor. The time I spent sharing with her was invaluable, but eventually the sessions became repetitive, so I chose to end them. I knew then and I still know now I made the right choice at the right time in all of these decisions. Unfortunately I also changed the other things I had been doing, and that was a mistake. I felt like I had said all there was to say with my writing, so I ended my blog (with the exception of an occasional post). While it wasn’t necessary to continue sharing what I wrote, I should have continued to write in some form, even if it was just a journal that no one read but me. I didn't realize until now what a great form of therapy my writing was. It gave me an outlet to express my true feelings – feelings I now realize I was keeping bottled up inside. And somewhere along the way, I can’t even pinpoint exactly when, I quit reading devotions and the Bible and gave up my daily prayers (that's a topic for another time).

I replaced my old methods for dealing with my experience with new ventures and activities. Most of these have been positive and have helped me move forward with my life. I reconnected with friends from the past, formed close bonds with new friends, and started traveling. These have all been good for me and have provided me with experiences that I wouldn’t trade for anything. At the same time though I made it a point to stay so busy I didn’t have time to think about the past, and when a thought or memory would start to creep into my head I’d push it out before it had a chance to get stuck in my mind. Little did I know these thoughts and the feelings associated with them weren’t really going away – they were staying with me building up inside just like a fire slowly beginning to burn deep down in a volcano. I had small indications this was happening – I’ve felt anger and resentment again – but just as with the thoughts and memories I chose to ignore the feelings. I didn’t recognize the harm I was doing until it was too late. The volcano erupted and all of the suppressed anger, resentment, fear, questions, blame, and hurt came spewing out.

If I had been alone when this happened it would have been okay. I could have ranted, raved, and carried on until I got it all out, and no one would have witnessed it or been hurt by my words. I wasn't alone though. Someone totally undeserving of the treatment they received was here to bear the brunt of my explosion of emotions. Without even knowing it and through no fault of their own, this person became a stand in, and I unloaded all of the pent up anger, frustration, and blame I've been feeling towards Eddie on them. Too late I realized how harmful keeping everything bottled up inside of me has been. Now only time will tell whether my words and actions have destroyed a valued friendship.

So here I am four and a half years later - much better than I was but still with a long way to go. I guess I'll be one of those people in the books after all still dealing with what happened years down the road. I don't like it, I didn't choose it, but this is life. We live it, make mistakes, learn from it, and carry on. Like the line in the Zac Brown song As She's Walking Away says..."may have lost this battle, live to fight another day."

 

A Championship Afternoon

Anyone who follows the Atlanta Braves and knows me very well probably could have predicted that today's game would lead to another entry in my blog. The Braves clinched the National League East division title this afternoon for the first time in eight years. If you're not a baseball fan this doesn't mean a thing to you. But if you are a fan and particularly a Braves fan you know exactly what it means. As I wrote in my last entry our household was always big on sports, and we followed the Braves even before they had winning teams. Because Eddie played baseball all through high school and college it was his favorite sport. He watched every game he possibly could on television and went to games in Atlanta whenever he had the opportunity. He was the typical armchair manager always telling which pitch should be thrown, who should play where, whether the batter should take or swing, and when it was time to make a substitution.

I had seen his reactions when the Braves started having winning seasons during the 1990's after being a losing franchise for so many years. I knew how excited he would have been watching them clinch their division again today after eight years, and it made me sad that he wasn't here to see it. I've come to realize lately that any sadness I still feel about Eddie's death is because of what he's missing by not being here. He took away a great deal from Trey, his family, his friends, and me with his suicide, but he took away even more from himself. He deprived us of the life we had known, but we are adjusting and will go on with different lives. I do not feel sorry for myself, but I do feel sorry for what Eddie will never get to experience.

Because of these feelings it was an emotional afternoon for me. I was excited to see the Braves win but regretful that Eddie wasn't here to see it too. I knew if he had been he would have gotten on the phone with Trey and his dad immediately after the game to share the excitement of the championship with them. Luckily a very good friend was here to watch the end of the game and the subsequent celebration with me which was a huge help. To that person I would like to say thank you - I don't think you even knew what your being here meant.

I will watch the Braves throughout the playoffs cheering for them like any true fan. I want them to have a long successful run ending with a World Series championship. I know this will mean more emotional times for me, but that's okay because I will have other family members and friends to share the games and the excitement with.

"My motto was always to keep swinging. Whether I was in a slump or feeling badly or having trouble off the field, the only thing to do was keep swinging." ~Hank Aaron

It's Just a Game

As far back as I can remember sports has always been a part of my life. As a child I watched what few games there were on television with my father and grandfather. As I grew up I became a cheerleader, first for peewee and midget football, then high school football and basketball. In college I continued as a basketball cheerleader for two years. I began following baseball when I met Eddie and soon became an avid fan. I announced the home games and ran the scoreboard during Eddie's senior year at Columbus College and even followed the team to the College World Series in California while seven months pregnant. After our marriage Eddie and I followed both college and professional sports together, especially football and baseball. Our involvement in sports grew after Trey came along. He began playing ball at age five and continued throughout school first in little league baseball, football, and basketball, then with high school baseball and football.

Our favorite teams were (and still are) the Atlanta Braves, Georgia Bulldogs, and Atlanta Falcons. We followed and supported the Braves and Falcons long before they developed winning programs. The opening day for each of these sports and teams was always an exciting and much anticipated time in our home. During college football season our house was always a place to gather and watch the big games. There were times when it was a family get-together, times when it was Trey having his friends over, and times when it was a get-together with the neighbors. There was always plenty of food, drinks, laughter, yelling, cheering, and fun. Of course it was better when our team won, but we always had a great time regardless of the outcome.

Now when each of these seasons starts I am reminded of those times and how much I miss them. I haven't had a get-together at my house for a game since Eddie's death. At first I was afraid it would be too hard without him here. Even now four years later I can still picture him sitting in his recliner, yelling at the television, and even ocassionally throwing a newspaper or magazine at the screen when things didn't go well. We always had to turn the sound down on the television during Georgia games so we could watch the game but listen to Larry Munson. I can smell the hamburgers, steaks, ribs, and chicken that Eddie grilled because you couldn't watch a game without something cooked outside. I can hear the talking and laughing that filled the house and spilled out onto the carport and deck. I can still feel the excitement when our team won and our disappointment when they lost. These are happy pleasant memories that I will always cherish. Now because of those memories I'm no longer afraid to host a get-together. It's time to bring the laughter and fun back to my house and make new memories with new people.

My love for these sports has not changed since Eddie's death, but the importance I place on them has. They were and always will be a great source of entertainment, but winning the big game is no longer a life-altering occurance as I once thought. I know now that regardless of the outcome of any game my life will go on as before. I was reminded of that this weekend with the opening of yet another college football season. I joined a group of friends at a sports bar in town to watch the big game - Georgia vs Clemson. There was the expected cheering, eating, drinking, and fun, but the outcome wasn't what I had hoped for. It was a tight game, but my team lost in the end, and although I was disappointed I didn't take it too seriously. After I got home from watching the game I didn't dwell on the loss; I didn't lose any sleep over it; and I didn't stew about it the following day. Because it is after all only a game, and in the grand scheme of life its outcome has very little meaning.

How Long is Long Enough?

Everyone who experiences a loss in their life handles it in their own way. There is no timeline showing how long a person should grieve or exactly when the grieving should end. I believe we each approach the task of grieving in the way that works best for us. Generally though, the first year is the most difficult for everyone. That is when we experience the "firsts" without our loved one - the first birthday, the first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, the first anniversary - the first everything. But making it through that first year doesn't mean you've reached the finish line in your race to complete the grieving process. Grief can continue in varying forms and intensities for years. So the only answer to the question of how long a person should grieve seems to be as long as it takes.

I began writing my blog in May 2011 just over two years after Eddie's death. I wrote regularly in the beginning in an effort to tell the whole story of his suicide and what it did to those of us who were left behind. Writing proved to be great therapy for me, and my blog (unexpectedly) seemed to offer comfort and inspiration to others. I was surprised at the number of people I heard from telling me of similar experiences they had been through in their lives. I never knew how "common" suicide is until I experienced it in my own life. My writing has tapered off during the past year. I've mainly written when something specific happened that I wanted others to know. There have been a couple of times when I've thought I was ready to end my blog only to have something come up later that I felt needed to be shared.

I recognize now the time has come to bring my writing to a close once and for all. My blog has provided an outlet for expressing my grief, anger, sadness, frustration, guilt, resentment, and questions. It served its purpose, but I believe continuing to write about my experience now is only keeping the wound open for me. I have reached the point where I feel it has been long enough. It is time for me to let go of the past in order to move ahead with my future. Letting go completely isn't easy - I have to let go of not only what happened but also how it made me feel about myself.

A very close, special friend put it best to me recently when he compared the aftermath of Eddie's death to a broken glass. He said I have been sweeping up the pieces for four years, and it's time for me to stop sweeping now. He told me I have cleaned up all I can, and I'm not responsible for fixing or repairing what happened - I cannot put the glass back together again. He was very firm with me (which I obviously needed) and told me things I've heard a hundred times before - what happened wasn't my fault, I didn't cause it, I couldn't have prevented it, no one blames me so I shouldn't blame myself, I have nothing to feel guilty about, and I have to give myself permission to be happy again. The difference was this time I actually began to believe all of these things are true.

Until now I've been afraid to let go because I thought it also meant forgetting. But I know now that isn't true - letting go does not mean forgetting. Eddie was a part of my life for almost 30 years, and I will remember the good times we shared. He is the father of my child. He had many positive traits that made him a very special person. He is a part of who I am today, and he will be a part of me for the rest of my life. Eddie made the choice to end his life - it was his choice and his alone. Now I am making my choice - I choose to continue my life and to make every effort to be as happy as I possibly can. I believe I have reached my finish line, and all I can say is it took as long as it took.

"Lord, help me to realize how brief my time on earth will be. Help me to know that I am here for but a moment more. We are like grass that is green in the morning but mowed down and withered before the evening shadows fall. Teach us to number our days and recognize how few they are; help us to spend them as we should." Psalms 39:4; 90:5, 12 (TLB)

Please Remember Me ~Tim McGraw

"When all our tears have reached the sea
Part of you will live in me
Way down deep inside my heart...
The days keep coming without fail
A new wind is gonna find your sail
That's where your journey starts...
Remember me when you're out walkin'
When the snow falls high outside your door
Late at night when you're not sleepin'
And moonlight falls across your floor
When I can't hurt you anymore...
Please remember me."

http://www.cmt.com/videos/tim-mcgraw/34926/please-remember-me.jhtml

The Merry-Go-Round

I posted this from Lee Brice's I Drive Your Truck on my Facebook page a couple of days ago ..."I've cussed, I've prayed, I've said good-bye, shook my fist and asked God why, these days when I'm missing you so much." I chose this because it expresses perfectly what I've done and how I've felt this past week. Normally I compare what I've experienced to being on a roller coaster filled with highs and lows - happy and up one day, sad and down the next. This week has been more of a merry-go-round though. I've done everything the song says...I've gotten mad and cussed, I've prayed while at the same time questioning whether my prayers are worth the effort (though I know they are), I've blamed Eddie, myself and others. I've gone round and round with these feelings and emotions and always end up back where I started, with that same old burning question "why"? Unfortunately I'm no closer now to having an answer (and probably never will be) than I was four years ago. For the most part I do pretty well throughout the year, but I've learned to expect a setback during the weeks surrounding the anniversary of Eddie's death. I know now to prepare myself for periods of sadness and even depression during this time. Every year I tell myself that I'm going to go somewhere and get away from everything, but so far that hasn't happened. When it comes right down to it I don't ever seem to have it in me to just pick up and go away. I always end up doing the same thing - remembering, reflecting, reading, and ultimately writing.

During my time of reflecting this past week I realized several things...some I already knew but needed to be reminded of; others I'm just now learning and accepting for the first time. I was reminded once again how many wonderful family members and friends I have who saw me through the difficult times four years ago and are still there for me when I need them now. I had cards, calls, texts, Facebook messages, people who went to dinner with me, and those who just listened when I needed to talk. I am truly blessed and grateful to have these people in my life. Something not so positive that I was reminded of is how much anger and bitterness I'm still carrying around. I've worked to overcome these feelings, but they're still there buried inside and resurface from time to time usually when I least expect it. I've realized that until I deal with these feelings once and for all I'm never going to be able to completely forgive Eddie or even myself for what happened.

Recently I've been wondering whether I might be ready to have a serious relationship in my life again. I've decided after this past week that the answer is no. I took several things to the cemetery this week, both for Eddie's birthday and the anniversary of his death. One of these was a balloon that said "I love you, today, tomorrow, always." I chose that particular one because what it said is true. Despite the problems we had during the last several years of our marriage, the things we dealt with together before he died, and what I dealt with alone after his death, I never stopped loving him - and I never will. We were together for almost 30 years, and he will be with me for the rest of my life. The love I feel for him now may be different from what I felt when we were together, but it's a form of love just the same. If I ever decide to have a relationship with someone else, they will have to be understanding and willing to accept that Eddie will always be a part of me. Another reason I've decided I'm not ready for a serious relationship is that I don't tust easily (if at all). As bad as that may sound I've had to accept that it's true. My experience has caused me to constantly question myself as well as others. Until I can deal with this, just as with the anger and bitterness, I won't be ready for a relationship with anyone else.

I've also realized this week that at some point I will have to leave Columbus. I do not believe I can ever find peace, be content, or feel true happiness again living here. There are just too many reminders, memories, and even ghosts around every corner. I know I may not be able to move for a couple of years though. Because of the economy and cuts in education, I can't give up the job I have and expect to find a position somewhere else. No place is going to hire someone with 28 years' experience and a six-year degree when they can get a beginning teacher with a bachelor's degree for much less money! I understand I will just have to be patient, but when the situation is right I know I will want to move. I've mentioned to a couple of friends from my hometown that I might want to move back there one day. They think I'm crazy because in all honesty there's not much there (in terms of things to do) - no shopping malls, nice restaurants, theaters, or entertainment of any kind. But as I've told them, my hometown is a connection to a time in my life that Eddie wasn't a part of. As Miranda Lambert's song The House That Built Me says "I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else; I thought that maybe I could find myself."

The things I've thought about and reflected on this past week may prove something that a few people have said about me - I think too much and overanalyze everything in my life. While this may be true, I personally don't believe there's anything wrong with it. I think and analyze in order to understand and try to make sense of what has happened. It's something I've always done and will probably always do. I've tried to change, to relax a little more, to not think so much, and to let things just happen, but that's not me. While I know I can't control everything in my life or make things happen the way I want them to, thinking and analyzing are a part of who I am and what I do. Those who truly care about me and want to be a part of my life will accept me as I am and not expect me to change.

"We don't 'get over' the deepest pains of life, nor should we. During an average lifetime there are many pains, many grieves to be borne. We don't 'get over' them; we learn to live with them, to go on growing, deepening, and understanding." ~Madeleine L'Engle

Whatever Will Be Will Be

As hard as it is to believe another March is here. It seems the older I get the faster this month comes back around. This will be the fourth year since Eddie's death. This entire month is always difficult but the week of March 13-20 is especially hard. I've made up my mind though that this year I'm not going to dwell on the negative. I'm going to do what I can to remember the good, and I plan to keep myself as busy as possible throughout the month. I started on a positive note by spending last evening talking to a good friend for several hours. Throughout our conversation I was pleasantly surprised at how often I was able to mention Eddie without it making me sad. I've already made plans to spend this coming weekend with friends from South Georgia, and we're also going to see Elton John in concert March 20th. I know none of this will stop me from remembering what happened, but I've learned that surrounding myself with friends and activity is the best way to get through the hard times.

I've thought a great deal recently about where I've been, where I am now, and where I'm going with my life. I guess I've developed a somewhat matter-of-fact attitude and am slowly but surely making decisions and moving ahead. I don't like what happened, but I've had to accept that it did happen. I may not like the changes Eddie's death forced me to make, but I've made them just the same. I've learned that no amount of looking back or wishing can undo the events of the past, so I may as well look ahead and focus on the future. I accomplished my goal of completing my specialist's degree - now I need a new venture to devote my extra time and energy to. I haven't decided yet exactly what that will be, though I am considering several things. For now I will concentrate on the things I already have in my life - my family, my friends, my job, my personal relationships - and I'll approach my future the same way I'm dealing with my past - by accepting that I can't force things to turn out the way I want them to. Like the old Doris Day song says "Que Sera, Sera, whatever will be, will be, the future's not ours, to see." 

Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow
by Helen Steiner Rice

"Yesterday's dead, tomorrow's unborn
So there's nothing to fear and nothing to mourn,
For all that is past and all that has been
Can never return to be lived once again.
And what lies ahead, or the things that will be,
Are still in God's hands, so it is not up to me
To live in the future that is God's great unknown,
For the past and the present God claims for His own.
So all I need do is to live for today
And trust God to show me the truth and the way,
For it's only the memory of things that have been
And expecting tomorrow to bring trouble again
That fills my today, which God wants to bless,
With uncertain fears and borrowed distress.
For all I need live for is this one little minute,
For life's here and now and eternity's in it."

Opening the Door

I read back over my last two posts and noticed how drastically different my attitude and emotions were from one to the next.  While it's true that I'm still on a roller coaster when it comes to my feelings, I can honestly say there are many more highs than lows now.  I may have periods when I get down and even a little depressed, but these are few and far between compared to four years ago.  I've accepted what happened in my life and adjusted to the changes it caused.  Now I'm at a point where I feel like it's time for some changes of my own choosing.  The problem is I'm not sure what it is I want to change.  I love my family, friends, and my children at school, but I have to wonder ... Am I ready for a different job?  Do I want a new house?  Do I need to move to a new town so I can have a fresh start?  It could be one of these.  It could be all of these.  It could be none of these.  I haven't figured that out yet.  I just know I feel the need for change.

I've also been contemplating whether it's time to change my attitude about the possibility of a relationship in my life one day.  Sometimes I think I'm ready and want that again, but as soon as the thought enters my mind I get scared and slam the door shut on the idea.  I've had people tell me the only way to find out is to take the chance.  Others have told me it's not worth the risk.  I value the advice of my family and friends and respect everyone's right to their own opinion.  But I know ultimately I am the only one who can make these decisions, and hopefully I'll recognize if and when the time is right.  I came across a poem recently by Shel Silverstein that seemed to reinforce my thinking ...

"There is a voice inside you
That whispers all day long,
'I feel that this is right for me,
I know that this is wrong.'
No teacher, preacher, parent, friend,
Or wise man can decide
What's right for you -
Just listen to the voice that speaks inside."

I've been told by others that I think too much - that I overanalyze everything I say and do - and maybe they're right.  Sometimes I wish I could be a little more spontaneous, even a little bit of a risk-taker.  When Trey graduated from high school I gave him a cd of Lee Ann Womack's I Hope You Dance.  I told him that was my wish for him as he began his adult life.  I've listened to that song again and wonder if now it's time for me to apply the words to myself ... "I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance; never settle for the path of least resistance.  Living might be a chance but it's worth taking.  Loving might be a mistake but it's worth making.  When you get the choice to sit it out or dance - I hope you dance." 

I know this isn't the time of year to make any major decisions, so I'm not planning to do anything right now.  It's even possible that some or all of these feelings will go away in time, though I really doubt they will.  In the meantime, I'll keep trying to figure things out and work on slowly opening my doors just a little.

"Each and every day is a given choice.  To start over, move forward, or change directions all you have to do is decide." ~author unknown

I Hope You Dance video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2SfmcNg8js

It's That Time of Year

Four years ago this month my mother went into the hospital for what was supposed to be a routine appendectomy.  She came out with a diagnosis of cancer.  Six weeks after her diagnosis, following a long battle with alcoholism, my husband took his own life.  To say this is not my favorite time of year is putting it mildly.  I prepare myself as much as possible for these upcoming anniversaires each year.  I try to stay busy and focused on other things.  But the thoughts are always there lingering in the back of my mind, and I know they will eventually come forward.  Sometimes I can tell when they are about to surface, so I do what I can to brace myself.  But at other times they come crashing in without warning and knock me for a loop.  That's exactly what happened this past weekend.  Things were going along very smoothly, and I thought this year was going to be different, maybe even easier.  I couldn't have been more wrong.  Without warning, all of the memories and feelings associated with this time of year hit and hit hard.  I have no idea what caused them.  Was it a song on the radio or a picture I came across?  Was it a sound or a smell?  Was it a trip to the gym or to a particular restaurant?  Was it something someone said?  I have no idea.  I just know it happened, and this time I wasn't prepared. 

Although I wasn't prepared for this to hit when it did, I at least recognized it for what it was - a "grief spasm" - which I have written about before.  According to the book Experiencing Grief by H. Norman Wright a grief spasm is "a normal, sudden, unexpected, upsurge of the emotion grief," and the best way to handle this out-of-control feeling is to "acknowledge it and wait for it to end."  I'm not sure how well I handled it this time, but at least I didn't go completely off the deep end.  I'm sure I said some things I shouldn't have said, did some things I shouldn't have done, went out when I should have stayed home, stayed home when I should have gone out, spent too much time alone, or spent too little time alone ... who knows ... there is no right way to handle it.  All I know is that as quickly and unexpectedly as it hit, it ended in much the same way.  For almost three days I felt as if I had gone back in time to when this all started.  I questioned everything and everybody in my life.  At one point I wanted nothing more than to pack up and run away so the memories couldn't find me.  I even went so far as to tell my son that I wanted to move someplace new where I could start my life over.  I didn't do anything drastic though, and on the third night it was as if someone flipped a switch, and I was okay again.

I doubt very seriously this was the only one of these episodes I'll have this time around.  After all, I still have the anniversary of the events in March to go through.  I can hope though that maybe it just came early this year and won't come again.  If it doesn't I'll be extremely grateful.  But if it does I know I'll get through it just as I have every time before.  And in the meantime, I'll try not to drive others crazy, scare anyone with my wild ideas, or run off to another country to live!

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do." ~Eleanor Roosevelt