ALS Still Sucks

This post is part of the Slice of Life March Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers.
Check it out and join us.

Suspenders

over a flannel shirt

red and black plaid

Long strides

ahead of me

Long, long spaces

of silence

And then the question.

Always just the right question

to get to the heart

Often on a drive

Memories

too many to even recall

let alone capture.

Four years,

at times unfathomable

at least for us mortals

left on earth.

30th Anniversary - The Abaya Anniversary?

This post is part of the Slice of Life March Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers.

Check it out and join us.

"Is this a sad day?" I ask my mom, as I come downstairs this morning.

She glances up from her iPad with a puzzled look upon her face, takes a sip of her coffee, the perplexed look remaining.

"It's the seventh" is my reply.

Realization dawns. "I hadn't thought about it."

I turn to her as I open the curtains, "So it wouldn't have been if I hadn't brought it up?"

Today would have been their 30th wedding anniversary. (Melanoma sent him to heaven just over a year ago.) For me, this is one of those days in which the tears will probably NOT come. Grief is funny like that - the days you would expect to stink sail by and the small moments of what would seem like 'normal' life knock you off your feet, the tears overtaking the minutia. 

Mom bought herself a new iPad a while ago and was looking for a way to ditch the old one. I took it knowing that my students or my own child could at least use the camera function. I then realized that with an old Defender case I could utilize the iPad for the Breakout EDU (which I wrote about here) Locks app. While I was getting the iPad ready (updating the iOS, downloading the app, and making sure there isn't anything I don't want students to access) I came across bunches of my mom's pictures. Of course these include Hymnbo (and lots of quilts, but that's another story). I wasn't expecting this. I teared up.

While we are at school today my mom is going on a 'field trip'. (The compound bus takes people shopping every morning to various places.) She is contemplating purchasing a new abaya since she is still here for three more weeks this visit, has plans for a visit in December, and her visa is good for years after that. I told her she should buy it from Hymnbo, as an anniversary present. I'll find out what she decided this afternoon.

Birthdays in Heaven

Today is was Hymnbo's birthday. This is his first birthday in heaven. In heaven I'm sure he doesn't care - neither age nor days hold any significance. Needing to feel special and be honored are no longer important either since they are always true, truer than we can ever imagine. 

I'm pretty sure there are no birthdays in heaven.

For those of us on the earthly side, the calendar turns to August 30th and he is my first thought. The tears well up. My next thought is of others who are no longer with us and all of us sudden the tears swell even more; not only is this our first year without him, but he died on my brother's birthday. My brother's birthday that we've had without him twelve times. 

(Side note: His dying on David's birthday was a comfort on the day he died. We figured they were off climbing mountains together. Grief does that; the same thing that makes us smile can also push our mourning.)

On top of all of this, last year on Hymnbo's birthday we had no idea it was the last one. His diagnosis came a few weeks later. As we sat around the table that afternoon, swelling with food and family fellowship, we planned a birthday cruise for a future birthday of his - a birthday that won't ever happen.

I miss him. 

It all happened fast.

I turn my thoughts back to the fact that he is in heaven - "hanging out with Jesus" as we have explained to my daughter as she first had to understand death a few years ago - and then none of the rest matters. Heaven is a pretty good place to be.

I sent my mom a message this morning. It was his birthday here, but not yet there (due to the ten hour time difference). I wanted to check in, but with her response any concern I had of the day being full of sadness vanished. 

Hymnbo LOVED ice cream. It's a great idea. Guess what we'll be doing after school.

Clearing of the 'Grief Fog'

I'm back!

I can't believe how little I have blogged in the past several months. The clearing of the 'grief fog', as my best friend calls it, brings perspective and rejuvenation.

Grief is a crazy thing and it doesn't always will rarely look and act like you expect it to. Looking back I know I was grieving long before he was gone. Cancer sucks and the last months of in and out the hospital and rehab and then hospice were a roller coaster. (I don't recommend having shingles on top of metastasized melanoma.)

Now he is 'hanging out with Jesus', as my six year old puts it and we are at peace, knowing he is no longer hurting. 

So, with the bulk of the expected funk ('cause I know it will still creep up on me) out of the way (or at least until summer when we are used to having him nearby to hang out with) I am starting routines that hadn't found their groove since we moved. (The stage four diagnosis came about the same time. As did my daughter's epilepsy diagnosis.)

Guess I have all kinds of fuel for the writing fire, which is good - since March is coming!