What is "NORMAL" anyway?

You know, sometimes I have to sit back and remind myself I can't let life just HAPPEN to me. That I need to TAKE CHARGE! GRAB THAT BULL BY THE HORNS! GET STUFF DONE! GO! GO! GO! NEVER STOP! It's freakin' exhausting.

But then life throws you a curve ball and NORMAL gets tossed right out the window.

Life threw our little family a curve ball last week as we said our final farewell to my sweet Mother-in-Law. She was one of the best people I've ever known and she will be missed. She accepted me right from the start and I loved her.

Hubby is so very sad. He said, "If everyone would stop asking me how I'm doing I'd probably be OK!" But it's not just that. So many thoughts. So many memories. And there's absolutely NOTHING I can do. Nothing I can say. Nothing that will help. And I feel so very, very helpless.

I can't grab the horns. I can't get stuff done. I can't go.

I have to stop. Reflect. Be solid and stable and THERE.

So, what is NORMAL? Normal is making sure he knows I'm here for him, no matter what. Remembering not to ask him how he's doing, but instead, asking what he needs or how I can help. Normal is letting him know I've got things under control at home if he needs to be with his sisters to grieve or do whatever needs to be done on their end. Normal is giving him time and space when he wants it. Or, smothering him with hugs and love when he needs it.

I can't FIX this.

The kids are sad, too. It's hard for them. They have so many good memories of their Nani. I asked girl-child about her best memories last night. She said she had two which stood out: The time she and boy-child were helping their Nani wash dishes in her little kitchen in Big Stone Gap, VA and they argued over who got to use the chef scrub brush. And the time they helped Nani make her special chocolate bundt cake for their daddy's birthday and covered the entire thing with thin candles - all over - and they called it the Spaceship Cake. And also many, many animal memories. Nani had lots of animals.

They have their memories, for which I am profoundly grateful.

I have to let my little family grieve in their own ways. And I'm grieving, too. I couldn't have searched the world over and found a better Mother-in-Law. I definitely lucked into a wonderful extended family.

So right now, our NORMAL is grief. Our NORMAL is trying to do the day-to-day. It's fresh and new and hard right now. But we WILL move forward.

And it will never be exactly the same again.

TTFN
JMS

OBIT: http://www.johnsoncitypress.com/Obituary/2017/10/16/Ellen-Ginger-Nave-Shell

A light that burned too brightly, snuffed out too early

On April 23, 2015, I lost one of my dearest friends, Nikki.  The world lost a wonderful person and Heaven gained an angel.  If you follow my blog at all, you know that I typically don’t name names here – or I try not to – because I don’t want my ranting and raving and rambling to affect someone else and my opinions are my own.  That being said, my friend is now gone, and I am devastated.  Selfishly devastated for my own loss of a treasured friend, yes, but even more so, I am devastated for those she left behind: her loving husband and their three beautiful little children (ages 9, 6 and 2); her mother, who lived with them and their entire family.  To say that this is tragic would be an understatement.

As anyone who has dealt with loss and grief knows, there are many things that run through your head at once.  Disbelief coupled with hurt and overwhelming pain.  Unthinkable.  Unimaginable.  Indescribable.   The entire thing only serves to leave giant, gaping holes in those left behind. 

Nikki’s light burned so brightly.  She quite literally vibrated with energy.  I don’t think I ever saw her truly still.  She was a fabulous mother, a wonderful friend, and a beautiful, beautiful person inside and out.  I’m going to miss her terribly.  But more than that, now that I’ve had a very teeny tiny amount of time to think things through (sorry about the alliteration) is this overwhelming GUILT that I feel.  And I think – I know – it’s because I feel like I was a terrible friend.  I also know she would give me that patented Nikki look and tell me I was crazy and to get over it.  Then she’d probably roll her eyes or smack me (literally, but lovingly) upside the head.  I can’t help but think of all the times I forgot something important or wasn’t able to take her calls when she phoned, or couldn’t make it out to her house for a visit after they moved away from town.  I hope she does know I loved her; love her still.

And aside from this inconceivable loss, there are several other issues that are plaguing me on a personal level.  My own mother died when I was quite young.  Not as young as Nikki’s kids (I was 15, my brother was 11 and our sister was 7), but still, I know what it is to lose your mother.  I need to say here that I am in no way attributing Nikki’s loss to the loss of my own mother, but there are a lot of similarities here that must not go unnoticed.  My mother died and left behind an oldest girl, a middle boy and a youngest girl.  Nikki left the same.  And I’m wondering, now, in my own small way, if I was not meant to go through the loss of my mother, and all that meant for me growing up, in order to be here for Nikki’s sweet babies; to at least give them someone to talk to when and if they need it.  And believe me, if I had had someone I felt comfortable enough to talk to about all the (pardon me) crap that went on in my life after I lost my mother, I would have been a lot better off for it.

I’ve known each one of those kiddos since they were born.  The oldest (9) used to fall asleep in my arms at church every Sunday.  All three of them know me as Aunt Jennifer.  At one time or another, they’ve each been hugged by me, kissed by me, loved on by me, disciplined by me, taught by me, bathed, dressed and tucked in by me.  I’m not a stranger to them.  And as Nikki’s friend (and as Kevin’s friend) I hope that I will be allowed to continue to be Aunt Jennifer and to be there when they need a momma-figure. 

And that is something else, too.  In no way do I expect to take the place of Nikki.  No one else can be “momma” to those babies.  But Kevin is lucky that he’s got a TON of strong women to help him with the “momma” stuff if and when he needs it. 

I know I’m all over the place with this post, and I’m sorry.  I’ve had a few days to think about it and still don’t really know what I think.  I’m numb.  And if I’M numb, I can’t even imagine how Kevin feels.  Everyone is going to tell him that his kiddos are his first priority now, but really that’s not true.  He is his own first priority, because if he doesn’t take care of himself, he won’t be able to take care of his kids.  He’s got an amazing support system.  He’s got a community full of people who love him.  He’s got so many things to be thankful for.  But he doesn’t have his Nikki.  And I cannot even imagine that loss.  Losing a parent, while devastating, is not the same as losing a spouse.

So, however you worship, say a prayer for Kevin and the kiddos.  They’re going to need every ounce of support they can get.

TTFN
JMS

A moment of brutal honesty

In chatting online with a long-time friend last night, I came to some conclusions that I may not really have arrived at if not given an opportunity to actually think about them. In a moment of brutal honesty, I'd like to share with you the following conversation. My friend's name has been omitted, though I will say that she was the guidance counselor at my high school years and years ago and knew me when I was, quite literally, at my absolute worst emotionally.

GC

This is totally off subject but someday, when you have time and feel like it, I would love it if you could talk to me about what was going on with you in high school, and how you overcame whatever it was that was making you so so unhappy, What worked to help you? and what didn't. I am so proud of the life you have made for yourself, but I would really like for you to talk about what turned you around- if you can and want to.

ME

I can tell you right now. It was a combination of having lost my mom at 15, my dad having remarried too soon to a woman who slapped me across the face and told me to get the F out of her house, living with a grandmother who had not one clue about how to raise a teenager in "modern" times and not being allowed to do anything with friends that a normal teenager would do.

GC

So how did you find your way, instead of going to the dark side?

ME

I really don't know. I guess it was probably because I was afraid to become like those around me? Fear was a great motivator for me back then. It's also the reason I never got into drugs or alcohol in any real way. Fear. I was afraid to get caught. Afraid to become something less than I could be. Afraid of becoming like my alcoholic/abusive father or simply horrible step mother. Or of being so out of touch with reality or modern day society that I didn't understand things. I was afraid of not performing to the absolute best of my ability. I think fear was probably - at that time in my life - a major player.

As I grew older, wiser - whatever - I overcame a lot of those fears and have learned to be stronger for overcoming them.

For example (and maybe not the best one) the day I drove on the highway for the first time - all by myself - was a HUGE thing. I was TERRIFIED of driving on the highway. My mom was afraid of it and so was my grandmother so I probably picked that fear up from them. When I moved to Tennessee, and took a job in Knoxville, for a long time I was able to get to and from work just driving back roads. Taking the long way around, which was stupid and a waste of time, energy and money. So, one day I decided that I'd just get on the highway and go one exit down. Just one. And I did that. I was terrified, but I did it anyway. And I did that every day until I was totally comfortable with it. Then I moved another exit down and so on until one day I was driving all the way to work on the highway. Then the big test was driving all by myself to South Carolina (Greeneville) to pick up my husband. I was cured. But again, it was a FEAR that drove me. No pun intended.

GC

I'm thinking your mom did a pretty good job when you were young. Somewhere you learned to put one foot in front of the other. I am sorry you were so afraid.

ME

I was afraid that if I didn't learn how to drive on the highway that I'd box myself into a certain kind of life and maybe affect my own children. Project my own fears on them. I still struggle with that some days, but my kids are not (thankfully) afraid of much.

GC

You are a masterpiece

ME

LOL! Hardly. I struggle every day to keep myself together. But now, I do it not for myself - I do it for my family. For those that rely on me. My life has never, ever, truly been MINE. It's always belonged to someone else, been ruled by someone else, or something else (fear). But thank you.

GC
Well, your life will become your own, with time. In the meantime, you seem to be raising amazing children. That is a pretty important thing and when you are my age, you will cherish that as a wonderful life production. Having pride in your children is priceless, though you should certainly have pride in yourself!!!!

And not a part of that conversation, but in closing of this post, I do have pride in myself.  Most of the time. I'm working on it.  A little bit.  Every day.  And some days it's a lot harder than others.  But the good definitely outweighs the bad now, and for that I am so very thankful.

TTFN
JMS

Good Stuff Happening!

Oh boy.  There's been A LOT going on lately!  I don't even know where to begin.  Some stuff I can talk about and other stuff I can't, but honestly, it's all good.  

First of all, as stated in one of my last couple of posts, VBS is over for another year.  It seems like I live year to year in fear of, preparation for, or recovering from VBS.  It's always a TON of work and it's always SO much fun, and it's always SO exhausting - but the kids have a great time (and not just my own) so it's also TOTALLY worth it.

I posted on Facebook the other night that I'm still "reeling from all the good" and that's still very true.  

Good friends bought their first house and are moving nearby, which is not only awesome for them (new house, YAY) but awesome for me, 'cause they'll be so close!

I went to the endocrinologist the other day and he proclaimed me in good health.  "Don't come back for another year!"  That's always music to my ears!  Apparently, 2 years and a couple of months post surgery, my body is adjusting well to the lack of a thyroid.  Meds are good, no adjustments needed, and the ultrasound looked all clear.  So, yay me!

And something else going on with me (something good) that I can't really talk about online, but that a lot of you will know about already, or find out about soon.  (No, I'm not pregnant.)  But definitely a major life-changing thing coming up that I am totally excited about and which I am feeling most overwhelmed and humbled by.

Father's Day Weekend was great.  We spent some time at the zoo that Saturday with Hubby's sister and her hubby.  Excellent day, and I hardly even got sunburned!  (Another bonus!)  And even though Father's Day this year happened to fall on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the death of my beloved mother, I'm OK.  I think maybe the overwhelmingly positive things balanced the very negative thing.

TTFN
JMS

Letting it Go: A thoughtful commentary on one person's experience with grief and loss

Oh, my.  By now, I’m sure you have heard the song Let it Go from Disney’s movie Frozen. Right?  What?  You haven’t?  Well, I’m sure a quick YouTube search will enlighten you.  I honestly don’t have time to type out (or even copy and paste) the entire song’s lyrics here.  Suffice it to say it is (in this person’s opinion) a song about giving up and just doing whatever you want, regardless of the consequences.

And kids (including my dear daughter) are singing it all over the world.

Now, don’t misunderstand me.  I’m not criticizing.  I actually like the song.  It’s…catchy.  It’s an ear worm that you wish, after three solid days of singing it to yourself, that someone could surgically remove it from your brain. (I think I’ve even seen a comic panel about this very thing; surgically removing a song stuck in one’s head.)  I suppose most kids don’t really understand what the song is about, and that’s probably a good thing.  But what about those kids who do figure it out?  Will there be behavioral consequences for parents to deal with?

Yeah – really not going there.  And, as much as I like the song, I also don’t like it.  Ugh.  That’s totally convoluted.

But what about that phrase let it go?  And I don’t mean within the borders of a Disney movie.  I mean out there.  In the real world.  What does it mean to let something go?

I tend to be a Let me give you my two cents worth kind of person and I hope that you’ll bear with me.  I somehow have equated this whole let it go fad to my own personal grief and long-standing sadness, so this is a difficult post for me.  It will be difficult, I think, for others in my small but adored circle of friends and family, too, but I cannot apologize.  This has been a long time coming.  I have a story to tell.

***

I’m coming up on the 25^th anniversary of the death of my mother.  She died, after a long, 7+ year battle with cancer, on June 15, 1989.  I was fifteen when she left this world.  I remember that day as if it happened yesterday and yet, I also have blocked it out and after 25 years I think the memory is a little fuzzier.  I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing.

All I can say is it happened on the last day of my Freshman year in high school and I went to school that morning knowing (like some people just know it’s going to rain or how others know when someone is lying to them; instinctively) that I would never see my mother alive again.  I remember feeling wooden, robotic, going through the motions of a fifteen year old girl on her last day of school.  Sitting in homeroom, I knew when Mr. Lagasse’s classroom phone rang, that I was the one the call was about. Sure enough, he turned around and caught my eye.  I started gathering my things.

Molly said, “What’s up?”

I said, “I’m pretty sure that my mom died.”

Who can really respond to that?  She knew darn well I was not joking in any way.  She was my best friend.  She remained silent.

A school resource officer came to meet me at the classroom and I remember being asked to clean out my locker but I don’t remember actually doing it.  Then somehow I was at home and there were people everywhere and someone asked me if I wanted to see her before the coroner came to get her body.

Ok.  I’m done.  I can’t go into that day any more deeply.  I’m struggling hard to maintain a modicum of composure right now.  So let’s move on, shall we?

***

What is grief?  Going to my source for all knowledge, the great and powerful Wikipedia, Grief is a multifaceted response to loss, particularly the loss of someone or something to which a bond was formed…a natural response to loss. It is the emotional suffering one feels when something or someone [an] individual loves is taken away. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grief)

I feel like, while on one level that definition is accurate, it can in no way accurately describe how grief feels.  And grief feels different for each person.  Some people can let it go and move on with their lives, and others, like myself, do a good job of faking it but cannot let it go.  It is with me. Every. Single. Day. Of. My. Life.  Period. 

Even now, 25 years later, and after a whole lot of growing up, I still think of something I want to tell her and have been known, on a rare occasion, to pick up my phone to try to call her…only to realize that she isn’t there anymore.

I think the loss never leaves. That the hole it creates is always there, but we learn to fill that hole with other things so the loss (whatever it may be) seems less and less over time.  But sometimes, when we think about it directly, the hole magically empties of all other things and becomes that great loss all over again.  A giant, gaping  hole in yourself that you now need to work to fill again, with other, ordinary, everyday things.

So when I say, “I understand,” when talking with another person about their loss or grief, I truly do understand.  Again, every person’s experience with grief and loss is different.  But very few people have lived the very definition of the word.  I think I can honestly and accurately say I am one of those people.

I had a conversation with a good friend about this very thing the other day.  She is dealing with her own gaping hole of loss, having just lived through another anniversary of the death of her beloved father.  I said some of these same words to her and she encouraged me to write them down – to share them with others.  And I hope, in some way, they can help.  I’m not sure who they’ll help, or how, but maybe they will.

TTFN
JMS