Today my husband Jason and I are celebrating seven wonderful years of marriage. Wonderful, but certainly not easy. We've been married for seven years, yes, but together for thirteen. I can think of so many couples that haven't made it past their seventh year of marriage, or if they have, the union was crumbling by then. Marriage is hard, but so worth the fight.
We go on day to day looking beyond the things that perhaps aren't so perfect, and then one day something happens. It seems all those little things align in such a way that they create a hole right through the center of it all. The trick is to realize there's a hole in your boat before it sinks. Sometimes it's harder to admit you've sprung a leak than it is to fix it - then, by the time you decide to try and patch it, the water has gotten too high to breath.
It's amazing what can send a relationship into rocky water. For us it was death. In particular, my husband's dad's death. I'm not totally blaming all of our problems on that one thing, but it's the event that aligned all the little things up resulting in a hole. It just seems so strange to me that this event - losing someone we love so much so unexpectedly - could spring a leak in our boat. This is when we should be leaning on one another to hold each other up. Instead we've drifted downward into our own sorrows, leaving the other person with no one to lean against. Perhaps we felt we were each carrying enough weight of our own and didn't want to heavy the load for the other. Perhaps it was pride, not wanting the other to see how weak and shaken we were. Perhaps it was shame, because we didn't feel strong enough to hold the other up. For me it was all of these things. I think perhaps my husband was leaning and I let him fall. I let him fall because I felt too much weight on my own shoulders and was ashamed that I couldn't carry my own, let alone his - I couldn't ask him to carry it for me because I didn't want to hurt him anymore than he already was.
It was out of love I did this. Love for my father-in-law and love for my husband. The problem with all of this love is that it makes you do stupid things. Most of the time you think it makes you act like a fool to win someone's heart, but in my case I failed to use the love we have to hold our boat together. Now we're up to our ankles in water.
We'll make it through the rocks though. We've gotten out the tools to repair the hole, and we have buckets ready to bail out the water. After seven years of marriage, I'm still learning how to love. I'm still learning new things about my husband. I'm still learning new things about me. We're still learning new things about us.
I love my husband, and I have no doubt in my mind that my husband loves me with his whole being. Someday we may just get it right. Maybe when we're celebrating our 50th...
Monday, June 30, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Over-Friendly Ice Cream
So yesterday was a rough day for me. I was feeling depressed and needed to get out of my messy house. My kids, while not being bad and playing very nicely together, were driving me nuts! I was trying to get something done and all I heard was "Mommy" every two seconds. OK. The problem was mostly me - we've all been there - I snapped and yelled at them. I felt so terrible. My children then told me it was OK to be grumpy sometimes, but you have to try to do something that might make you feel not so grumpy. Words I've used a million times... I told them going out together for ice cream would probably do the trick. They, of course, thought this was a stellar idea as well!
Off to Friendly's we go! Oh yeah - I didn't want any ice cream. I wanted peanut buttery, chocolately gooiness in my belly. We even warmed ourselves up with mozzarella sticks. We all decided it was the best lunch we had eaten in a long time.
We all ordered something different and took turns sharing bits of our ice cream with each other (and Lily tried them all too). It was fun. It really did bring me out of my grumpy depression. All I had to do was look across the booth from me and see Coen and Ravenna playing and sharing bites of sundae with each other and then giving a spoonful to Lily to make me smile. How lucky I am.
At one point I was sharing my yummy gooiness with Lily and heard the other two laughing saying, "Taste mine now!" I look up to see my children, basically french kissing! "Stop, now! Just... STOP!" I was so disturbed. They simply explained to me that they were tasting each other's lips. The waitress was coming to check on us just as "the event" took place. She couldn't stop laughing.
Our new lesson is that we don't lick other people. We especially don't lick each other's mouths - we don't want to share any yucky germs with anyone else, and we don't want to get anyone else's yucky germs.
I still think the look of horror on my face has them confused though...
Off to Friendly's we go! Oh yeah - I didn't want any ice cream. I wanted peanut buttery, chocolately gooiness in my belly. We even warmed ourselves up with mozzarella sticks. We all decided it was the best lunch we had eaten in a long time.
We all ordered something different and took turns sharing bits of our ice cream with each other (and Lily tried them all too). It was fun. It really did bring me out of my grumpy depression. All I had to do was look across the booth from me and see Coen and Ravenna playing and sharing bites of sundae with each other and then giving a spoonful to Lily to make me smile. How lucky I am.
At one point I was sharing my yummy gooiness with Lily and heard the other two laughing saying, "Taste mine now!" I look up to see my children, basically french kissing! "Stop, now! Just... STOP!" I was so disturbed. They simply explained to me that they were tasting each other's lips. The waitress was coming to check on us just as "the event" took place. She couldn't stop laughing.
Our new lesson is that we don't lick other people. We especially don't lick each other's mouths - we don't want to share any yucky germs with anyone else, and we don't want to get anyone else's yucky germs.
I still think the look of horror on my face has them confused though...
Friday, June 6, 2008
Left behind
After Jason lost his mother, Pam, he allowed me to share the words he sent to family and friends telling them of the loss. With so many people wondering how my husband is, I asked if I could again share his words and his feelings. Below is the letter Jason sent outon May 31st, the day we lost his dad, Scotty.
Well, it's mighty late at night (for us old people anyway - it is only 10:00 after all), but I guess after my day, I'm allowed to be pretty exhausted. I have more news.
It's been three weeks since I lost my mother. I've been dealing with a lot of crazy, albeit common, emotions. Some anxiety. Some depression. Some confusion. It's been a mixed bag. But I've started to heal a little bit. Things have finally started to look up. So, imagine my shock when three weeks to the day of my mother's death, I receive word that my father has only weeks to live. Imagine my dismay when I get a call at 3:45 the following morning and arrive at the hospital at 4:15 to stare at my father's unblinking eyes, his peaceful state piercing my heart to the core.
That's probably a little overdramatic, but I just don't know that I care at this point. 22 days after I lost my mother, my father has now been taken from me as well, and it's safe to say that I'm in a state of shock. I don't know what to do, what to feel, what to say. I can't even cry because all I feel is anger. I really don't know why this had to happen. They were just there a month ago. Now, they're gone.
Isn't my dad supposed to pull Coen and Ravenna and Lily onto his lap so he can read them a story? Isn't he supposed to sneak them candy when I'm not looking? Isn't he supposed to teach them how to swing a golf club like the pros? Isn't he supposed to be there to see his grandkids do all the things that I did? Isn't he supposed to stand by me and smile and laugh when the kids are acting crazy? Why can't I have that?
But that's all I'm left with right now, just questions. My dad was a good man. My mother was a good woman. I accepted my mother's death, something I had grown "ready for" over the course of 30 years as her disease ravaged her body. But my father was supposed to be there for me because she couldn't be. And now he's gone too. Why? Just another unanswered question, I guess. Something else I'll have to learn to live with. But it's not right. And it's not fair.
My father always told me life wasn't fair, but I refused to believe him. Maybe he was right. I thought we had more time together. I didn't get to say the proper goodbyes to him as I did with my mother. My father was moved from ICU with an estimated one to two months left. Twelve hours later, he was gone. Please don't wait to say tomorrow what you feel today. You don't know what tomorrow will bring.
My love to all. -Jason
Well, it's mighty late at night (for us old people anyway - it is only 10:00 after all), but I guess after my day, I'm allowed to be pretty exhausted. I have more news.
It's been three weeks since I lost my mother. I've been dealing with a lot of crazy, albeit common, emotions. Some anxiety. Some depression. Some confusion. It's been a mixed bag. But I've started to heal a little bit. Things have finally started to look up. So, imagine my shock when three weeks to the day of my mother's death, I receive word that my father has only weeks to live. Imagine my dismay when I get a call at 3:45 the following morning and arrive at the hospital at 4:15 to stare at my father's unblinking eyes, his peaceful state piercing my heart to the core.
That's probably a little overdramatic, but I just don't know that I care at this point. 22 days after I lost my mother, my father has now been taken from me as well, and it's safe to say that I'm in a state of shock. I don't know what to do, what to feel, what to say. I can't even cry because all I feel is anger. I really don't know why this had to happen. They were just there a month ago. Now, they're gone.
Isn't my dad supposed to pull Coen and Ravenna and Lily onto his lap so he can read them a story? Isn't he supposed to sneak them candy when I'm not looking? Isn't he supposed to teach them how to swing a golf club like the pros? Isn't he supposed to be there to see his grandkids do all the things that I did? Isn't he supposed to stand by me and smile and laugh when the kids are acting crazy? Why can't I have that?
But that's all I'm left with right now, just questions. My dad was a good man. My mother was a good woman. I accepted my mother's death, something I had grown "ready for" over the course of 30 years as her disease ravaged her body. But my father was supposed to be there for me because she couldn't be. And now he's gone too. Why? Just another unanswered question, I guess. Something else I'll have to learn to live with. But it's not right. And it's not fair.
My father always told me life wasn't fair, but I refused to believe him. Maybe he was right. I thought we had more time together. I didn't get to say the proper goodbyes to him as I did with my mother. My father was moved from ICU with an estimated one to two months left. Twelve hours later, he was gone. Please don't wait to say tomorrow what you feel today. You don't know what tomorrow will bring.
My love to all. -Jason
Monday, June 2, 2008
Blindsided and left numb
If you had asked us just a few days ago, we would have told you that Jason's dad is moving in the right direction. He had been in ICU for three weeks and we were finally getting some answers and progress. He has been sick for about a year and a half, and has been in an assisted living home for almost six months. It was just temporary until he got his strength back. Jason and his stepmom had gone out last weekend and found a better home for him and spoke with the therapists to make sure they showed him some tough love. A year from now we would looking back on this whole episode and said, "Wow, can you believe how far you've come? Here you are swinging a golf club again!"
While on the air Thursday night I got a tearful call from Jason's stepmom, Mary Ann, around 9:30. She went to visit Scott and he told her that he had Mulitple Myeloma. It's a type of blood cancer. He also told her that the doctors couldn't treat him. He would never survive chemo, and even that is only a long shot. So, inbetween songs I had to call my husband to tell him that his dad was dying. It was probably one of the shittiest calls I had to make. This, just three weeks after losing his mom to MS. That we knew would come, but not this.
Friday afternoon Jason and Mary Ann went to the hospital to meet with the doctors to get some answers they didn't have the heart to ask Scott. Prognisis: "a couple of weeks, maybe a month. But if I came back on Monday and had found he passed away over the weekend I wouldn't be suprised." ... sonofabitch.
The kids and I hadn't seen him in almost a month since he had been in ICU. They moved him to pallative care on Friday afternoon and we were up there the first chance we got. Everyone was. I spent an hour with him before I had to head in to work, and Jason and the kids stayed about 4. He was so happy! He had missed his grandbabies so much. The kids had painted him pictures on Tuesday for his birthday and they've been waiting to give them to him. Coen has been waiting for him to get out of the hospital to have a birthday party for Grandpa. That's all he's been talking about. A few friends stopped by, and after everyone left it was just him and Mary Ann. She said he talked her ear off for an hour. She hardly said a word. It was such a gift from God.
When your phone rings at 3:47 am it's never a good thing. We got dressed and rushed to the hospital. By the time we got there at 4:10 he was gone. We missed him by 10 minutes.
Here we are again. Going through the motions like robots this time. We can't stop crying, but we feel so numb at the same time. really, WTF?
Everyday I check the mail and put all the sympathy cards from Jason's mom in a basket. We now have it separated so her cards go in one spot and Scott's another. I still have thankyou notes to finish up from Pam's death, and next week I will start writing them for Scott's. We feel like such a burden to all of our friends and family. People rallied so much around us when Pam died, and here they are again.
I swear, if I have to rummage through the box of pictures I have for Jason and his family, I'll shoot someone. I love looking at them, but I'm collaged and slide showed out. And all I can say to myself is, "this sucks."
goddamn, sonafabitch, this sucks... that's all ther is right now.
While on the air Thursday night I got a tearful call from Jason's stepmom, Mary Ann, around 9:30. She went to visit Scott and he told her that he had Mulitple Myeloma. It's a type of blood cancer. He also told her that the doctors couldn't treat him. He would never survive chemo, and even that is only a long shot. So, inbetween songs I had to call my husband to tell him that his dad was dying. It was probably one of the shittiest calls I had to make. This, just three weeks after losing his mom to MS. That we knew would come, but not this.
Friday afternoon Jason and Mary Ann went to the hospital to meet with the doctors to get some answers they didn't have the heart to ask Scott. Prognisis: "a couple of weeks, maybe a month. But if I came back on Monday and had found he passed away over the weekend I wouldn't be suprised." ... sonofabitch.
The kids and I hadn't seen him in almost a month since he had been in ICU. They moved him to pallative care on Friday afternoon and we were up there the first chance we got. Everyone was. I spent an hour with him before I had to head in to work, and Jason and the kids stayed about 4. He was so happy! He had missed his grandbabies so much. The kids had painted him pictures on Tuesday for his birthday and they've been waiting to give them to him. Coen has been waiting for him to get out of the hospital to have a birthday party for Grandpa. That's all he's been talking about. A few friends stopped by, and after everyone left it was just him and Mary Ann. She said he talked her ear off for an hour. She hardly said a word. It was such a gift from God.
When your phone rings at 3:47 am it's never a good thing. We got dressed and rushed to the hospital. By the time we got there at 4:10 he was gone. We missed him by 10 minutes.
Here we are again. Going through the motions like robots this time. We can't stop crying, but we feel so numb at the same time. really, WTF?
Everyday I check the mail and put all the sympathy cards from Jason's mom in a basket. We now have it separated so her cards go in one spot and Scott's another. I still have thankyou notes to finish up from Pam's death, and next week I will start writing them for Scott's. We feel like such a burden to all of our friends and family. People rallied so much around us when Pam died, and here they are again.
I swear, if I have to rummage through the box of pictures I have for Jason and his family, I'll shoot someone. I love looking at them, but I'm collaged and slide showed out. And all I can say to myself is, "this sucks."
goddamn, sonafabitch, this sucks... that's all ther is right now.
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