Riding The Waves

My last couple of blogs have sparked some controversy.  I'm not going to deny I suspected it would.  Raw emotions and honesty tend to do that.  Especially when they are clustered close together.  But I'm getting this out there for me, not those who read it.  And I'm not going to apologize for it - its how I feel.  Sometimes feelings just aren't pretty....

Image can be found here

I'm not going to deny it.  Its been a rough few days.  The weekend was tough.  I wish I could lift a mirror to my life sometimes - maybe then people could see more clearly.  The oncoming emotions are often referred to as waves.  And we are riding them.  All of us.  Whether we're dealing with elevated emotions due to loss, illness, stress, family, or so forth, or whether we are dealing with the feelings that come on a "normal" day. Some days these emotions hit fast and furious - ranging in extremes in moments.  Other times they seem to linger - unable to escape the less appealing, or unwilling to let go of the more pleasant....  If there's on thing you can't avoid, its the constant stream of ever changing, often unpredictable emotions.

I don't surf.  I'd love to try, but in the landlocked Prairies there just aren't that many waves.  But I've watched surfers enough to know that even the best of them don't catch every wave.  Some waves they ride out standing tall, far above the water.  Others they catch but never really have an opportunity to ride - keeping their heads and bodies upright but little more.  And every so often a wave catches them completely unaware, and they just go under - resurfacing later to try the next one.  Once in a while... on a rare occasion...  I successfully ride a wave out, but most days I'm like that middle surfer.  No finesse.  No long, graceful ride.  Just trying to keep my head above water.  Maybe stand up a little.  And then there's the other times.  Bam, that water hits.  And I find myself underwater, gasping for breath, trying only to claw my way to the surface.  The good thing about those is that I've come to realize the waves don't stay over top of you forever....

For most of the weekend, that has been me - drowning.  But in true ocean fashion, just as quickly as a wave hits, a wave can pass.  With another one right on its tail.  Another chance to try it again.

I wasn't even sure I had surfaced from my last one when the next opportunity hit.  And it came in the form of a small voice on the phone.  Gavin, downstairs, talking to his grandparents.  Mommy upstairs making supper, with the speaker phone turned on so I could listen to it... and at least have an idea what he was up to.  Its the first time in a long, long time that I have just been able to listen to my son.  Not be the one spoken to - or ordered about.  Just listen, and hear.  The wave that hit wasn't sadness or grief.  It wasn't anger.  It wasn't frustration.  Just pure pride.  That's my big little man down there.  He has a daddy.  He'll always have a daddy.  But he is who he is because of me... and him.  In one way, I suppose I am luckier than some.  I have his full attention.  His full heart.

That's not to say everything is great, that life is right.  I'm still sad.  I'm still angry.  I'm still frustrated.  I still feel alone.  But for that moment - this moment - I also feel somewhat okay.  I'm going to bed feeling okay.  And that alone is something to celebrate.

There's going to be a couple of tough days looming on the horizon.  I'm already anticipating Wednesday and Thursday will bring some anxious moments, and yes, some tears.  I'll probably be back to treading water at minimum.  Maybe underwater.  But that just means I'm going to enjoy this view from on top the wave for as long as I can - at least until "real life" starts up again.  After all, isn't the view from the top, the freedom of riding the big one, and the possibility that it will happen again the reason surfers keep coming back to the water?  Isn't it what keeps us all coming back for more?

My Personal Black Hole

Photo can be found here....

They say that anger is a natural stage of the grieving process.  That you should embrace it, rather than fight it.  So here's my admission to all of you... I'm finally angry.  At many of you.  I know its not logical.  And now that I've admitted it, I don't feel any better.

I'm mad at Kurt's family, for passing down the genes that have caused so many problems.

I'm mad at the medical world for not picking up on this sooner.  Really - why must three successive generations die before you figure out something is wrong?  Especially when a simple test would have discovered it.  And why must you figure it out AFTER we've had children - putting them at risk as well.

I'm mad at those around me, for leaving me when I need them.  For not being there for whatever reason.  For not picking up on the fact that I still need so much more than I'm asking for.

I'm mad at God... if there is a God...  For creating a world where 35 year old new fathers can drop dead on a dime.  And for making my family the example that it can happen.

I'm mad at everyone out there who goes about their happy little lives, having the family we so wanted, loving the love I've been denied.  I'm mad at everyone who is given the opportunity to grow old, and then laments at the problems it creates.  Who has a spouse, but complains that they watch too much TV.  Who has more than one child but comments on how much work that can be.

As much as it pains me to say, I'm maddest at those I love the most....  Kurt, for not taking better care of himself.  He couldn't have prevented it, but maybe he could have bought us some time.  For leaving me.  Us.  For dying.  I'm mad.  But I still love him.

Gavin, for complicating my life so much right now.  For making this so much harder than it really is.  For needing so much from me.  For living.  I'm mad.  But I still love him.

And finally the biggie.  I'm mad at myself.  For not getting there in time.  Not trusting my gut and responding sooner.  Not being able to save him.  Not being able to cope since.  I'm mad at the fact that I still cry.  That I still hurt.  I'm mad at me for not being able to do more - then, and since.  I'm mad at me for who I've become.  What I've done.  What I haven't done.  What I think.  Just about everything since that morning, actually...

I'm mad at me for being mad.  For being human, I suppose.  I don't know what I expected.  Just soething else...

They say anger either powers you forward, or consumes you.  With no effective outlet - no one to hear me - I've turned my anger inward on myself.  Anger fuelling anger.  Like a black hole, slowly drawing energy from its surroundings - its eventual implosion on itself.

I know its not positive.  Not the anger management techniques I would teach in an emotions management class.  But when nothing else has worked, what else can you do.....

Too much anger only causes hatred.  At least this way, no one but me gets hurt.  Despite all my anger, the only person I end up actually hating is myself....

The Missing Piece

Image can be found here

That's a how I see my life right now.  If you are a puzzler, you know right away what I mean.  It's the elation of nearing the end of a complex, multi-piece jigsaw puzzle, and the disappointment as you realize you are missing that final piece.  Its no big deal, right?  In the scope of things, what is one piece?  You've put together thousands.  Enough of the pieces are there that you can clearly see the final image anyhow, and it looks pretty darn good.  You should be able to look beyond that one piece that is missing and notice what you have accomplished.  No one else notices or cares.  It's just a puzzle.  Just a piece.

Except that puzzle is my life.  And that piece is my husband....

And some gaps you just can't ignore.....

The Invisible Man...

For so many reasons its been a rough 24 hours.  Some you would understand.  Some you wouldn't.  And none of them I care to relive.  ButI 'm feeling sorry for myself right now, so please humour me....

Whether people admit it or not, we all want to make some sort of imprint on the world.  Or most of us do any way.  I know I do.  Not our little corner of it... but the larger world in general.  If nothing else, we want to make a big enough imprint that we are noticed, not ignored.  And remembered, not forgotten.

Recently, I posted a saying on Facebook....

One person replied.  Just one.  And I've never even met her.  Which to me, means one of two things... Either no one reads my Facebook anymore, or no one would notice if I was gone.  I believe its the latter...

Lets look at a scenario - a street falls off the face of the Earth tomorrow.  It happens to be the one I live on.  How long would it take you to realize?  Even if the street's name was posted, would you put two and two together and really notice I was gone?  How many of you would be affected?  And I don't mean oh, that's too bad... shed a few tears affected.  I mean really affected.  Like things won't continue as normal - or at least that it would take time until they did.  I'm guessing no one.  Gavin for sure - if he's lucky enough not to be in the house at the same time - but other than that, not many.  My parents maybe... Kurt would have known right away.  But today, my life only really matters to a two-year old...

I've become invisible.  Or so it feels, anyway.  Walking through the malls at Christmas time was an interesting experience.  It really felt like no one else could see me... that I could pass through them, or they through me.  Like there was a shield dividing my world from theirs.  Like I was watching a movie play out around me...  It was as though I didn't really exist.  That feeling continues to this day.  There's Gavin and me... and then there's everyone and everything else.  Out there somewhere.  Just beyond my reach.

Gavin's in bed.  Asleep.  If I were to drop dead right now, no one would notice for hours.  Kurt lay dead for 45 minutes before I knew... this would be much longer.  Hours for sure.  Maybe even days.  No one would hear my two year old's cries.  No one would even notice that I was gone.  Or care.  Life would just go on...

I notice the same with Kurt's life and legacy.  How no one speaks his name.  Or wants to when I do.  How no one but me and Gavin seems to give him a passing glance...  Its a humbling, but rather depressing moment when you realize that the mark you have worked so hard to leave not only on the greater world but on your little corner of it is written in washable ink... erased maybe before your time. Maybe before you are gone....

Or maybe no one read it in the first place....

Two Steps Behind....

Image: vorakorn kanokpipat / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Everyone says you have to keep moving forward.  Keep your eye on the prize and look to the future, without more than a passing glance to the past.  You can change your future with what you do today.  Your past is written.  Those of us who have such a large part of us in the past know that's not always so easy....

I admit I spend a lot of my days in the past.  In my alone time, when Gavin is safely tucked in bed, the past is where you can find me.  Some of this is beyond my control.  I still have awful flashbacks regarding the moments before, during, and after Kurt's death.  There's a two and a half hour period which is engraved in my mind with the most permanent of pens, that I can't escape even when I want to.  The smallest of triggers sends me back to a place where I can feel, see, hear, and re-experience everything.  Its not a journey into the past I want to take.  But its one my mind still takes me on multiple times daily.  

But there are pleasant forays into yesterday as well.  Memories of times gone by, days that will never be played out in exactly the same manner.  Its often in looking back that I first start to cry, but in my tears also find reasons to smile.  Significant life-changing moments that can never be erased.  And even more so, the little things I don't want to.  They way he looked at me.  The smell of his cologne.  The feeling of my fingers running through his hair.  The sound of his voice as he said my name.  Things I can only have by looking behind.

Yes, I can admit it.  Despite everyone's best intentions, I still find much more comfort looking backwards rather than forwards, to an uncertain, unexpected, and unwanted future...

But looking behind doesn't just mean I spend my days enveloped in memories.  I look behind me in the physical sense as well.  Regularly.  Hourly.  A lot.  

The most important part of Kurt's memorial service was, for me, the music.  Music was a huge part of who he was.  He in many way defined himself through the songs he listened to.  So in looking for music for the service, I wanted songs that defined him - defined us - and spoke to his life.  I don't remember a lot about the service.  But I remember the music.  And more specifically, I remember the first notes of the final song.  "Two Steps Behind" by Deff Leppard.

Where ever you go, I'll be two steps behind you.  Where ever you are, I'll be there to remind you... that it only takes a minute of your precious time... to turn around.  I'll be two steps behind you.

I don't know if Kurt really is two steps behind me, but when I need to find him the most, that's where I turn.  When I have that feeling that someone is watching me, I first look behind.  When my hairs stand on end and I get the feeling of uneasiness, I look behind.  When i'm talking to him, asking him where he is or what I should do, I look behind.  When the biting winter wind is forming ice crystals on my face, I turn behind.  When i'm driving, and feel the tears welling in my eyes, I cast a glance in the rear view mirror.  When I'm alone, and asking for a sign, I look behind.    Even as I'm typing this, I throw a glance over my right shoulder.  I'm always looking back.  I don't know what I expect to see.  A blowing branch as his spirit passes by.  A fading footstep.  A shadow.  A sign of presence, rather than absence.  Just something to say "I am here...."

I hope he's there, following me.  Giving me enough distance to forge my own path, but remaining close enough to catch me when I fall.  Always having my back, ready to intervene if I need him.  If we can't walk through life hand in hand, I really hope he is only two steps behind......

Today marks the first of the year.  A chance to leave behind the past and look forward to the future.  I'm moving ahead.  But with eyes cast behind....