The Joker

Those that knew Jeff can contest, he was a kid at heart.  He had a boy’s spirit trapped in a man’s body.  I mean that in a good way, he was good and kind.  He didn’t gossip he didn’t have a malicious bone in his body.  He liked to joke, he liked pranks, he liked to tease, he was just as likely to pull your pony tail to let you know he liked you.  He still thought farts were funny.  Jeff was just fun.  And in contrast I’m really not.

I can tell you a witty story but I’m not likely to throw myself on the ground while pretending to strangle a Pepsi bottle.  And what is interesting is that this difference showed up in our parenting.  I noticed it early on with J1 (not the baby-lump stage) I actually really liked that stage but Jeff couldn’t wait until it was over.  J1 was about 6 weeks old when Jeff asked wistfully "when will he be big enough to play with me?" 

But once J1 was crawling, walking, mobile, playing.  Banging blocks together and laughing at anything.  That’s when a switch turned on in Jeff.  He was playful, he’d roll around on the floor with J1, wasn’t afraid to make fun of himself, or put himself into situations that were hilarious to anyone watching, and I have the pictures to prove it.

I’ll build a train set, but Jeff would build a train set and then pretned to be godzilla crashing through it – making a huge mess.  Or a complicated train track design that would expand into three different rooms.

Something that I noticed: was that I was the nuts and bolts of the operation.  Food, drinks, sign up for activities, run around town and school, buy the clothes, wash the clothes, set the clothes out for you to wear.  Jeff was the Party that you would go to.  What is sad is that now when my kids are left with the nuts and bolts the day to day life, the stuff I’m good at.  And there is no wild and crazy rock star party coming through the door at 6pm every night anymore.  And that means they are going to be different people.  They were destined to be different people, with a father that came home every night and played with them than they are with me.  And I have a hard time accepting that. 

I look at them at night, look at their faces after they have fallen asleep.  Tomorrow is a new day.  I see the child they were going to be: the ones that had a father.  And it’s still hard to accept.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

Treasure

I am actually a very tidy person.  I cannot stand clutter and I tend to put things away.  When I moved in with my roommate ARD in 2004 I warned her of that and told her "if you don't get mad at me for moving your shoes: I won't get mad for moving them."  It worked with her.  It was a subject of many arguments with Jeff, LOL.  Jeff was not tidy.

However, I have always had a few areas of shame, where I am not tidy: my basement, the garage, and my office.

The basement suffers from the accumulation of all things I cannot find a place for in other areas of the house.  It also collects the things that I am considering giving away.  Only, with my minor hoarding tendencies it takes me 3 to 5 years to actually get rid of the things I piled up in the basement to "get rid of".  It was worse with Jeff.  Jeff had MAJOR hoarding tendencies so those things I was ready to get rid of... didn't go for 10 years.  It's a process with me: I filter and move stuff from my house to collect in the basement and then finally when the basement is overloaded I realize I haven't used the junk in 5 years and get rid of it.

The garage was all Jeff, actually.  Before our current home I never had a garage and it really was his "man space" but Jeff being Jeff never put anything away.  It was a hassle for my father in law JPB who would spend hours putting stuff away whenever he came to work on a project with Jeff only to turn around and find the garage a mess 2 weeks later.  I was capable of ignoring the garage and only harbored minor resentment for the days I had to help Jeff organize it (and not because I was helping but because I knew it was as futile as Sisyphus and his rock).  Last August my father in law and Jeff's best friends BT and KK came to clean out the garage for me and I was able to park my car in the garage for the first time in the 7 years I owned my house!  Since then, I have still managed to keep the car in the garage, but the kids toys were taking over the periphery.

I managed to get both these areas tidied up in the past few months and then found some motivation for tackling my office.  I hate to file, both at work and at home and I usually wait until some extraneous event (like taxes) forces me to actually sort my papers and put them away.  I hadn't done my filing in about 15 months and it was overwhelming.  I also piled all my pictures, scrapbooks, and memorabilia up in the office in a great big pile that was threatening to fall over.  I couldn't face the pile for fear of running into memories of Jeff so the pile kept growing.  New photo's of the kids and myself getting lost in the mix as I just couldn't bear to sort through it.

I bucked up and did it this weekend and I found a treasure: the picture above.  It is one of my favorite pictures of Jeff and it always makes me smile.  It reminds me that Jeff was fun-loving and enjoyed being silly, it reminds me of all his best qualities.  I had a few difficult moments as I sorted but I also was happy to find pictures of the boys, memories of the good years, and even a few questionable images of some of Jeff's fraternity brothers. 

I only sorted the pile, but I'm thinking I might be ready to actually do something meaningful with all these imagery's of Jeff.  Create some scrapbooks and albums that the boys and I can look through to keep his spirit alive.

I am thankful I did not continue to ignore this pile or else I would never have found this treasure.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

Russian Dolls

A few weeks ago I received news that I needed to consult yet another specialist for my son.  It immediately overwhelmed me and threw me into a week long depression.  Enough is enough.

I feel like I am trapped in an evil game with Russian dolls: when I started to investigate I opened the doll up and there is another inside and another and another.  The dolls are ticking like there is a bomb in the middle but I can't reach it.  There is no end in sight and I wonder what was the point in looking in the first place?

So many doctor's visits, OT, speech, gastroenterologists, ear nose throat, dentists, eye doctors.  I was so happy when we were all done with individual grief therapy but my running around town hasn't eased up at all as I am about to add yet another specialist to my weekly rounds list.

I was in my grief support group when someone asked how I identified myself.  I really don't.  I still think of myself as married, yet I also feel like a single mother.  When another woman said "there is a difference between single mother and ONLY-parent."

And she is right, a single mother (may) be able to call up the father and get some relief or there may be shared custody.  Me, I'm on my own and no matter how sick or tired or overwhelmed or stressed I am:  I am it.  The only-parent and I have to buck up and soldier through. 

I heard another person say that the definition of widow is "married but single".  I agree 100%.  I am single because technically in the eyes of the law and my religion my marriage ended at Jeff's death.  However, emotionally I am still married to him.  I know in time that feeling will wane but the fact that I am an only-parent will not. 

I have come to terms with where I am (right now) as it relates to my kids and all the doctors.  I really just wish it didn't cause my world to crash for a week.  Just another reminder that I am not super-mom.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

Avoidance and Minimization

I realized recently that I had neglected participating in events with the kids that I had forced myself to do the first year: no Monster Trucks, no NASCAR races, no Lego festival.  Last year I had a list, I planned the calendar, and emailed friends and family to join me at these events.  Right up until our annual trip to Punkin Chunkin (see footnote) in November when I finally cried "Uncle" and bowed out.  Since then, I haven't done any of it.  Weird thing is, I didn't even realize I was in avoidance.

Last week I took the boys on a mini-vacation where we went to two amusement parks: Sesame Place and Hershey Park.  Neither of which I had been too previously with Jeff.  I rode the roller coaster 11 times at Sesame Place with my boys and of course I thought of Jeff.  How much he would have loved doing this with his boys.  How we would have laughed as we tried to climb after them in the big rope tower, standing under the giant water bucket, sliding down the water slides, feeding the boys tons of gluten free junk food.  At Hershey Park, when the smell of chocolate hits your nose I just had to tell the boys how much Daddy would have loved this place.  We rode the Chocolate World ride twice (free chocolate at the end) and the boys were in heaven. 

I wasn't sad.  I thought of Jeff constantly and I tried to talk about him with the boys.  To keep him in their minds while we made these new memories.

Now this is the tricky part to describe.  What I realized, why I think I was avoiding things, is that I am making memories without Jeff.  Duh!  Right? 

Think of it like this: you are walking down a path in the woods holding the hand of your loved one.  Then you stop to read a trail marker, maybe a historical landmark plaque.  When you start walking again you are by yourself.  Your loved one is still at the marker.  After a few steps you'd stop and wait for them to catch up, take their hand, and continue your walk.

Only, I can't wait, not anymore.  I am now walking that path by myself and each step I take; takes me further away from Jeff.  Further away from the life and memories I had with Jeff. 

This is a harsh thought, one that leads to unconsciously minimizing the things that you do that make new memories (and don't even get me started on pictures, I have barely taken any in the past 18 months).  I have been avoiding and minimizing without even realizing it.  But now I know about it, I know I have to do walk on, I know I have to make memories, I know I have to take the kids places.

I might even have to start re-planning that Disney trip Jeff I and I were working on before his death.  And get out the damn camera.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

**footnote: Punkin Chunkin http://www.punkinchunkin.com/.  Jeff would describe Punkin Chunkin in terms of a horse race.  Where you are tailgating eating food and talking with friends and a horse would run by.  Only for Punkin Chunkin, it would be a pumpkin flying through the air.  It was just the kind of event that Jeff would discover and then cajole everyone into going to and ending up making it an annual event. 

Reminders of Death

When I was getting married my mother didn't want me to use calla lilies in my bouquet.  To her, it was a "death flower" something that reminded her of funerals.  But I didn't have that association, it was always my favorite flower.  It's odd the things I will always associate with death: a song, fruit, and lasagna.  Two of which I have run into in the past week and it got me thinking.

Lasagna, in itself does not scream: DEATH.  But, in the days and weeks and months that my friends and family fed me, there was a lot of lasagna.  I think we had a lasagna a week the first month and at one point I had 6 in my freezer.  I gamely worked on eating them once a month until I just couldn't face another one.  This is not a rebuke of the folks that fed me, just that lasagna has become a reminder of that time after Jeff's death.  I don't think I will ever voluntarily eat lasagna again.  Here is one time my new gluten free lifestyle is a win-win!

Fruit is an odd one - but then not really once you know the story.  In the weeks after Jeff's death many people who lived further away struggled with something they could send, other than flowers, and thus they sent Edible Arrangements.

 

I got a lot of these, in fact by Saturday, the driver from the local store remarked that he had been to my house every day that week and sometimes with multiple baskets.  I received an Edible Arrangement again a week ago.  I stood in my kitchen in shock, staring at the package, with the only thought in my head that this wasn't an anniversary date of any sort relating to Jeff or Jeff's death. Until I read the card.  It was a thank you. Unfortunately, I didn't feel thanked, all I could think of was that you get these fruit arrangements when someone dies. It turns out, these lovely fruit arrangements are something I can do without.

Sunday at church they sang Amazing Grace.  I was struck dumb, legs locked.  I discovered: I can't sing the words.  My throat swelled shut and I worked very hard to not cry.  I will forever associate Amazing Grace with Jeff's funeral and I doubt I will ever sing it again.  It is beautiful and moving and I'm just proud of myself for not bawling through it.

I wouldn't expect anyone to recognize these items as triggers for me or anyone else in grief.  They are random and personal.  You can't avoid running into a reminder anymore than you can avoid the bug that hits your windshield.  I'm learning to take a reminder in stride to keep on trucking after I smack right into one.  It isn't easy but it is necessary.  I mean, when fruit can through you for loop, what else can you do?

I didn't throw the basket of fruit away, I didn't walk out of church, and I just don't have to ever bake a lasagna again.  Just know that there are so many random reminders of death: sights, smells and sounds.  So if you happen to see me crying over a basket of fruit, I'm not crazy.  I'm just re-living the moment.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

I Just Want to Be a Mother Again

Do you ever want to be 4 again?  Throw yourself on the ground and literally kick and scream over the injustice of your sandwich being cut the wrong way?  I do.  Maybe not over my sandwich but I do sometimes want to kick and scream over the injustice of life.

One thing I struggle with since Jeff died is the changes I have had to make in my life.  At the time of Jeff's death, I was a stay at home mom (SAHM).  I had been a SAHM since the arrival of J2 and in classic "you don't know what you  have until it's missing".  I wish I still was.

Two months after Jeff's death, I was offered a job.  It was both a gift from God and a curse.  I was lucky because the company I work for is very flexible and very understanding.  I even told them upfront they weren't getting me at my best because of my circumstances.  They were fine with it.  And while I have an income I miss the time I had at home with my kids. 

My mother watches the boys while I work, there are dynamics at play there as well, but this isn't about that :-)  What gets me are the times my kids call me "Nanny" instead of Mom.  They quickly correct themselves but it's a reminder that I am not home all day.  But that someone else is, and that person is the first name they think of when asking for something.  I am sure other working mothers go through this, but the thing is.  I wasn't planning on it.  Jeff and I had agreed I'd stay home until Kindergarten for J2.  I liked that plan.  I miss that plan.

It also makes the evenings hard.  I get home and have to pick up, get dinner on the table, rush out for a sporting event or preschool board meeting.  It makes for a long day and it makes for a lot of "I have to do..."

What hurts is when J1 asks me to play.  "Mommy, I want you to play with me." and I respond "I need to get dinner going, I need to put the laundry in, I need to XYZ"  These things need to get done.  They have to get done to keep the house running and the people fed.  But every instance reminds me that I am not just a mother.  I am the breadwinner, I am the housekeeper, I am the gardener, I am the laundress, I am the bookkeeper, I am the secretary.  I do it all.  I have no help.  Which means I have less time to spend playing with my children.

Is this everyday?  No.  I often do get 30 minutes to play some street hockey or to build the worlds largest train track.  But it isn't everyday I do that.  And I hear more "you never play with me anymore" than I ever thought I would hear. 

This is not a slam on other single mothers. Just that this was not my plan. This was not the life I had expected and therefor it is another avenue of grief. To grieve over the changes in my life that have surfaced because I am now a single mom.  I am fully capable of doing it all, I have for the past year -- I just don't want to.  I just want to be the Mommy again. It breaks my heart and I don't know how to change it.

Instead, all I can think of is that I want to throw a fit.  Am I allowed?  Yes, I think I am due.  But do I do it?  No, I'm just to damn busy.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

What Would Jeff Say?

I mostly know what Jeff would say in various circumstances. 

What would he say about my new hair color?  He'd be mad!  He'd wanted me to go blonde for years, LOL.

What would he have said after J1's Celiac's disease diagnosis?  He would have started off with "what do you mean I can't have beer?" followed quickly by "I bet I can brew my own gluten free beer."

What would he have said when I wanted to buy a treadmill?  This one is easy because he was always against getting exercise equipment, so sure we'd never use it.  So when I completed week 7 of the couch to 5K program and ran 25 minutes straight on three separate days.  I said "Did you see that, Jeff?"  Out loud.  I'm proud of my accomplishment.  I'm sure Jeff would be as well.

Approximately 6 months after Jeff and I started dating we went on a joint diet.  Jeff always called it "The Diet".  And I think it's because it's probably the only one he ever did.  So unlike myself, I have dieted many times.  But we started "The Diet" and we did great as each other's moral support.  At the time, Jeff and I lost 60 lbs each.  We felt good, but we failed to add exercise into the equation and ultimately, we gained all the weight + back.

This year, in my rebuilding year, I decided to do another diet.  I recognize that I am the sole surviving parent and that it is one of my fundamental responsibilities to be healthy for my children.  That means loosing weight and exercising. It has not been easy.  I still have a great deal of stress in my life and adding in a new food plan and exercise routine is complicated to say the least.

I am half way through the year and half way to my weight loss goal.  Only, my biggest accomplishment is not on the pounds lost (70) but on the mileage I am accruing: 3.1.

I regularly run 3.1 miles, 3 to 4 times a week.  I am proud of that.  I have never run a day in my life (other than to chase someone on the playground).  This is new for me and exciting.  I just wish Jeff was here to see it.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

A Breakthrough

I learned the other day that I can make emotional breakthrough's with my grief, even though I'm not paying for therapy anymore.

It was simple in such a complex way.  I'd had a stressful day at work and I was grumpy over a series of events I had no control over.  I got home and pulled four ticks off.  The itty bitty, tiny ones, the one's "they" say you should worry about.  And I got sad.  Really sad.  Guess who would come home from work and search through my hair, look at my back and determine what was freckle and what was tick?  There is just no way to find these little buggers on your own, even if I could rotate my head like the girl in The Exorcist.  Before Jeff, my coworker and roommate ARD and I would spend time looking through each other's hair like monkeys.  But she lives an hour away now and I work with two men, who I like, but not enough to ask them to do a tick check on me.  It's kinda personal.  So then I got to thinking "Fine!  If I get Lyme's disease it's all Jeff's fault."

It took about ten seconds for my heart to catch up.  I was sad and feeling really sorry for myself so I had a pity party.  I am proud of myself for not self-medicating with food or drink.  And while I was physically defeated to the point I couldn't exercise that night I did what I needed to do and I reached out to a few friends. It was during those chats that I had my epiphany.

I was sad because I had depended on Jeff.  I hit these moments when my grief overwhelms me, drags me under the water, and it's triggered by something I depended on Jeff to do.

If you know me well enough, you get that.  If you don't.  Let me tell you something about myself:  I don't rely on others and I don't ask for help.  I once drove myself to the hospital with a concussion, broken nose and an arm broken in two places after being hit by a car because I was to damn suborn to ask for help.  And if you think that is bad, you should hear some of my really good stories.  I can't give an inch, not even if it's for my own good. 

I've said it before, but I'll say it again.  I don't know why it was different with Jeff.  My father said it best, at my wedding no less, that he sat up and took notice of Jeff after I failed to "rip his face off." That the daughter he knew and loved would have done so [over some minor infraction Jeff committed].  He knew then that Jeff was the keeper.

I know that my previous relationships never worked out because I struggled to be free of the necessity to rely on someone and love just doesn't work that way.  Somehow, I allowed myself to depend on Jeff,  rely on Jeff and he made me weak.  Love makes you weak in some ways but it makes you stronger in others.  It's a trade-off, a risk, a gamble.  My gamble just didn't pay out and now I am reaping the consequences.

I wonder know, if I know what the trigger is, if it will make it any easier going forward when I encounter something I depended on Jeff for.  Or not. 

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife