From Norway

Lately I have been wanting to go back in time, change things, make things different, feeling guilty, feeling like I could have stopped something…all in all just wanting him back. Yesterday I decided to pull out his MP3 player and get some music going…music has been hard to listen to lately, well, the past 4 months. Lido loves to dance and loves listening and I know his Daddy loved music and put together some Lido music so I thought it was about time we had some music going in the house because that is what we would be doing if Dodo was here. So I opened Dodo’s backpack to get the MP3 and I found some papers that I had put in there and promptly had forgotten about. One of the papers was a letter written by a student at the school to me, telling me of her time spent with Dodo. I hope that she does not mind me sharing it here (I won’t use her name) but it tells so much about Dodo and it also gave me some comfort at a time that I really need it…

Dear JVD,

Through internet and school we were asked to write about Douglas to you and your son. I choose to write you a letter instead of using the internet, to tell you how I meet Douglas and what kind of an impression he left behind. I must first say that I did not know Douglas personal, just through school. For the persons who read this, it may not seem all that special. But I know that Dodo has touched me as a person and for me the things you now will read about, is special.

From the day I started school in May 2009 I have been seeing Douglas around school but I never had anything to do with him before it was time for my Stage 1 private exam. It was scheduled but I was terrified of being judged in the manner that Douglas was supposed to do – so I bailed out a few days before the check.

Douglas was a busy guy so I caused him a little trouble at that time. My instructor and Douglas found another day for my exam, but now I was more terrified because I was scared that Douglas would be mad at me. Then, the day before my exam Dodo came up to me and asked if I was going to bail out again – I assured him I was going to do my very best the next day. He then smiled, giggled a bit and said good. Don’t let me down this time. It’s not that bad. I did not pu any trust in his words, it’s not that bad, but he was about to prove me wrong.

I came the next day, still quite terrified as I knw Douglas would decide if I was proficient enough to fly solo or he could think that my flying was awful. We started the exam and things went okay until I was supposed to do mathematics in my head and I totally got a brain feeze. That was when Dodo taught me something he called “pilotmath for dummies”. I could not tell him how many feet increased performance the helicopter would have in different types of pressure. But he taught me that in a matter of seconds.

Pilotmath for dummies.

I will never forget that. I actually use pilotmath for dummies every day, and every time I use it I think of Douglas and how lucky I am who got him as my stage 1 instructor. He also told me that he had a lot of tricks to remember stuff, because it was not too easy to get it all in. He told me to study hard and I would get there – just as he did. He really gave me a boost when he said that one day, I could be sitting on the other side of the table. Because he could see that I had it in me. Who was I to argue with one of the best pilot the school got? Douglas’s words that day, is something I will never forget and I know that he has touched me as a person in a very special way. For him, maybe, it was just another stage,  but for me it was the start of an amazing future as a pilot. I never knew an exam could be that fun and educational – and I know that it was all thanks to Douglas, an amazing teacher and pilot.

I passed my exam and went for my solos, the most special one: the first cross country solo. I always meet Douglas around school and he would always greet and ask how my training went. But one day is stuck to my mind. That was when Douglas asked me what kind of scary or weird situation happened on my first corss country solo? I thought about it for a second or two and I went for “nothing”. Then he sat down and said – think some more. I know it was something, everybody got a story to tell. I really don’t believe you when you say nothing. I gave it a better thought and of course there was somthing – so I told him “my story”. He stood up, smiled and said ‘you see. There is always something!’

Time and training went along and it was time for my checkride. I was standing outside the pilot lounge, waiting for the check rider to come along when Douglas asked me why I was so stressed. I told him I got my check ride and he asked me if I felt ready? Both yes and no was my answer. I told him I was scared that I would get too nervous and tense up – like I did on my flight with him. His answer: noooo…You got more hours now, you will do great. I’m sure of it. I believe in you so why don’t you believe in yourself?

That for me shows what a good person he was. He really thought I would make it, he believed I could do it. He could have walked away, but he took the little time to ask and respond. It’s the little things we remember, huh?

What I remember is that Douglas was a caring and thoughtful person who always took the little extra time just to catch up with the latest news. He was an amazing person, pilot and teacher. I will forever remember him and the way he influenced me in the beginning of my training.

And to end this letter I just really want to thank you for being such a wonderful person who supported your husband’s dreams even though it is a scary profession with high risks. I want to thank you for giving me and everybody else the opportunity to get to know Douglas and be able to learn from him. So thank you  for the opportunity we had, to get to know your husband Douglas.

Best regards,

“Norway”

Dear “Norway”,

I thank you very much for your words. I read this months ago and I am glad that I ran across them again yesterday. You see, lately I have been wishing that I wasn’t so supportive and wasn’t willing to follow his dream because that would have meant that he would be here with me today. However, your words reminded me that we are better people because of those that support us, love us and help us along the way. It reminded me that we, if we are lucky, can be greater than ourselves. We can choose to take the time to care about others and to support each other and thus no matter what happens in life, parts of us always live on. My question to my husband many years ago about what he dreamed of doing started a chain reaction where he made a difference in your life and showed you the support that you needed at the time. I have received other letters like yours that remind me that again, we are greater than ourselves if we take the time.

I know that I would have never not supported whatever it was that he wanted to do but it helps to hear words like this…ones where I see how he impacted people in the subtle ways of his personality. I loved him always for this as he supported me like this as well. He is a good soul.

Good luck “Norway” and safe flying,

Jesi

ps. The last thing Doug was listening to was Pink Floyd The Wall…

One of the things…

One of the things that I have been thankful for was the past three years spent in Portland with Dodo. It really gave us our time to develop as a couple, as a family and as individuals. It was nice to feel ‘grown up’ and to be able to make our own decisions without influence – other than each others. Sometimes right now I feel like the decisions that I make or things I want to do…well, too many people chime in. I’m tired of feeling not only helpless in controlling the situation I was forced in but the ones where I do and should have control over. It’s not just one person but many influencing. Sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed in Portland.

I’ve decided that Lido and I need a bit of a vacation so we are heading to warmer weather and seclusion. I really want to do this on my own so that Lido and I can figure out our way…to have an adventure just the two of us. It makes me so sad but I know we just need to live life and have some fun ourselves.

Things have been a bit of a roller coaster as of late. At times I feel in control and I can save crying for the evening and other times I feel like I can’t step out the door for fear of reminders of what I don’t have, what I lost, what I will never have. The fear of reality. It is just so strange, I know I’ve said it before, but I feel like this isn’t real. It is so strange. I read in a book that the moment that we decide that this is real is the point where we can move forward. I thought that I had come to terms with the fact that this is real and was ready to move forward, continue grieving and get to the point where I can remember Dodo without tears streaming down my face or the empty space in my chest hurting. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t supported his dream, hadn’t met him again…even if that would mean my life would be that much emptier at least he would still be here. The “what ifs” are looming over me.  I know that he would say this is completely rediculous but this is where I am. I just miss him so much that I would give everything up to have him back.

I think Lido and I need this little get-away together. Clear the head and start healing the heart.

16 Months

My Dearest Child,

You are 16 months old! And you understand everything that I say to you. Not that you listen to everything that I say to you but it is amazing how much you comprehend. We are beginning to get settled in our new home. It has been hard for the past couple of months for me so I’ve pretty much kept to the family room and playing with you. The past couple weeks though I have started venturing out to the rest of the house and getting things a bit more together and letting you roam freely downstairs. I know you like it and as long as things are pretty picked up we both do okay. You love to explore and I know that it is important for you to get to know your whole house.

You started going to daycare three days a week this past week and boy was that rough. By the third day you cried the moment I pulled into the driveway…It was pretty heart-wrenching. That entire week you refused to sleep in your bed and instead had to be with me in my bed snuggled right up next to me. I know a lot of the behaviors you had this past week was not only separation anxiety but worrying whether I was going to come back or not…I know you understand that there is a big part of our life missing and up until this point you had me to yourself. You were safe. Now you are getting out of your comfort zone and I just hope that you understand that I am here and always will be. I have made it a point this week to start an evening ritual with you just like we used to have. And I also make sure that I do all of my stuff during the day so that you have my undivided attention at night. I think that you like that.

You are getting two top teeth and besides your molars I think that you are done with adding teeth to that big smile of yours. You are still not talking a whole lot but you sure can say Yaya when you see her and hers is the only name you say that is absolutely clear! You love her very very much and have a lot of fun playing with her. You were the same with Abba. You could say her name as well and you just loved her too. What is it about you and older women??

You do very well brushing your teeth yourself and you are pretty good about letting me get in there as well. You think that all product that comes in a tube, tub, or vial is supposed to go on your hair. You help me get you dressed and undressed and have even started standing up and putting one leg in at a time into your pants. You have graduated to a booster seat at the kitchen table – no more highchair for you! You want to do everything that I do or someone else does and you want to do it by yourself.  You still give Panda kitty kisses and hugs. You give Daddy’s picture a kiss every night before we go to bed and always have a great big smile on your face when you see his picture. I pray every night that you dream of him and he is there with you. You love when we do “big hugs” and I squeeze the breath out of you…just like your Daddy would do…you just giggle and smile and want more. When you want something you take my hand and lead me to whatever it is that you want. Tonight when Yaya was here you wanted her to come play with you so you went over to her and took her hand and started tugging her to the family room. You still try and take everything apart and are still fascinated with anything that makes noise, lights up, moves if you push a button…you love it all. You also like when we put a DVD on in the evenings before going to bed. You climb up on the sofa and sit there and just watch fascinated with it. It has a lot of different animals and music and you love both. You look so grown up sitting there.

I am contemplating on whether or not you get a haircut…I’m holding out…however, you do have the mullet “high school hero” haircut thing going on. I just don’t want you to get it cut yet…sorry kid. I know that your Dad would be going crazy right now especially because part of hit whisps over your ears and he always hated when his hair got long enough that it would touch his ears. I always knew when he would come home with a new hair cut because the week before he would complain that it was touching his ears.

My child, I hope we laugh enough, have fun enough, snuggle enough. Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing a very good job right now. I hope your happy. I know that there have been so many changes over these past few months and I know I’m not always the greatest thing to be around but I just want you to know that I am trying my hardest and I am trying to make the best decisions for you and for me. I’m so sorry that you can’t have both of us. That hurts so much. Your Daddy and I really like the fact that we were going to be able to show you how much love we had for each other and for you but how to work hard, work as a team, make compromises, love, learn, laugh…so many things. It is a struggle for me to figure out how to keep so many of those things going because so much of it was because your Daddy and I were doing it together. I’m trying to figure out how to do all of that and find who I am now – who I’ve become. Because I am not the same person as I was 4 months ago. I will continue to change. I’m sad about this – not because I will become this terrible person but because I just want to stay the person that I was with your Daddy. So many things have changed that this is something that I want to stay frozen in time. I know it can’t because I do have to find who I am as an individual now and as a single parent. This scares me and it makes me sad.

I do love you so much my little Lido. I hope I am doing right by you. We will continue to work together and grow together and we will both move forward always knowing how much your Daddy loves us and that he will forever be watching over us.

I love you eternally my little one.

Your Mom

My Dearest Love

Doug,

It has been over two months now that you have been gone from our lives. I’ve done a lot of searching for you and all I have is an empty heart and a feeling that we are in no way connected anymore. I always believed that if anything happened to either one of us we would always have a connection – signs – dreams. I don’t know that I have had any of that. I don’t know if I am so sad that I can’t let you in right now or if there just isn’t anything beyond what we have here. Any higher existence. I am so sad.

I look back on the first week and how thankful I was that we had that one last weekend together as a family. Taking off at the last minute and just being together. I also look back on the nightmare that I had that Saturday night at the beach. The one where we were in the hotel room and all of a sudden I was dragged out of bed and just taken from you. I could see you still lying in bed and something was holding me, not letting me get to you. I struggled to reach you, yelling for you, trying to claw my way out of the arms of whatever was holding me. It all was so real. I could feel everything in the room, see everything in the room and just could not get back to you. Snatched away from you. I cried out your name and you woke me and held me and told me everything was going to be okay. I couldn’t sleep very well the rest of the night and just laid in your arms not wanting to go back to sleep.

The next day all I wanted to do was hold you and be with you. The rest of the week was that way. We were both busy getting ready for Liam’s and my birthday party that Saturday as well as my Mom flying in for a visit. I know we spent more time that week laying on the sofa, wrapped in each other. I wonder sometimes if I should have told you not to fly that day. To spend it with us. To not go. After that dream…was there anything that I could have done? Should have done? Kept you in bed for a moment longer that morning just in the hopes that if you were late for your first flight things would be different?

I yearn to dream of you. I haven’t. I think that I feel your presence at times but then I just feel like I have half of me missing that any little “sign” of you being near can never complete me…so I stop looking for the signs. I have stopped dreaming. I’m afraid to but at the same time I long to dream in hopes that you are there. That you can tell me that you are with us. That you will watch over us. That there is something more to this world even though you are no longer in it.

I’m struggling. I feel like there is this hole in the middle of my chest that will never be whole again. I can’t breathe. I have moments where I am keeping busy with things and find myself removing me from the pain. But when I return – it hits me all over again. I worry that you were in pain, that you were apologizing to me for what was going to happen. I told Sarah this the other night and she said that she didn’t believe that. That she felt that anyone who is in the moment of death – that part of your mind shuts down. That you accept what is about to happen. I just don’t know. I want to believe that and I so hope she is right. I don’t want you to have felt anything. I want for you to have had flashbacks of every great moment in our life together and in your life. I want you to have died in peace knowing that I love you so very much and so very deeply.  That I have been given a gift of you in my life. That I was given a person to love that loved me for everything I was and wasn’t. For all of my silly jokes, my controlling nature. I loved you for all you were. For the man that you were and how you made us more important than anything else in the world. For the man you were in that you would have given up flying if it would have made me happier to be back home…I hope you know, and I know you did, that I would never have allowed that. You were my world. You were my home. I loved the fact though that you would offer that. Even though I was passionate about that NOT happening. You were so many things. So many things that I hope to god that our son inherits. I see so much of him in you already. Your smile, your laugh. I am trying to teach him your hugs…he takes them from me but I haven’t gotten one yet. He’ll learn. He giggles so hard when I hug him hard. I think he thinks it is funny that the breath gets squeezed out of him.

Tonight we sat down and read a book in bed and he picked up your picture from my nightstand and gave it a kiss. My heart wept. I took out your patches and he played with them. Sticking them on the towel and taking them off. He would sit and look at them and shuffle them back and forth from little hand to little hand. I tried talking to him about you but I kept crying and all I could say was how much you loved him and how much you loved being a father. I told him that you would get excited about the prospects of teaching him to ride a bike in a few years….thinking about those things when he was only a few months old. I just still can’t imagine a life without you even though I have been living in one for the past couple of months.

I miss how easy it was. That we could just talk about things and we got it…even if we disagreed…we still got it. It was so simple. We had fun. We laughed. We had the same humor. I miss slapping your hand every time you picked at your nails. I miss laying on the sofa and you coming in and laying on top of me and wrapping your arms around me, your whole body around me. I miss how my face fit just right in the crook of your neck when you hugged me. I miss your smell, the touch of your skin, the noises you would make in your sleep. I miss how you could warm my whole body by just touching me with your hand. I miss putting my cold feet on your feet for warmth at night. I miss hearing about your day, about your students, about what you saw, did, ate…everything. I miss seeing you come home with a warm smile and a kiss for me and Lido.

I struggle because I feel like I need to be the father you were to our son. That I need to do the things with him that you would do. Interact with him as you did. I just want for him to know you so bad.

I want more time with you. We didn’t have enough.

I love you. Always have.

Your Wife.

My Dearest Love,

It has now been three months being without you. I didn’t have the heart to publish the above letter when I wrote it as I just felt that I didn’t get all of it right. That I missed so many important things. It is getting harder and harder to be without you. Christmas has come and gone. It was okay but I wished to god that I was not in town – that I was just laying on a beach somewhere with our son playing in the sand…I guess I’ll do that next year.

I hung your stocking on the mantle. It was hard to even open a Christmas box and I stayed in the basement crying for quite a while trying to get the nerve to walk up the stairs and put anything out. I only did it on Christmas Eve as Lido had so much fun opening presents at your Uncle S’s house that I felt I had to put out some holiday cheer for him. I hung the ornaments that I got you our first Christmas together on a little rosemary tree shaped like a Christmas tree that Sarah gave me. The past couple of days have been really hard. I truly do feel like it is getting so much harder. I cry more. If a person can hurt more – then I am.

I went through some boxes last night in the office and went through the file cabinet. I found an envelope full of Christmas cards from last year. I found the one that you gave me. I always thought it was so silly that people gave Christmas cards…but every year – I would find one under the tree.

I still don’t understand and may never – why someone like you, the love that you had, would be taken from me, from everyone? I can’t breath it hurts so much to think that you will never be here again. I can’t get past this. I can’t move. I can’t breath past the sobs. What happened?

I want you to know that you got all of it right. You made your family and the love for your family the first and foremost. You cared more about keeping us happy than about what you did as a career or how much money you made. You, more than anyone else I know, got it right. I always loved you for that. You taught me so much.

Doug, I don’t know what I’m doing right now. I so need your help. We were a team and I don’t know how to manage by myself. I’ve always been independent and never lost that but when you work so well with someone – you don’t know how to go on without them. I will never be the same person I was. I ache for you.

Helpful

I found this online and I thought it was very good to share with everyone. I wish I had this when some of my friends lost loved ones…I know that these words are pretty much exactly how I feel…

HOW YOU CAN HELP ME

Please talk about my loved one, even though he is gone. It is more
comforting to cry than to pretend that he never existed. I need to talk
about him, and I need to do it over and over.

Be patient with my agitation. Nothing feels secure in my world. Get
comfortable with my crying. Sadness hits me in waves, and I never know
when my tears may flow. Just sit with me in silence and hold my hand.

Don’t abandon me with the excuse that you don’t want to upset me. You
can’t catch my grief. My world is painful, and when you are too afraid
to call me or visit or say anything, you isolate me at a time when I
most need to be cared about. If you don’t know what to say, just come
over, give me a hug or touch my arm, and gently say, “I’m sorry.” You
can even say, “I just don’t know what to say, but I care, and want you
to know that.”

Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good. Ask me how I
feel only if you really have time to find out.

I am not strong. I’m just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feel
that you don’t see me.

I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I’m not sick. I’m
grieving and that’s different. My grieving may only begin 6 months after
my loved one’s death. Don’t think that I will be over it in a year. For
I am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I was
with him, the life that we shared, the plans we had for watching our
children and grandchildren grow, the places we will never get to go together, and the
hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled
and I will never be the same.

I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget my
loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and
love into the rest of my life. He is a part of me and always will be,
and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear.
Both are okay.

I don’t have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it has
happened and it is real, but there are some things in life that are just
not acceptable.

When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost and
alone. I feel badly enough that my loved one is dead, so please don’t
make it worse by telling me I’m not doing this right.

Please don’t tell me I can find someone else or that I need to start
dating again. I’m not ready. And maybe I don’t want to. And besides,
what makes you think people are replaceable? They aren’t. Whoever comes
after will always be someone different.

I don’t even understand what you mean when you say, “You’ve got to get
on with your life.” My life is going on, I’ve been forced to take on
many new responsibilities and roles. It may not look the way you think
it should. This will take time and I will never be my old self again. So
please, just love me as I am today, and know that with your love and
support, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forget
and there will always be times that I cry.

I need to know that you care about me. I need to feel your touch, your
hugs. I need you just to be with me, and I need to be with you. I need
to know you believe in me and in my ability to get through my grief in
my own way, and in my own time.

Please don’t say, “Call me if you need anything.” I’ll never call you
because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could
do for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance, let me give you
some ideas:

(a) Bring food or a movie over to watch together.
(b) Send me a card on special holidays, his birthday, and the
anniversary of his death, and be sure to mention his name. You can’t
make me cry. The tears are here and I will love you for giving me the
opportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reach
out on this difficult day.
(c) Ask me more than once to join you at a movie or lunch or dinner. I
may so no at first or even for a while, but please don’t give up on me
because somewhere down the line, I may be ready, and if you’ve given up
then I really will be alone.
(d) Understand how difficult it is for me to be surrounded by couples,
to walk into events alone, to go home alone, to feel out of place in the same situations
where I used to feel so comfortable.

Please don’t judge me now – or think that I’m behaving strangely.
Remember I’m grieving. I may even be in shock. I am afraid. I may feel
deep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I’m
experiencing a pain unlike any I’ve ever felt before and one that can’t
be imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.

Don’t worry if you think I’m getting better and then suddenly I seem to
slip backward. Grief makes me behave this way at times. And please don’t
tell me you know how I feel, or that it’s time for me to get on with my
life. What I need now is time to grieve.

Most of all thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping, for understanding. Thank
you for praying for me.

And remember in the days or years ahead, after your loss – when you need
me as I have needed you – I will understand. And then I will come and be
with you.

Roller Coaster

All of this is one big roller coaster. And I’m really not a big fan of roller coasters…especially this one.

One day I start to feel like I can manage and do fine and have some happiness and laughter – and I actually have laughter and happiness. Then the next two days I’m completely done with it all.  I think that the fog is lifting more and more each day, which brings no comfort. The past few days have been probably the worst since the crash and losing Doug. I don’t think it is necessarily because it was a holiday but more because I feel alone.

Completely alone.

It was supposed to be the two of us who raised our son. It was supposed to be the two of us who made a home, planned, dreamed. The two of us. The help I am receiving from family and friends is needed but it does not replace and never will replace what Doug and I had as a couple and as parents. I know I have come down hard on my Mom these past few days especially because I know she is only trying to help. But it is hard to discuss my son, my plans with anyone other than Doug. I’ve gotten so angry these past few days. I’m tired of being told things that I already have thought of…I just want him back.

My whole body just aches and my stomach turns constantly. I just miss him so much and the feeling of loneliness is just too much. The feeling of love and happiness that I once knew that only he could provide – the loss is too much. It hurts too much.

It is all definitely a roller coaster that I’d like to have never gotten on. It is just so completely unfair. A great, good, loving person taken. This isn’t the path that we were supposed to be on. This wasn’t in our future.

My heart is too heavy to write anymore. Maybe the roller coaster will take me on an upturn soon and I’ll write more.

Remembering

These past few days have brought remembering…of all things. It has been two months now and I find that I can allow myself to remember things about Doug and about us. About our life before. It isn’t easy. In fact, it is so hard to remember – to allow myself to remember. With remembering comes pain. With remembering also comes happiness…something that is also hard to have but needed.

I can go a couple of days with doing things. Going out with friends, running errands but after those few days, two days, one day, I find that it is hard to get through the next day, the next days.

Remembering has been good but hard with the start of the holidays. I try and remember all of the times we had but try not to dwell too much on what we would be doing right now. What we would be planning for the holidays…I do try and remember what we did in the past so that Lido can have those same things. So that he knows this is what we did before all of this happened. It keeps Doug near us. It keeps him a part of our lives.

I haven’t written Lido’s letter for this month…so I think I should with this post…

My Dearest Lido,

You are fourteen months. You have grown out of a pair of your sweatpants that were too big for you just a couple of weeks ago. I was thinking just today that I needed to find a place in the house to chart your growth…I think that we will be here for a long time. You have almost a full set of teeth and you smile just like your Dad. You have two little dimples that are in the same spot as your Dad’s and you are laid back, loving and you gave me your first real kiss tonight. It caught me off guard…I tried making you do it again but you wouldn’t. I’ll be ready the next time…although it was nice to be taken by surprise.

You are into everything and have been helping me put things together and even though I try and limit what you see me do (for fear of you figuring out how to do it yourself – or undo it) I love that you want to be a part of everything. You are not interesting in playing with your toys but are more interested in figuring things out, doing what I am doing. Just today I switched out three of the electrical cover plates with enclosed “baby proof” plates to hide the cords and within 5 hours of me doing this you had figured out how to twist the ones that don’t have anything plugged into them and take the entire thing off. You are unbelievable.

You love brushing your teeth. You have even let me do it once without a fight. You love your bedtime routine and if I forget to brush your teeth…well, you head to the bathroom and get your toothbrush. You have been having a lot of fun with new friends and playmates and love Ro and Bebe and Yaya.

You point to your Daddy’s pictures around the house which makes me feel good. I know that you remember him and that you will always remember him. The two of your were so great with each other. I look back on the nights prior to your Daddy’s death and one particular night stands out. I was trying to put you down and you just kept looking out your bedroom door and yelling for your Dad. I finally called for him to come up and you went right to him and went to sleep in his arms. I am so glad you did. I am so glad that you had that. I don’t know if somehow you knew but I am thankful that I have the memory of your Dad smiling because he thought it was so great and so cool that it was him that you wanted and only him. He loved and loves you very much.

I think that we are doing okay. I have my moments and I have cried with you in my arms but I do try to keep it all together most of the time. You definitely know when I need a bit of extra love and you also know when to get my attention to just focus on you – focus on this moment. That is very much your Dad in you.

I get sad sometimes because I haven’t dreamed of your Dad…then there are times when you’ll just look up and around the room and say Dadda and then go back to what you are doing. We are going through light bulbs like you wouldn’t believe. Just tonight as I was walking with you up the stairs, I told you that I was just talking to your Uncle Steve and that he is a very good man and as I said this I switched on the landing light and the bulb blew. I know it was Doug. I think he was agreeing with me and letting us know he is still around us. I’ve been reading things from other widows and they say the same thing about having to change out light bulbs all the time…It even happened when we were in Portland. There were a bunch of your Daddy’s friends and my friends in the dining room and we were all talking and there was some laughter and I think we were talking about your Dad and the bulbs in the ceiling fan blew. I know that was him telling us that he was there with us. I am starting to think that I should buy in bulk…

I am thankful for these moments. It may seem weird to some people but I know he is here with us when these things happen.

The other night I was having a hard time. You were asleep upstairs and I was laying on the sofa crying and really missing him. All the lights were out and my eyes were closed and all I wanted was to just see his face to know he was here. To have some kind of sign that he was still with us. For a few moments all I could see was a golden light and his face shimmering in the light. Since that moment, that night, I know that he is here. It brings some peace.

There are so many little things that you do that remind me of your Dad. The way you laugh and how your eyes light up when you smile remind me of him. You have that same look of love and happiness in your eyes. There is a look that you sometimes give me where you lower your head just a bit, squint your eyebrows together and give a sly smile – this is so totally your Dad.

Thanksgiving is this week. Your Dad loved having turkey and stuffing and everything that comes with a Thanksgiving meal. I feel a bit bad because I wasn’t planning on making anything…I’m rethinking this…you may have a good T-day dinner after all…however it may end up that we go out to eat it!

I love you so much and I know we will get through this. I am constantly thinking about what your Dad would do, or what he would say, or how he would handle a situation. I know we have to go at this together but he is constantly in my mind, telling me to try something a little differently or telling me that I am doing just fine. I wish you had more time with him. It breaks my heart that you didn’t. I hope that I can teach you as much as I possibly can about him. I hope that you also see what he has given us – love of music, love of reading, knowing how to be a part of the moment right here and now, knowing how to be a good listener and a compassionate person. I don’t know why he was taken so soon but I do know that he left so much for us to learn from and to strive to be.

I’m proud of you my little boy. You are such a love and joy.

Love always,

In this life and the next,

Your Mom

Two long…

It has been 8 weeks. Liam is 14 months. The pain will not go away and just seems to be getting worse.

The past couple of days have been hard. I feel so lonely. I spend my days trying to keep busy but I don’t have the energy to do this…so I just focus on Liam but then everything else just stops. I have cried more lately and especially today. It was so hard for some reason today. I keep thinking more and more about you and that you are not here with me and feel like the fog is lifting a little here and there. I don’t know if I want it to lift. I feel like I have no idea how I’m going to do this. I depended on you for so many things – emotional things – physical things. I don’t know how I will ever be complete again – if ever. It hurts so much that you are not here to see your son growing up every day. You were always the cool parent…I feel like I am going to miss so many things that you would like for him to know or do with him. It just all hurts so much.

I need to write Lido’s 14 month letter…I have to. I need for him to know that even though I feel like things have fallen completely apart and I’ll never find all the pieces that he is the most important thing in my life…and my one love.

A Move

So I have been here in Portland for a couple of days now and the movers are coming tomorrow to pack our things and haul it to our new home. It was pretty hard flying in the other day and I cried on the plane when I saw the airport Doug flew out of most of his time out here…then the plane had to take a turn and I could see the main airport that he flew out of as well. It was also hard because I still had a feeling that I was coming home to him and had the excited feeling of seeing him again waiting for me at the gate. I had to remind myself that he wouldn’t be there. That I wouldn’t be seeing him when I got home. I flew thru the terminal to pick up the rental car and drove to our place as fast as I could.

I was hoping that this trip would allow me to cry as much as possible and have some down time to just cry and be amongst our things. I’ve had a bit of that but as I type I am sitting amongst boxes and on our couch in the smallest space that is available and clean…

I went out to the crash site yesterday. It was the second time I had been out there but the first was with a lot of people and I felt that I couldn’t just be there with him. I wanted to be alone and not with anyone and have enough time to talk to him. This was the main thing that I wanted to do and felt that I needed to do. I just feel like his death was so traumatic for him and that he is there just hating the situation and isn’t at peace. I just wanted to be where he had his last moments and tell him that it was okay. That I need for him to be at peace in order for me to be at peace or at least on the road to peace. For some reason or another I do feel better about moving from here now. I don’t feel that I am leaving him here. I’m glad I went there yesterday. I needed that. He needed that. I want him to be at peace and I want him to know that Lido and I will be okay. I’m not sure how I’ll do it but I have to for his sake.

I am ready to move now. I am ready to be in the new place and to start this life that I have not chosen but rather has been forced upon me and my child. I still feel like I am in a fog. That it is not real. I sometimes feel like I am pushing so much to the back and down below and that maybe that isn’t good for me…but it is the only thing that I can do right now. It is hard to even get myself to remember our day to day life and to remember all of the good times we had…it is just still too much right now…I want to…but I can’t.

My heart is still breaking and I feel that I can’t breathe. I miss him so much. I miss our future and thinking about our future together. I feel like I have none other than my son.

6 Weeks

I laid in bed last night and realized that it has been 6 full weeks since Doug died.  I feel like the fog, the feeling of numbness is wearing off more than I would like for it to.  I’ve been keeping busy to a certain degree, finding a house, getting things set up here, being with Lido.  I am glad that I found a house so quickly because I really and truly feel like I could not do anything now if I had to. I’m good getting some things done during the day – then I feel completely sick to my stomach in the evening…it is as if I suppress any feeling of guilt for continuing on until I can lie in bed and miss him…and cry.

It isn’t getting easier. Not that I expect it to be easier right now. I’ve survived Halloween and dressing Lido up and taking him trick-or-treating. I survived an evening amongst his friends that night without completely losing it.  I have found that I can only handle that in very small doses…The entire next day was really tough.  It is still tough today.  I try and move forward and plan and keep our life going forward – even though I would really just like to hide away.

I am heading back to Portland this week to pack our things and I also close on the new house this week as well. It is hard to imagine being somewhere else even though we really wanted to be back here.  Sometimes I think that I should have just decided to stay in Portland. To not even try moving his things, our things. To be able to visit the airport, see the familiar helicopters flying over our place…to stay connected to what we have been living the past 3 years.  Sometimes I feel as if I’m leaving him.  That the life we knew there will just cease to exist…Sometimes I’m just afraid that I’m moving to fast.

I know I’m not. I’m very well aware of what I can handle and what I can’t. It’s just taking the time for myself and mourning the loss of our life together, mourning him that is the hardest.  I lay in bed thinking if I wish and pray hard enough all of this will be a dream…that I’m in a coma and just thinking that this is happening…that none of it is real. God how I wish it wasn’t real.

I’m a planner. For a planner…having to live second by second…it’s hard.  My chest tightens up and my stomach lurches every time I even think about any sort of future.  If I want to plan anything or think about the future I try and shut down everything remotely human in me and figure out things in a robotic fashion.  It is the only way I feel like I will survive.

I called the funeral home today to finalize some things with them and the man I had been working with to arrange everything for Doug told me that prior to cremating him they were able to get a fingerprint.  He said that they felt really bad for me that I was not able to see him one last time.  I’ve been crying ever since.  To think about how badly he was hurt for me not to see him, to think of what happened when they crashed. There have been so many little things that I don’t want to put together because it would paint the worst picture in my head of what they went through.  I think that is why I don’t dream anymore.