What?

It’s been a crazy month. 

I’m very surprised at my attitude and where my head is at the moment. I’ve definitely been struggling. 

Thankfully, I can feel a shift. At the end of March, the court case I’ve had filed for over two years was dismissed due to lack of evidence stating the crash was caused by something other than pilot error. This hit me harder than I thought it would. I knew for quite some time that this would not go any further. There was always half of me, knowing that it would be hard to prove anything other than pilot error and the other half always wanted to find something else wrong. I struggled with certain people and wanted to be able to put blame on a part, not a person. More importantly, I wanted to make sure that I left nothing unturned. I have been the voice of my dead husband for over 3 years. 

Now, all of that is silenced. It was like another death. It will be another date on the calendar that I remember. 

Thoughts of doubt have been slowly creeping into my head…whether I did enough, fought enough with my attorney, grilled him enough, if I did enough at the very beginning, if, if, if…

Then the thoughts of what if…What if I insisted that he not fly that morning and instead stayed home, sleeping in with us? What if he got stuck in traffic and couldn’t make it to the airport? What if someone else would have taken that helicopter instead? What if, what if, what if…

This is new. I’ve never allowed myself these thoughts. I’m glad I haven’t because they can be tortuous. Sure, every once in a while they have crept in but have quickly gone away because my thoughts were on just missing him. Longing for him. 

In a way, I am glad that there has been this end to the case. It has been brutal. Reliving the entire experience at any given moment in order to review what we had and what we didn’t have. Other people involved and dealing with them and their issues they brought to the table. Dealing with my own issues and feelings and trying to keep them in check.

The medical examiners documents have been sitting on my desk for over 3 years. I read them for the last time the other day. Now, they are in a box, packed away. The details are still in my mind though, albeit, tucked away and only seen when I really think about it. 

It is a strange feeling to suddenly realize how much you have been carrying around. I had been wondering for weeks why the tears were so easy to flow…I thought that part was over. 

The end of this…hurts. 

I had a dream the other night and I can not remember anything about it. I know I slept really well and as I was waking, I could feel his arms wrapped around me, giving me one of his hugs. God, his hugs. They were the best hugs in the entire world. That day, I had really been struggling with all of these emotions and feeling as if I was never going to be able to make another decision in my entire life. Then, I made a MAJOR decision on April 1st (his birthday) and I wasn’t rethinking it – I was just thinking that it was strange that I hadn’t told many people about it at all. I hadn’t announced to the world with excitement and enthusiasm what I had planned…very different. I knew I wasn’t regretting it but instead I’ve just let it be…something that I don’t do very often. Its as if I just wanted to watch, almost from the sidelines, how it played out. How my emotions played out. I knew I was making this decision right in the middle of a bit of a breakdown and I, well, it really is hard to describe. It is almost like needing to be two people at once. Part of me needed to fall to pieces and hurt and cry. The other part, well, it needed to prepare the next road that would be travelled. 

Now, the part that is broken down, ugly, tired, hurt, sad, grieving, confused – well – it’s standing right next to the part that is strong, beautiful, radiant, happy and sure. 

For three and a half years, these two parts have never really been introduced. They’ve been in a limbo. Unsure of where to meet up. Not able to touch and shake hands for a myriad of reasons. 

Now, I see them there, standing side by side. The part that is strong, beautiful, radiant, happy and sure takes the hand of the part broken down, ugly, tired, hurt, sad, grieving and confused. There’s another part there as well. This part, well, this part has always been there, connecting the two. It’s a new part though. One that was started when Doug died. It is the part that will always be there connecting the two forever. It is bigger and brighter than the other parts because it is made up of everything I was before, everything I am after, everything that has touched my life, other people’s lives, Doug’s love and life and death, the universe – it is beyond recognition in words.

As the two parts take hands, this third part holds both of them and they all take one step forward into the next chapter. 

The broken down part cries, the strong part feels excitement. There is balance between that will always connect the two.

Welcome to my Chapter 2.

 

Grateful

My Darling,

I’m still a bit mad. My heart is still a little heavy and I do feel like I could break at any moment but intertwined within it all, I feel strength and I feel you around me.

As Lido has gotten older – and I do have to remind myself it has only been 3 years since your death – I have tried to start little traditions to celebrate your life and who you were. Frisbee golf on Thanksgiving and now, on your birthday, acts of kindness.

I decided to do this because really – I needed to get outside myself a bit. I didn’t want to go through the day wallowing in sadness and fear (which, by the way, I could so easily have done). The acts of kindness are not only selfless but selfish because I definitely benefited by spending the entire day giving to others.

I got to talk about you. I don’t get to do that often. Strangers asked for your name. They cried as I cried. I got some high fives and big toothy smiles. Lido asked even more questions about you and enjoyed being a part of it all. He liked it when someone asked about you.

Tonight, as we talked about the day, I told him that we needed to tell you happy birthday and to do that, we closed our eyes and imagined your face and that you were hugging us both and we say ‘happy birthday daddy, I love you’. I’m sure you heard his sweet little voice whisper that as he clenched his eyes closed and as I hugged him tight.

Happy Birthday my love.

In this life and the next.

Always,

Me

Happy Birthday

My Dearest,

This is the 4th birthday that you have missed. You would have been 38 today and this year, for god knows what reason, it seems to have hit me really hard. I feel I have made it through so many holidays and special days without you now, that it is usually a few days before that is the hardest but this one, well, this one has just sucked.

I think it all started when I was in Portland and had to turn around from my original destination due to a check engine light coming on. On the way back to the house, I saw the sign for the park we had Lido’s 1st birthday party and my 35th. The last place we spent time together as a family, the day before you died. I found myself turning off the highway and heading straight for the park and walked directly to the grove of trees, where we sat for a picnic and some pictures when Lido was maybe 6 months old.  I knew the exact spot where we had the blanket and as I walked to it, I just melted into the ground, laid on my back and looked up at the sky through the same tree branches as we did four years ago. Lido was looking for sticks and called out to me and when I sat up, he was crawling up the leaning tree where we had propped him up against to take pictures those four years ago. It was right then that the tears came and I found myself sobbing and shaking and our beautiful son walked over to me and just held me and hugged me.

It’s been a long time since that has happened. I find myself hiding more and more of my grief, mainly so that Lido doesn’t see me sad and also, because when I do start thinking about it, well, I feel overwhelmed and there is no one around me to pick up the pieces so, I keep it together because I can no longer pick up the pieces by myself. I feel so fragile. Even more fragile now than in the first few months after you died.

And honestly, I don’t really want to tell this to you on your birthday but I’m really pissed at you right now. I’m right in the midst of trying to make some major life decisions and you aren’t fucking here to talk to about any of them. It pisses me off and I’m mad, so very, very mad. I’m fucking tired of worrying about Lido, if I’m doing the right thing, have him in the right school, if I’m a good parent, if I’m teaching him the right things. I’m fucking mad about the fact that I have to figure out how soccer is played and go and buy shin guards for him and take him to his first practice next week by my fucking self. I’m mad at you babe. Mad you are not here. Mad you are not here to console me, to cheer me on.

I’m lost without you. You knew me better than I knew myself and right now, I could really use you by my side. I’ve never, ever felt this alone and this indecisive in my entire life. Never.

But, I can’t stay angry with you. Especially on your birthday. So, today, on your 38th birthday, I am going to make one major life decision. It’s a decision that I’ve been working through for a bit now and a decision needs to be made. All the ducks are in a row and all I have to do is commit and make the decision, which apparently I suck at for the first time in my life. However sucky I am at making decisions right now – a decision will be made.

And to get me out of this rut of misery and crying every single fucking day, I am going to forget about myself and bring a smile to someone else. 38 someone elses to be exact. 38 acts of kindness.

(Lido and I are also celebrating with some chocolate cake (your favorite) and a Guinness. He asked if he could have some Guinness too…)

Babe, I miss you more than words can say. I wish you were here to celebrate the highs and work through the lows with us. I wish you were here to watch your son at his first soccer practice. I wish we could celebrate your birthday with you.

It’s a 1st, it’s spring – I hope to see you throughout the day.

I love you. In this life and the next.

Always,

Me

 

 

 

 

The Web

I sat in a parking lot of a church Saturday night and cried.

I cried for a life cut short. I cried for his fiance and his family. I cried for myself. I cried for him. I cried for Doug.

But the one thing I cried most about, the one thing I couldn’t catch my breath because of, was this overwhelming feeling of being exactly where I needed to be…and being incredibly thankful for what has happened in my life. The tragedy, the friendships, the professions, the conversations, the beliefs, the arguments, the fleeting thoughts, the circumstances, the laughter, the love, the hate, the peace, the lessons…all of it.

I cried because as I was talking to the Mother of this pilot, she asked me “what does Doug say to you?”

I couldn’t answer it. I wanted to share with her something profound. Something that could possibly take part of her pain away. Something that could give her hope. Instead, I turned it onto her and asked her what her son says to her.

*************************************

As I sat alone crying, I became completely overwhelmed as it seemed like all of these life events started flashing before me…something that I had always imagined that happens in death. Instead, it was happening there, as I sat crying, in a car, in the dark.

I was overwhelmed because if it were not for one of these events happening, one of the lessons I needed to learn being taught, one of the people not being a part of my life when they needed to be – if it wasn’t for all of this – if it wasn’t for all of this…it’s overwhelming.

Doug was talking to me. He was letting me know that it was okay that there will not be answers for me. He was reminding me of all of the things that have led me to this moment. He was showing me, that through the events in my life and the events in his life, that this was our purpose. That each moment was unique in that it gave both of us opportunities to make an impact in other people’s lives where we could. That everything is truly connected…and dare I say it…that everything may indeed happen for a reason*.

I’ve never felt more thankful in my life than last night. I am thankful for every single thing that has ever happened in my life. I embrace all of it with open loving arms because if it wasn’t for all of it, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see so many beautiful things. Be a part of someone’s life in their darkest hour or bask in the light of their finest moment.

I was especially thankful for this Mom, asking me a question that pulled the veil from across my face.

******************************************************************************

*When death occurs, so many people say ‘everything happens for a reason’. I believed this for so long. Then I didn’t. Even though I say it today, I have struggled with believing this is indeed true since the day Doug died. Saying this today does not mean I embrace this thought fully. I say this today because I see the connections, the web of life. However, just taking this small step of believing this for today does not mean, DOES NOT MEAN, that it is ever the best thing to say to someone when they have just lost their world. Unless you know the reason – it’s best to keep this statement to yourself.

I didn’t say that

Thanksgiving

My Dearest,

Today I took your son to play his first round of disc golf. Man was he super excited. I told him about my idea to do this a couple of days ago and I took him out to get his own set of discs. He was pretty funny jumping around all excited in the store and at the same time pretty confused as to what I was even talking about. I was a little surprised that the excitement lasted for the next two days but it did and he was up early this morning ready to go.

I had thought it was supposed to rain and get pretty cold today and as I was laying in bed this morning telling him to go back to sleep, I heard the wind whipping through the trees and shaking the house a bit and was convinced it was freezing outside…wind like that could only mean freezing, rainy, dreary weather. However, I was not going to be deterred and after mentally making a list of layers of clothing to put on, I rolled out of bed. We were going to do this. After all, I thought, the whole flying a kite thing on special dates has really been epic fails on each attempt and I have to find something that we can do without an extra pair of hands needed….

After getting dressed and not overly obsessing about the layers until I knew for certain what kind of weather I was dealing with, I opened the closet that contains most of your coats, table top game stuff, and your disc golf bag. Opening the door brought a soft whisper of air that smelled like you. I grabbed one of your jackets to wear as well as the bag. I went through the coat pockets for the thousandth time because, well, apparently, I think that you have left something of importance in your pockets…then I started going through your bag. In the water bottle pocket I found a diaper (hello parent-hood) that had been left there after our last outing playing disc golf, the day before you died. Inside the bag were discs with your name and phone number written in your handwriting as well as the score sheet from our last outing at Champoeg Park.

The good thing about having a 4-year-old in the house is that you are not allowed to stand around long, so, I grabbed the bag and the jacket and headed downstairs to find one excited 4-year-old discs in hand. As he was putting his shoes on I was putting his name on his new discs, “just like my Dad’s”, he said.

I stepped outside to check what degree of cold, damp weather we would be enduring and I was almost knocked over by the 60+ degree wind that blew in my face. I turned around, looked at Lido and said let’s go – thanking you for keeping the warm weather around for this day.

My friend, Shelly joined us as I was not letting her get away with missing this awesome weather and your friend Jason and his son Ro met us there. I was so glad that he came out with us as I know the two of you played many holes of disc golf. After all, there was still one of his discs in your bag (which, by the way, I gave back to him).

Lido was awesome. The kid was having one of the greatest times of his life. He got into the groove and would run, run, run and then fling the frisbee…no matter where he was. Probably a good thing to because we covered a lot more ground in a shorter amount of time than we would have. We had to keep reminding both of the kids to not run in front of someone when they were throwing as we placed bets on who would be in the ER first and for what injury (a very steep hill and running full tilt down it came into play at the 5th hole).

On the 4th hole, Lido was a good five feet from the hole and made a perfect throw and the disc went right in. He had the biggest smile and did a small fist pump and said ‘yes’ followed by some happy giggles.

Ro did awesome as well. Man, he had some great throws. Just amazing and it was so much fun to see them together, with Lido just following him around no matter where his frisbee landed. He would retrieve his frisbee and then run to where Ro was and throw from there.

It was all so care-free.

Lido used his new discs for the most part then, he asked me “can I use my Dad’s”. He didn’t just use one but decided that two at once was best…pretty funny.

It was a great time and it just felt perfect. Seeing Lido’s face light up and that smile – well, it was just really perfect. Something that we can do just the two of us. Something that I shared with you that I can pass down to Lido. It’s the seemingly small things like this, that start to heal the heart.

Thank you for teaching me how to play.

I miss you so very much and I love you.

In this life and the next.

Me

ps. Your son is a great lefty! He started out using his right but I made him switch to his left and he threw a lot better…made me smile.

 

Four

My Dearest Lido,

Today you are 4. Every year it is hard to believe and every year it still comes. You are one of the most amazing people in my life and I hate to say it but I think you are officially out of the baby and toddler stage. Over the past year, you have grown so very much and have lost that baby chub including your little buddha belly…

For your birthday party this year, you definitely had a lot of input. Since you love dinosaurs, we had a dinosaur egg hunt and dinosaur hunt with all your little friends in their explorer pith hats and you guys even had binoculars! Everyone had a great time and you all rode bikes for hours on the driveway. Those that attempted to try and cross in front of any of you took their life into their own hands. It was an amazing party with some amazing friends and what was even more amazing was the fact that all of you kids spent HOURS getting along!

You got to stay up really late and as I was laying with you in bed, you looked at me with sleepy eyes and said “mom, I’m 4. I’m going to be 4 all day. Then next year I’ll be 5 then 6 then 7″…and you counted all the way to 20 and then told me that you would be all the numbers after that. You are really proud to be one year older.

You are about 42″ tall and weigh 36#. You love dinosaurs, Spiderman, Transformers and riding your balancing bike. You can count to 30, write your name (and have decided that you are spelling it with 2 m’s because Mom has 2 m’s), write Mom, know your address, the country and state you live in. You still snuggle with me and you still bury your head into the crook of my arm just like you would bury your head into your swing and also into my belly (we have 3D video of this). You have traveled across the ocean to visit London, Paris, Salzburg and Munich. You got to go to Christmas Eve Vespers at Westminster Abbey, ride a red double-decker bus, rode to the top of the Eiffel Tower, took the high-speed train through the chunnel from London to Paris, rode trains across Germany into Austria, saw castles, churches and even got to take a carriage ride through the gorgeous town of Salzburg. You have a few ‘besties’ at school and have had many play-dates at friends houses, the park as well as our house. You are completely brilliant at riding your bikes and just today, on your birthday, you got your first pedal bike. You loved your birthday party and having friends over last night and even came up to me to give me a wonderful hug and say ‘I love you Mom’ out of the blue during the party.

You really are amazing to me. You are so very sweet and loving and you remember EVERYTHING. Sometimes it is hard to keep up with you when you bring up something that happened over a year and a half ago…

This past year, it has been calm and I’m so very appreciative of this. We have been able to find our way along this path at a much easier pace. It is still very hard for the both of us and you are understanding the loss of your Dad more and more. I brought out his patches the other day and you just held them and then lifted them up to your cheek to give them a sort of nuzzle. You miss him. People say that you won’t remember, won’t understand but you do. You always have. You may not have exact memories of him but you remember smells, music, songs we sang to you, his beard tickling your cheeks. You have your tough days when you miss your Dad and are sad.

It’s always rough, this time of year. I take a big breath in and just hold it for as long as I can. I think you realize this as you give me a few extra hugs and kisses along the way. You are just like that. You are very much like your Dad in that way – knowing when someone just needs a little extra something, many times before they know they do. And your only 4. You are an old soul and very wise. I see it in your eyes and in your heart.

My darling boy, I always want you to know how very proud I am of you, how very much in love I am with you and how much you have given to me. You remind me to live in the present and to take as much in as I can. I wish so very much that things were different. I wish that you would know your Dad as I knew him. I would give everything to have him back. I know, though, that he is watching over you and that he was smiling down on you this morning as you took your first ride on your pedal bike.

Today, we leave for a trip. Just the two of us. This will probably be our last big trip for a while. There are many changes in store for us this next year. If things fall into place, we will be heading back to Portland so I can attend school. It’s an old story but one that inspired taking this direction. The story of your Dad figuring out what he really wanted to do and then going for it. I remember the conversation so well and I remember us working to get to that goal. As I was contemplating what it was that I really wanted to do it was him I could hear, reminding me of what I was good at, reminding me what I was drawn to. It was his voice I heard, telling me that I could do this. It was his voice I heard telling me that he would be there when I broke down into tears contemplating making this move and pursuing this without him beside me…not knowing if I could do this on my own. I haven’t felt him surround me and dive deep into my soul and my mind since the night he died when I could see his face and felt his hand on my forehead, warming me, telling me he was okay. All I think about is how hard he worked and studied for something he dreamed of doing, how he loved helping others pursue the same thing, supported them. I feel him surrounding me every day. I’ve longed for this feeling for quite some time, the feeling of him. I know now that he was truly letting me walk the path I needed to take, learn the things I needed to learn, come to terms with situations and people in order to get to this point. I was told by a Shaman, close to 2 years ago, that he was keeping his distance because he was afraid that the only thing I would do was sleep if he came to me in dreams…that I would not walk forward down the paths I needed to take. That I would not learn what I needed to learn. I yelled at that Shaman. Told him that it was fucking bullshit but somehow I knew what he said was true. It has brought me to this moment. And Lido, I have not made a decision for the two of us that has ever felt more right. The very moment that I decided to do this, I could see how interconnected everything has been over the past three years. I could see all of these paths light up, this web of interconnectedness light up. Everything has led me to this very moment. A moment that will effect both you and I in wonderful ways.

This does not give reason, though, to your Dad’s death. I know I would have gotten to this very same moment with him, in the flesh, beside me. I’m positive that he would say the same thing.

Lido, I hope that your Dad inspires you to pursue what you want to do in life. I hope that he inspires you to work hard for whatever it is that you wish to do, be it raising a family and providing for them to becoming the first man to travel to Mars. Everyone has different paths in life. Passions and dreams do not have to be grandiose to have power. You create the power in everything you do. The smallest action can have the most powerful effect. Remember that.

I love you my darling child. I am so very excited to see where this next year takes us and I am excited to be walking this path beside you and seeing where your path leads you. You really are amazing and I see so much of both your Dad and I as a part of you but more and more, I see so much that is just you.

I love you.

In this life and the next,

Your Momom