It Can't be the Same.....And So It Isn't.

There is one thought that I need to discuss with you and others out there.  It is the ongoing need to compare the death of a spouse to divorce.  I have to emphatically say that in most ways- it is not the same.  First I'd like to share with you the parallels that I see in hopes that you know that I am sympathetic about the plight of lost love.  I truly am.
When Steve first passed away there were those that struggled to find anything to say to me.  Through the fog I could sense their need to reach out, to connect, to find a common ground to pull me back from the abyss of grief.  So they would search their own lives and pluck small bits that we could communicate about.  More often than not this came through comparing the life that I had lost suddenly to the loss of their marriage.  I can now see the comparison of the hopes and dreams that we all set out with as we embark on marriage or a commitment to another.  I remember the nights spent whispering of the things that we would do, sharing the deepest secrets and desires that we shared for ourselves and in turn for each other.  I still hold those quiet moments quite dear to me.
In having children we all then turn our focus less upon the hopes and dreams of each other, though those are still in the ether around us, rather we fine tune our perspective upon our children and how to work together to accomplish their dreams; to create a better world for them that is without limits.  We scrimp for little league, and spend countless hours in doctor's offices, we become unified and strengthened through this common goal of lifting our children towards the stars and celebrating their milestones along the way.
This commonality makes it possible to smile, nod and take a deep breath when I am told how lucky I am that my husband died while we were still in love. What?! Come again... That at least I don't have to endure having to see him every day with someone else.  Knowing that he was faithful to me and that I will never have to deal with sharing my children with another household. Wow.
Let me be clear.  If you approach me on the street tomorrow and are gulping back tears because you find yourself being spread too thin because of the circumstances that life has thrown you into- I will wrap my arms around you and find you a clean Kleenex, because that is what sharing the human experience is about.  But please...PLEASE...remember in your own pain, that I am still wrapped in mine and wear it like a sweater, so please remember to tread lightly upon the life experience that I am still working through with no finish line in sight.
We are similar in the grief that we share for a life that can no longer be; for a love that is beyond our reach though still in our hearts and minds.  In all of that we are similar.  We are human and so we are the same.
That, however, is where the similarity ends.  While you may wish your spouse were no longer breathing, I ache each day and night and long for the time that mine still was.  While you tell me how hard it is for you to share your children, I can only think about the fact that they will have another parent to bounce ideas off of.  And while you think being single and able to make ALL of the decisions about my life on my own- I can only focus on your children playing with your ex-spouse and finding some sort of solace in the proximity.  I would not wish this on you, or on your life for anything in the world- so why do you wish it upon yourself?
There is a great chance that at some point in both of our lives we will find another someone to share our life with.  While we both shift focus between what is and what was, there is one distinct difference: I watched as the only man I have ever loved in this life's spirit drained from his eyes and left his mortal shell.  I sat helpless to save him, to breathe life back into his body, and to will him to live once more.  There will never be another word in this lifetime pass between us.  All the while I was throwing everything I was into willing him to live, begging him not to leave me (possibly in the same way you worked to save your world)- I could not get past my lips the "I love you," that was always said each night before bed but went unsaid that last night.  Instead, the words lay frozen in my heart, on my tongue and forever etched into every beat of my heart that his does not.
We both will have to work through our grief in our own way.  We both will figure out a way to move through the dark moments and stand tall in the face of great sorrow.  I will make you this simple promise: I will never tell you how lucky you are that your spouse is still alive, if you never tell me again how lucky I am to not have to go through what you're going through. Our perceptions are our own reality and as such these circumstances cannot be the same- and so they aren't.
Much love for the life that you are living and the person you want to be - Kami

The Year Mark, The High Points, The Struggles, and the Onward March.....

I was traveling from California to Arizona in a 15 passenger van with my sister, her four girls, my three boys and my mother-in-law.  It was a wonderful escape from the every day realities that are mine.  While we were in transit, my other sister sent pictures of the memorial tributes that were paid to Steve at his graveside.  There was such joy in remembering such a remarkable man.

Inside I had struggled more and more as the day loomed closer.  There was this fantastic build-up to the apex of emotion that I didn't have any idea what to do with it all. It seemed that all the nice, calm, level-headedness that comes with having to walk with grace through such a nightmare was about to tear free.  And then it did.  My ability to filter my thoughts and feelings fell away and I couldn't be trusted to be kind anymore.  It was as though the one year mark freed all the crazy that had been boiling inside for so long.

I wasn't focused on finding people to berate or be mean to, but my patience for the trivial issues in life was worn completely thin.  People venting over arguments their children had gotten into, ladies in the check-out line complaining at the length of their wait- all of the mundane, somewhat idiotic reasons to get bent out of shape over received an eye roll and a folding of my arms.  Didn't all of these people realize what a wonderful gift they had in being able to stand and complain?  They had been given the gift of one more day and this was how they were spending it.  I was appalled and completely over it all.

So I did what any widow would do- I shut down.  I'm still in the process of sliding.  I feel as though I've become such a burden on those closest to me.  I can't reciprocate in the way I would like to,  It's hard to go through your days feeling like you're either a service project or an exhibit in the freak-show.  Neither of which are good for your soul.

Would you like the know the secret that I learned on the year anniversary?

It came and it went; all by itself.  Say What?! Time didn't stop on this day any more than it did the day a year prior.  People still smiled, and cars still moved and the axis continued to rotate without my say-so.

So up by my bootstraps I've come.  I'm choosing to laugh more, complain less and am searching for purpose beyond myself.  Focusing outward instead of inward.

The year mark can be scary- but not half as scary of living a life less-extraordinary.  For choosing to live like that is no life at all. And the monster we create in our mind, based upon dates and the survival mentality, are just as easily slayed in our minds as well.

THE conversation......

A week or so ago I decided to sit down with the boys and see what they thought about, perhaps, their mother dating.  I wanted to have the conversation and get their thoughts prior to doing anything about it.  It's not that I was 100% ready at the time, and I'm not sure I'm 100% ready now- but then is anyone ever 100% ready? When I met Steve I would say I was about 85% ready and we ended up talking marriage on the second date.
When I spoke with the boys I just asked simply, "What are your thoughts about me going on a date?"
I wish I could clearly convey the looks on their faces.  Parker looked very thoughtful.  Klarke looked calm and Grant....well he looked ticked off.
Parker spoke first and said, "If it will make you happy Mom, then I think you should do it.  I support you." This warmed my heart.
Klarke chimed in, "Yep! We could have someone to watch football games with again."  This made me feel two things: sadness for the boy who is missing his dad so much, and nervous that he would expect that right away from any sort of dating situation.
Grant simply said, "No way! You can't.  I don't want anyone but Dad in our house."  This was expected.  Steve was his best friend.
I just let them all know that nothing was in the works.  My first priority is to my boys- always.  They come first.  This doesn't mean that I won't go, should the opportunity arise, but it does mean that I will be very, very careful about who meets the boys and when.
I guess what I'm saying with all of this is that the thought of moving forward is appealing to me.  I've stagnated for too long.  My heart aches and the desire to find a friend is there.  Anything more than that right now seems to overwhelming, but I would like a friend to at least laugh with.  No pressure.
That's where we are tonight. Much love, Kami

Learning to Live Again....

When I was in Utah this summer I ran into a wonderful woman who began the walk I'm currently walking nearly a year before I did.  She said something that really struck me.  She said that music spoke more to her now than it had ever before.  I couldn't agree more.
Just after Coach had passed away, I was brought to my knees with the gut wrenching grief of missing him.  I just wanted to know that he missed me, still loved me, still thought of me.  As I was kneeling upon my tile floor Jon Legend's song "All of Me" came on.  If you've never heard it before, it details the love between Jon and his wife and the love they have for each other; all their idiosyncrasies, joys and all that goes into the middle of a love that deep that it inspires music to be written.
It was an answer to prayers.
Lately the music has been quiet.  Songs come and go on the radio.  I hear music in church and it doesn't reach me.  I feel as though I may be dying inside.  The numbness has worn off and I typically feel everything so raw- not lately though.  I'm not sure why.
I am lonely.
I'm sure this will pass as well. I hope this will pass as well.
There is such joy, safety, happiness, peace in sharing your life and being half of a whole.
This feeling won't last forever.  I know that it won't, and I can recognize that it is real in this moment.
I opened my arms wide open, chose life, and now I get to live with that choice.  I took his ring off from around my neck- it was choking me, not literally.  I've worn it since it was handed to me by the medical examiner in the emergency room.  It was the first symbol that meant he wasn't coming home ever again and the weight of it all was making it increasingly harder to stand, to choose life, to live.  I tried taking my wedding ring off, because now when I fill out forms it requires that I check the 'widow' or 'single' box, because I can no longer claim that I am married in this life, though I know I am in the life to come.

I put the ring back on.  It is a symbol of a promise that I have made and will continue to keep.  It is a strength to me, and so I waiver between needing the strength from a small symbol of eternity, and wanting so desperately to be strong enough to stand without it.
In the words of Garth Brooks from his song "Learning to Live Again" - "This learning to live again, is killing me." Again, not literally, but man this process is slow, arduous, painful, and with small moments of joy.  Thank you for coming along on this journey with me.
All my love,
Kami

The Wheel We Run On

I shared this on Facebook last week, and thought I should post it here as well-
The house is quiet. Well it would be quiet if Normandy the Hamster would quit running on his hamster wheel. I swear, just when it's time to lay my head down and get some sleep, that little guy thinks it's time to run a marathon and off he goes! He probably covers the equivalent of 26.2 miles every night on his run....well to nowhere. How often do we do this? Climb onto our wheels and then just go....without a destination in mind, without a purpose, except to be moving? I did that. In the months following Steve's death, I got on my hamster wheel and just ran. I was trying to outrun the pain, the loss, the missing, the life that I had built together with my best friend. Guess what...it didn't work. It was only when I stopped running, opened my arms wide and fell into all that I'd been outrunning that the healing finally began. It sounds so cliche' and perhaps it is-just a bit. But for all of those who have ever been faced with seemingly insurmountable odds- be brave. Perhaps it won't be today, or even tomorrow, but at some point you will need to get off the wheel, take a deep breath, and decide to live by embracing what is necessary to live: LIFE. Happy Tuesday my friends.

The Football Season

It's here.

The time of year that I wait for all year long, but this year it's coming with a bit of anxiety and slight dread.  My coach won't be on the sideline.  He'll be watching, I'm sure of that- but there won't be any kisses after the game: win or lose.  There won't be moments where he'll turn and look for me in the stands.  There won't be the excitement of watching game film and talking about his thoughts on what the guys are doing, and who will stand out.  There just won't be.......

The annual fundraiser for his team happened on Saturday night.  It was amazing.  There aren't words to tell you how great it was to see my boys running around, laughing, getting wet, enjoying themselves and being able to hug all the guys from the team again.  There was such a great feeling among the family and community that came out to support the Gophers, as well as recognize all the hard work put in by the Booster Club.  It really is a class act in Florence.

I asked my mother-in-law if she would walk out onto the football field with me.  I hadn't set foot on the field since the homecoming game last year, where our team won against all odds- for Steve.  The lights had come on, and the sun was sinking behind the mountains.  The air had cooled and the stars slowly beginning to twinkle when my feet hit the grass once more.  I had dragged my feet slightly, making my way across the track, and then took a deep breath and placed my feet on the turf once ruled by my love.

It's different. I hate it.

I feel like Steve and I worked so hard to finally find the place where he belonged, where we could raise our kids; where we belonged.  Florence had become that place for us.  It was not the same Saturday night.  It's not terrible, but so much has changed.  It's not completely my team anymore.  While the boys are Steve's boys and will be forever, what tied us together has changed.  They are still the wonderful players that I have grown to know and love and pray for nightly, but it's almost like the color has been sucked from the grass, and the lights and the noises that once thrilled me- have left me feeling low.

I want my life back.  All of it.

It is selfish and slightly crazy to desire that which can never be and yet I do.  Oftentimes it is late at night when I struggle against what is; and I know that there will be peace some day.  Just not today- and that's okay.

I'm not sure of my place in this world right now.  There is no Steve on the couch, with his laptop on his lap multi-tasking as he worked up schemes and watched Sunday night football.  His hands in constant motion drawing plays, and laughing at the boys.  What am I supposed to do with this?  How am I supposed to let go of 14 years of football, life, love?  Perhaps that's the point.

I can't. Not yet.

This is my game.  It was before I met Steve and before those countless nights as he patiently walked me through the positions of the defense and the offense, then explained to me quietly what an 'I' formation or a 4-3 defense looked like.  I know where the B gap is located, and depending upon the play, who needs to shoot it.  I have a weakness for the defensive line and the offensive line and the thankless job those linemen have.  I am a coach's wife without a coach.  I am half of a whole, and I'm struggling with that.
So- when you see those Friday night lights, and hear the crack of helmets and the whistles blowing, please take a second to pray for my family as we come upon the anniversary of a moment forever marked by the space it has created in an otherwise full life.  Hug your kids, love your spouse and know that there will be a time for overcoming- it's just not yet.

Much love,
Kami

Tricky

This is my new catch-phrase.  It is an encompassing for those emotions that I am conflicted about and not really sure how to express the complexity that I'm feeling inside.

A few nights ago, I posted on Facebook about my youngest son crying himself to sleep over the ache that he feels for his dad.  There are not enough words in the human dictionary to describe the feeling of helplessness, and sorrow and general lack of control.  It was very tricky.  The emotional toll of it left me flashing back to the morning that Steve passed away.  The utter sense of betrayal felt when all that I had ever wanted in my life was not fulfilled- Steve was taken and there was not a thing I could do to stop it.  There is such a profound guilt at being the one here, that I can't even begin to unravel.  These same feelings came flooding back as I wiped tear after tear off of Grant's face and promised him the moon just to help him rest.

This is a window into the world we live.  It is not all drama and sorrow- there are actually moments of joy and triumph.  Parker is standing a bit taller these days as he won an election that he was hesitant to finish earlier last month.  The lack of confidence when the process started to where we are today- it boggles the mind.  He is facing this new found happiness with all the humility a 12 year old can muster and I am thrilled to see the change in his demeanor as he readily sees that nearly all things are possible with a believing heart.

Klarke is now signed up for baseball and has a desire to practice his catching with me.  I find myself bubbling with excitement over the fact that he asked me to practice with him: not his friends, not his brothers....me.  Wow.  Now if I could only cram 2 more hours in the day and eradicate all the mosquitoes we'd be looking great!!

Grant told me the other day that he "wants to be more kind so that he can be loved like dad was."  What 6 year old talks like this?  He is becoming more gentle and compassionate as the days go by and his heart has grown 5 times larger in the past year.  He is acutely aware of my feelings and like his older brothers seeks to protect me from the reality that is ours.  He has wiped my tears from time to time.

On any given night you can find me curled up in my closet, gazing at the clothes that are still on the hangers, touching softly the shoes that once made tread sounds across our tile floors- wishing for something that will never be again in this lifetime.  I'm not sure that it's possible to love as deeply as I do Steve- ever again.  I'm not trying to be dramatic.  It is what my heart has determined to be true as I think about sharing my life with anyone else but him and our boys.  This leads me to my last thought:

I would like to someday meet someone who has the answer to the ache that I feel.  But this is tricky.  How many princesses do you know that met two princes in one lifetime?  When I was younger it was easier to risk my heart, because it wasn't wrapped around three wonderful boys who are my everything, and there was no ache for a best friend that will not come home again in this lifetime.  How do we cross those hurdles, when I can't even bear to walk up to them?  My sources tell me that this means I am not ready to put myself out there, but when I have a son that asks, "Mom, do you think we should find a Stepdad?" I know that it's not just me that feels the missing and has no idea what to do with it.

For now, I suppose we shall let it be tricky.  With time in the day spent being a mother, a teacher, a student, and a crazy lady in the words of Sugar Brown, "Ain't nobody got time for dat!" anyhow.  I want to end this on a positive note: I am one of the luckiest ladies alive.  I have three fellas who wrap their arms around me each day, give me a big kiss on the cheek and whisper that they believe in me- as I believe in them.  I have known and still know the unconditional love of a good man.  I am embraced by family and friendships that uplift and sustain- and I know in whom I trust.  Believe me- things have been worse and the day is beginning to dawn where the happiness outweighs the sadness.  We are well and hope that this finds you searching for the good in your life- so that you may be a strength to others.

All my love,
Kami

It Will Get Better

This morning I had a mental breakdown.  I did.  I'm not ashamed.  My boys were being a bit rowdy and acting in a way that I felt like I didn't even know them.  All I kept thinking was, "If Steve were here he would know what to do." Or at least I would have a tag team partner with which to tame the crazy.  It never helps that these situations occur when I haven't slept well.  Sleeping has always been a bit of a monster for me. One that is not quite tamed, but it is getting better.

Truth be told, they were just being boys.  Most of the time I adore their craziness, and am eager to take part in the fun and laughter, but today it was just too much.  Now for those of you who have been raising your kiddos on your own for a long time- I have no right to complain, I realize this.  To have my best friend leave the building, have to start work, attempt to go to school, raise three boys, and find some sort of mental stability- well sometimes I think I'm in some big dramatic made for TV episode, only there are no commercial breaks.

So I ran away.  I told my Mom I was leaving, got into the car, and left.  I ended up driving to the cemetery and parking across from Steve's marker.  I walked over to it and plopped myself down and just sobbed. Typically I do not run.  I let the crazy pass and then I deal with it all.  This time, I had reached a point where destruction was imminent and I knew my kids were in safe hands- so I left before I damaged the relationship I have with my boys.  There was such a gut wrenching pull of missing, that I couldn't do anything else but cry- and breath.  Then a lady came up to me and asked if I'd seen her dog.  If this was a TV drama, that would not have happened.  I hiccuped that I had not seen her dog and she went on her merry way.  Then the tears slipped back down my cheeks.  Just when I was about to lose myself to the grief again, a couple of ladies in spandex walked by.  They were chatting about some lady named "Donna" who had two girls.  One was adorable, the other quite a pill and what was Donna going to do about the younger one?

I stared incredulously wondering how they could be gossiping at a time like this?  Didn't they know I was in the middle of a breakdown? For the love ladies!!

Looking for some semblance of sanity I looked across the expanse of green and granite and this is what I saw:

 After I spied this gentleman, he got up.  He picked up the metal vase connected to the marker he was visiting and brought it toward me.  As he got closer I dropped my gaze and put my head in my hands.  Then we did something unexpected and tapped his toe on my name.  He then asked, "Is this you?"  My first thought was "Seriously? Can't a girl get a break?" But I replied that it was, and then he tapped Stephen's name and asked who that was? I answered that it was my husband.  He then patted my head and started walking saying simply, "You are young.  It will get better."  He then filled the vase with water a bit away and walked back to where he had started. I felt a bit like a stalker as I watched him pull a cellophane wrapped bunch of flowers from his chair, sit down, taking the scissors from the cup holder on the chair, he trimmed the stems, placed them in the vase and arranged them to his liking.  He then wadded up the cellophane in his hand, put the scissors back in the holder, and sat back in his chair- just sitting.

It made me wonder how long he had been doing that.  How often had he come to this place, filled the vase, trimmed the flowers and just sat?  Based upon those thoughts I really had to wonder if it really does ever get better?

I am just me.  I suppose it will get better.  It has to, right?  My reasonable side understands this, but that side isn't always in charge.  Oftentimes my heart wins out and I end up a crying, sad little mess.

So has been tricky.  What I realized in this experience with the lady and her dog, and the gossip girls walking by, as well as the man with the vase- they are still living.  Life is still moving and  I am still here.  I'm still in love with breathing in and out.  I still enjoy the wind in the trees and the sun on my face.  I just wish I had Steve to share it all with.  So on we go: living, breathing, experiencing, and finding a way to handle all that this life throws at us.

All my love,
Kami

Biggie and the North Star

Over the past weekend we had the opportunity to go camping with family.  It was a whirlwind of ATVs, campfires and delicious food.  On the last night of our camp out the boys and I sat beneath a beautiful, starry night seeking out old constellations and attempting to pick out new ones.

We were tucked quietly into camping chairs, with our heads tilted back and a light breeze blowing when one of my lovely nieces walked over to me and asked where the star was that Jesus lived on.  She climbed up onto my lap and tilted her head against my shoulder, thumb in her mouth, little fingers working a strand of hair.  Her innocence and faith was remarkable.

I explained to her that I wasn't sure which star it was that Jesus lived on, but that I'm sure that He was there and was aware that we were there too.  She then asked me another very insightful question for one so young- she is only 4.

"Which star is Biggie's?"  Such a simple question, but her eyes looked into mine in the darkness and her brow furrowed because she really wanted to know.  I told her that her uncle, "Biggie" didn't have a star yet, but that we should definitely pick one out for him that night.

The boys, my niece and I scanned the night sky looking for the best possible star to name for Steve and to serve as a reminder that he, too, was always near and never far away.  After a short discussion we settled on Polaris.  It is the given name for the North star.  I spoke with the kids about how the North star always stands straight and true in the direction for which it is named, much like their dad and uncle.  No one ever doubted where Steve stood.  He knew what was right, he knew what needed to be done, he never wavered- he has always been our constant.

That night Polaris became Biggie's Star.  So, when you look up into the night sky and see the star just right of the Big Dipper, bright and clear- standing constant in its direction I hope you think of Steve.  I know he's guiding us throughout this journey.  We are still loved by a wonderful man.  We are still inspired and strengthened by the path he walked.  We walk the same path in the faith that one day we will all stand together again- constant and true to one another.

Much love,
Kami

What's in a Name...?

The title of this blog was a tricky one to come up with.  When an obituary is written it is customary to list the people in their life who are still here.  When Stephen passed away, I was listed as a survivor- with his children, parents, brothers, and their wives.  I think the list should have included anyone he came in contact with because if you knew him, you were his friend and after you'd left him: you were never the same. Unfortunately obituaries are costly and in order to list everyone we would have had to be millionaires, which we are not.
This blog is primarily for the purpose of expressing the thought processes that I've been having in working through the hardest moment in life that I think anyone has to come through- the death of someone they love. In talking with a lot of people, I don't think it matters whether you've lost a child, a parent, a spouse, a friend- the hole that is left in their leaving is the hardest part.  It is the missing that is mind-numbing at times.

A person that I'm meeting with has asked me to write about the day that Steve passed away.  I've tried at least a dozen times to write it out, but I don't think I'm quite ready yet.  It keeps getting stuck in my fingers, in my mind, and the scream that never came out that day is also caught there.  All sorts of things, ideas; just stuck.
This will stand as a record as to how we've managed to work through that day, month, this year.  I don't think it will be pretty, but it will be honest.  Even as I'm writing this my first instinct is to never publish it or make it public, because there are so many out there that would choose not to share this type of sorrow or pain or even the process through it all.  I've done this once before with my family's journey through cervical cancer and how we survived that.  I'm only still here because of the love of a good man and what he saw in me and helped me to see in myself.  So to those that are mortified that I'm opening this up- I'll apologize once.  Please don't read this if it makes you angry, because I think it will actually help me to be free. I'm sorry if that hurts you in the process.
To my beautiful boys, hopefully this will someday give you insight into what I was thinking during those times when I just couldn't bring myself to tell you, when you'd ask me.  Please know that I love you- more than life itself and I am so proud of you in every capacity that you are.
If you've read it through to this point- thank you.  If you're waiting for me to get on with it, I promise that I will but I just wanted anyone and everyone to know what was in a name.....more specifically what is in the name of the blog.
I am surviving McKane and someday I hope to do more than just survive.

All my love,
Kami