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