A little friendly competition

The girls and I decided to enter in a friendly tournament through our kempo karate association.  It was definitely a learning experience and we had a lot of fun. We all walked away with medals and good spirits. Can’t wait to do it again!

Life After Loss: Ready for Love?

Myth: We move on after the loss of a loved one.

Truth: We move forward. Moving on implies that the person that passed away is to be forgotten, left in the past, and has no bearing or influence on your life after his or her death. It is almost as if that person never mattered in your life. However, it is quite the contrary.

One of my fears, because of this myth, is that people may think that when I start date other men, that I should have moved on and no longer can grieve for Scott. However, having been through loss before, grief is a life-long journey, especially when it is someone you cared for deeply. The loss, at first, is intense and raw. Your world, shattered in those last few breaths, is irrevocably changed. Those first few steps in moving forward are nearly impossible to take. Gradually, with each passing day, your feet become lighter and the steps you take much easier to bear. The dark cloud looming overhead begins to dissipate and blue skies provide a ray of hope, a chance to see the good and beauty in life. Every once in a while a storm rages in. With each passing storm, we become more skilled, adept, and hardened to handle each new challenge that comes our way. Each person in their grief journey moves at a pace unique to his or her own experiences and personality. For some, the storms seem never ending. A torrent of rain, lightning, hail, even tornados, wreak havoc on their lives. They barely get by and often need support and help from others. For others, they breeze through it with seemingly little to no effort. Don’t let this fool you, though. While they handle grief much better than others, the pain is still there.

For me, I still feel the sting of pain from losing Scott. We had nearly 11 years together. Out of our relationship, came four wonderful children. I grew into the adult I’ve become with him by my side. The experiences, both good and bad, that we had together were unique to us and our relationship. Down to every argument, every gift of affection, and every silly moment, what we had was special. It is something I will never forget and something I will be grateful for having in my life. In his last year, I learned what kind of person I really am. In being a caregiver, I learned that my capacity to love and care for someone is immeasurable. I learned that I am, in fact, a very strong person in even the toughest of times. But I also learned that I am not meant to live this life with no one at my side. Scott saw this as I cried in his arms one day. He fully expected me to find someone. He genuinely wanted me to. He felt so awful and ashamed that he couldn’t live out a longer life to be there for me and the kids. Especially me. I think out of everyone he was leaving behind, he worried about me the most. He knew that I am a person who thrives on companionship, partnership, and love. He knew that I was never and will never be someone who can live her life out alone. And he once told me that he hoped I could find someone and anyone who would love me and his children would have his respect and blessing. It was a conversation no couple should ever have to go through, but we did. We had to.

While it may seem like not much time has since passed, it may as well have been a lifetime ago for me. My grieving heart, I feel, moves at a different pace than most. I was able to see this firsthand during group therapy. As I comforted one of my fellow grieving friends, I kept asking myself, “Why am I not like this?” “Should I be like this?” “Am I supposed to be a wreck, unable to move forward?” I watched the others in my group and realized that we all grieved differently. Some were more intense, depressed. Others quieter and introspective. Then there was me, finding purpose in comforting others, giving more of myself to others. I realized that while I do grieve, I also am moving forward. I’ve been making many positive changes in my life. Working out, doing races, karate with the kids, climbing a 14er, and so on. One of these changes include meeting other people and, yes, going out on dates. Is it too soon? Maybe. But maybe not. Do I dishonor my late husband by doing this? I’ve asked myself this many times and I was unsure at first, but I’ve concluded that my answer is this: no, I do not. I’d also like to argue that I am honoring him by doing this as well. He wanted this for me. He wanted me to be happy. He did not want me going through life alone. Furthermore, I know that if I allow myself to fall into a routine, I may have a hard time breaking that routine in the future to make room for socializing and dating. I would eventually be too comfortable in my ways.

Many people often say when you find the love of your life, your soul mate, that he or she completes you. I’d like to say that doesn’t describe what Scott meant to me, though. To say that he completed me would imply that I was not whole to begin with. Rather, I think he complemented me, in the respect that we were good for each other and made each other better. Semantics, I know. Where I was weak, he was strong. Where he was weak, I was strong. To me, that’s what made us work. When I lost Scott, I lost someone that brought the best out in me and even sometimes my worst. He was the one person I could truly be just me, genuinely me. All the masks were off when I was around him. He knew my dark side. He knew my crazy side. It is my hope that perhaps, one day, I can find someone who would do the same, but in his own unique way. It is my hope that I can love someone and be loved in return. I know that it won’t be the same and quite honestly, I wouldn’t want it to. But, what I do know is that I am ready to put myself out there, risk possible heartache once again, with hopes that someone would be willing to hold my fragile heart with care and love and understanding. Someone who would understand that he would share a part of my heart with Scott. Someone who isn’t there to fix me, because I am not broken, but rather to stand by my side and support me while I venture through this grief journey, knowing that I may have to pick up the pieces of my broken heart from time to time.

Mistakes happen

Sometimes I need reminders to help me realize that I am not infallible. Mistakes are bound to happen. But some mistakes come along and take us by surprise. Guilt and shame remind us that we are only human. We use these kinds of mistakes to teach us humility and forgiveness, for others and ourselves. Mistakes are one of life's hard lessons.
This morning I found out, through tears streaming down my youngest daughter's cheeks, that I made a mistake. A huge mistake. Late last year, Scott and I took the kids to Build A Bear. In each kid's bear, we put a small voice box with a special recording for each child. Daddy's voice. A gift for each kid to cherish and hold on to for as long as the device would live.
Well, this last weekend, I mistakenly washed Melayna's bear with her laundry. The voice box, located in her bear's hand, pathetically hissed static when the button was pressed. The sound of Daddy's voice was irrevocably replaced with unintelligible crackles. Melayna was hurt and I was devastated.
This was something I could not restore. It was irreplaceable. And I was responsible for this. I knew that I could not bring his original message back to life. But I could, however, try to rectify this situation. I needed to own up to the mistake I made. So I began to cry with my daughter, also crying, in my arms, and apologize for my terrible mistake.
As Melayna got ready for school, I came up with a plan. I have some video recordings Scott left on his phone for the kids. One was for Melayna. I took audio and put together a few phrases closely matching the original recording.'hi Melayna', 'hi baby girl', and 'I love you' - all in Scott's voice.
In tears, at the mall, I explained my situation to the employee at the store. Her first customer of the day was one hot mess. She quickly went to work removing the bear's innards and she empathetically listened to me talk about Scott and offered comfort when needed. I made the new recording on a new voice box. It is choppy. It definitely is not the original. But considering this was all I had, it would have to do. After the voice box was put into place and it was filled with new stuffing, I placed two hearts inside: one from Scott and one from me. I adorned her bear with a new outfit, hugged the associate, and went on my way.
This mistake really brought about so many different emotions within me. Most of my morning, I could hardly contain my emotion. I felt so awful. I know that Melayna would have likely moved on easily from this, but the guilt I felt, and still feel, would not go so easily. My baby girl was happy to have her 'fixed up' bear. She listened to Daddy's voice at least a dozen times tonight and she is now sleeping soundly with her bear lying in her arms. I know that I won't be able to ever bring back the original recording, but I'm happy that I could still give her the sound of his voice. This is one mistake I don't ever hope to make again.