Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Four Months, Four Years

Four months ago, I said goodbye to my husband. For nearly a year, he dealt with disability from the stroke he had during surgery and the treatments associated with cancer. His 35 years of living cut short, way too soon, I believe. It seems to me that time has passed very quickly. So much has happened in four short months. The kids are finished with school. Tristan and Melayna continue to do well in karate. We've been to Denver Comic Con, a Lindsey Stirling concert, hiking, Itz with Grandpa and Grandma, and so much more. I have remained ever so busy with kickboxing, Zumba, gym workouts, and more. Life is moving on without him. We are adjusting to the change. And that's how its going to be. Adjustments and moving on. It hurts, though. Last week, I had a day where I was in complete despair. I lost count of how many times I broke down and cried. I even cried on the treadmill during my lunch break. Fortunately, I had a few friends at work to help me through my day. I have my good days and my bad days. For the most part, the good ones outweigh the bad ones and this is definitely a good thing. On my bad days, I sometimes feel like giving up, where I would want to crawl in my covers and ignore the day away. My heart is heavy and hurts with a pain that at times seems so unbearable.

Today, however, not only marks four months since his passing, but four years since we officially married. It is our anniversary today. Last year, he plotted with a friend and had her surprise me at work with 10 roses (one for each year we had been together) and a ribbon with each year we've been married. He also had her playing "My Best Friend" by Tim McGraw as I came to my desk. (http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=9aGkwbnWaIo).
Despite his limitations, he still managed to make sure our anniversary was special and memorable. I'm sure something he wanted to make sure he did as he wasn't the most romantic person in previous years. It was a very sweet and sincere gesture. Something I truly appreciated.

Little did I know that it would be the last anniversary he and I would celebrate together. I am jealous of couples who have been together for so many years. Decades of companionship and love. Something I fear I won't ever get to experience again. I am hopeful, but I still worry. Will I be in my seventies and all alone? Or will someone steal the broken pieces of my heart and slowly help me put them back together? I digress.

My mind is an intricate web of various thoughts and memories, spun in a chaotic pattern of worries, what-ifs, should of's, and could of's. I dwell on the past, as well as the future. Sometimes I think that I should have pushed Scott to fight harder and I feel guilty for not having done so. Then I realize his prognosis was grim to begin with and no matter how much he fought, he was doomed to succumb to the cancer. I wonder if the choices I have made so far are the right ones. Am I doing right by honoring his memory? Am I providing the kids with the best I can? Am I being selfish in my personal relationships? How am I going to juggle work life, family life, social life, etc.? Can I do it all, especially by myself?It is painfully scary to think that the raising of my children now fall squarely on my shoulders.

So many things in my mind. Always racing. Constantly thinking, contemplating. I suffer at night with sleepless nights. I suffer during the day from exhaustion and my tendency to be so easily distracted. However, most days I put on a smile and hope that the pain can be masked by my dimples and ear-to-ear grin. I think only those who know me well can see through my facade.


What keeps me going? Well, first off, knowing that I need to be there for my kids is my primary motivation to put one foot in front of the other. They need me. They need stability, predictability. They need me to be their mother.

Second, my desire to find happiness and fulfillment in life is a secondary motivation. I am only 32 years old. If I am one of the lucky ones, I have at least another 40 years to live life. I plan to grow old and see my children get married and start families of their own. If I am really lucky, I'll even get to see my great grandchildren. That's my hope. Quite frankly, I hope that it will be by someone's side. This means a lifestyle change is necessary. I need to become a healthier person if I am to ensure a longer life to see my children grow up and perhaps their children also grow up.



How do I cope?
I cry.
I write.
I think.
I rely on friends.
I distract myself.
My biggest coping mechanism, however, is exercise.
If I am stressed, I run or walk. If I am frustrated, I punch and kick harder in kickboxing. If I am sad, I shake my booty with all I got in Zumba. And soon, I will pedal a bike and shed my tears.

Each pound of fat I shed represents the stress and frustration I have been feeling. It represents the pain and sorrow I feel.

Each new muscle I find, sore and tender from the previous day's workout, represents the hope and determination I have to better myself and be the example my children need.



Some days I really don't know how I do it. But I do. I guess that's what's important. I guess that is what matters. Right? As long as I truly do not give up, then I can get through all this.



Happy Anniversary, Scott Hooper
I wish you were here to celebrate it with me.
I miss you so much. 
I am thankful for our friends and family who have helped me through these past four months; otherwise, I don't think I'd cope this well without them.
You left us way too soon and you are missed by so many.

Love,
Mary





Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Single parenthood

“As a single mother, breaking down is one of the hardest things because there's no one to help pick you back up again”

I read this in an article and it could be more true or applicable to my own life. I have sometimes said that I have been a single parent since Scott was originally diagnosed with brain cancer. He was in the hospital for a month and a half. All of us had to make adjustments to our lives and schedules. When he came home, he could help somewhat with parenting, but not to the extent he was able to before his surgery. His disability meant that we took care of him and helped to provide for his needs. There was a point when he became more mobile and was able to help out in small ways, but ultimately, I was the chauffeur, the caretaker, the errand runner, the cook, the cleaner, the organizer, etc. The one thing, though, that I didn’t experience while Scott was alive, at least for the most part, was the unending loneliness and dealing with breakdowns alone. For the most part, once Scott was home, I could breakdown and he would let me cry on his chest. Often, he would cry with me, knowing that the source of my pain and sorrow was due to the circumstances surrounding him. I had moments, though, where I would wait until he was sleeping, or I was alone, such as in the car, to breakdown. To cry out my pain. Sometimes, I preferred it that way. Others would only see me as strong and able to endure the hand we had been dealt. However, now that Scott is no longer alive, I hate it. Every time I am sad and I become overwhelmed with emotion, I have to turn myself around. I have to convince myself that everything will be okay.

As our 4th anniversary approaches, four months after he passed away, I find myself losing control. For the last three months, I've kept it all in check. My grief only manifested in brief, sporadic spurts. Manageable, it was. However, last week, Tristan was texting me (I gave him Scott’s phone). He messaged me: I miss daddy. The text was preceded by a string of sad, crying emoticons and a few angry emoticons. My baby is hurting. He only brings it up every now and then. But it definitely tugs at my heartstrings. Wednesday, last week, I noticed that Melayna was very clingy with a male friend. She loves this man. He later told me that she said to him that she wished he could be her daddy. She apparently said the same thing to another male friend. She wants my dad, her grandpa, to carry her; she's very cuddly with him. She’s craving attention from male figures in her life to compensate for her daddy no longer being here. Again, another thing that has me in this constant emotional upheaval. Quick to breakdown, tears welling up in my eyes, and uncontrollable sadness. Another thing that happened recently was while I was babysitting the children Scott used to babysit. These two kids were a big part of our lives for years. I love them so much and miss having them around. Their father and I have been hanging out quite a bit lately. Scott and him were really good friends and I want to say that he is now one of my best friends. When he needed help with watching his kids this weekend, I told him, I’d be happy to. As I was tucking in one of the kids the other night, he said to me that he missed Scott. He told me that twice that night. My children aren’t the only one hurting. My heart hurts so much for all of them and I’m not sure how much my heart can handle.

Breaking down. It just keeps happening. I try to find happiness, but it eludes me. For the first time, exercise wasn’t the drug I needed it to be. I cried on my drive home from Zumba last night. Today, I cried while jogging on the treadmill. I cried before work. After work. During work. My emotions are spiraling out of control and I don't like it one bit. I hate it, in fact. I normally can keep myself under control. Keep my emotions in check. I was able to talk about Scott and his passing without breaking down. Now, not so much. 

I know that eventually I will be okay. I know that tomorrow is another day. But for now, I am sad. For now, I feel hopeless and helpless. For now, my breaking point has been reached and I am going to cry. And the pieces will be mine to put together. No one else can do that. And the person that could, is now no longer here.




Monday, May 25, 2015

Denver Comic Con

Yesterday, we went to Denver Comic Con. A bucket list item of Scott's. I didn't get to go for the whole weekend, but I am glad I didn't. I had six kids in tow and it was a chore to watch them all and keep track of them. I did have help from friends, which I am grateful for. We got to see a lot of cool, geeky things and I got a few autographs. Overall, it was a fun experience. I think I want to try going without kids, though, next year. I'd love to sit in on some of the panels and slow down to enjoy the convention.






Sunday, May 10, 2015

Spartan Race...

So, yesterday was the Spartan Race. I started the race, but didn't finish. The reasons for which, were beyond my control. 

Colorado has fairly unpredictable weather. As the afternoon approaches the chances for thunderstorms increase. Well, our wave was in the afternoon. We were initially delayed from started due to thunderstorms. Once those seemed to clear, we were off. It was apparent, though, that I was not trained to for the obstacles I was about to face. I needed help from my teammates. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one needing assistance. I will definitely need to up my training to get myself ready for one I'll be doing next year.

Anyway, we got a little over a mile in when the lightning returned. We were told no obstacles with water and metal. We bypassed a couple obstacles to then face rain and hail. At which point, we were told to go back. So, we ran back...in the hail and rain. We were given medals and shirts despite not finishing. In hindsight, it may have been a good thing. I may not have been able to get through the entire race. But this gives me something to look forward to. I plan to train and be ready for it next year. I hope to be able to do all the obstacles without assistance...rope climbing, wall climbs, etc. I want to be able to do it all! I got this!



Wednesday, April 8, 2015

B Strong Ride!!

I've finally registered! Check out my site for what I'm doing, why I'm doing it, and how you can help!
https://fundraising.active.com/fundraiser/MaryHooper



To get me through the race, I got myself this pretty thing! A new road bike just for me.
I will be riding 24 miles in honor of Scott. Please support me if you can!

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Moving on

I often get asked by friends how am I doing and how are the kids doing. They are concerned about my well-being. They are concerned about how I am emotionally. How I am coping with losing Scott. I think they are somewhat surprised to hear that I am doing just fine. And truthfully, I am doing just fine and part of me feels somewhat guilty for feeling ‘just fine’.
A month and a half has passed since Scott died. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him. But am I so broken hearted that life stops and I can’t go on? No, of course not. And that’s not what Scott would have wanted me to do. Be depressed, unproductive, and not in the present for our children or in my life.
I’ve been told that everyone copes with loss in many different ways. Some handle loss much better than others. I believe I fall into that category. But in my defense, I have been grieving for over a year. Our cancer journey began February 18th, 2014. It was during that time, that I had to cope with the news that my husband had cancer. I refused to look up Glioblastoma right away. I didn’t want to know the truth. Not until I was ready. When Scott had surgery and was then faced with disability, I began grieving in a different way. I grieved over losing what my husband used to be. A strong, independent, protector to a broken, dependent, and depressed man. Scott had a hard time coping with his disability. At first he was in denial. As the reality of it sank in and the difficulty he had with overcoming his disability proved to be a much harder task than he had anticipated; he became depressed. He hated himself and what he had become. Furthermore, as we learned about the extent of his cancer and what life expectancy he might have, he really became depressed about missing out on the children growing up and growing old with me. Initially, I grieved over what Scott once was. Tall, strong, capable. I missed it so much. I hoped and wished that Scott would regain mobility on his left side fully, so we could resume our ‘normal’ lives. It took me a long time to finally accept that Scott wasn’t going to regain all of his mobility and that he was a changed man due to it and his cancer diagnosis. Once I came to accept our new ‘norm’, I finally could let the old Scott go. This newer version of him, though, was still great. Despite feeling defeated at times, he still managed to rock out physical therapy and start walking with the use of a walker and ankle-foot orthotic device. He still found joy in life – not all the time, but most of it. And, of course, I still loved him.
When we found out about the metastasis to his spine and brain stem and learned that his life expectancy had been significantly shortened, the grieving process for losing him completely went into overdrive. Up to this point, I knew that he had a terminal cancer. I knew that the average life expectancy was 15 months, but I also knew that some people live longer. I held on to that hope. His scan in September came back good. No new growth they said. In October, the spinal MRI was a game changer. At that point, I had to finally accept that he was going to fall short of the 15 month average. We’d have to settle for about a year. It was depressing. I remember we went for a walk that night we found out. I pushed him in his wheelchair. The evening air was cool and crisp. We cried. We mourned for his life.
Fortunately, Scott didn’t suffer too long. He entered hospice care January 21st and died February 3rd. He deteriorated fast. But that meant he didn’t feel much pain and discomfort. We had him on round the clock morphine and other medications to ease the swelling and pain. And while I was deeply saddened to see him go, I was glad he was no longer suffering.
In short, I’ve mourned my husband in two different ways and both over a long period of time. We’ve had the chance to talk about my future and what he hoped for me. He wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to live life for him. He wanted me to move on. He did not want me to dwell on the past. He did not want me to be depressed and completely heartbroken. I appreciate that he expressed these feelings and thoughts with me. That is what gives me hope. That is what makes me feel better about moving forward in life.
I will always remember him. I will always love him. He will forever be a part of me.
I plan to honor him by continuing his bucket list and finishing as much as I can. I plan to honor him by doing the Spartan Race in his honor (we have a team called Hooperpalooza) and by signing up for the B Strong Ride in Boulder, Colorado, which benefits cancer patients at the local hospital. I plan to honor Scott, by continuing to run Star Trek: Attack Wing tournaments at a local game store. I plan to honor him by teaching our children to be geeks just like him and me. I plan to honor him by raising our children in a way that would have made him proud. I plan to honor him by eventually moving on and opening my heart to another person, allowing them to care for me and love me like he would have done. I plan to honor him by reminding my children what an amazing husband, father, and man he was.
Life has been keeping me busy and I’ve been challenging myself in so many ways. I recently started kickboxing and I’ve been going regularly to Zumba. I plan to start spinning class to train for the 24 mile bike ride in August. I go for evening jogs and try to maintain my fitness and nutrition goals everyday. I am trying to make positive changes in my life. I want to get in shape, not only for the races, but to lose weight, feel good, and ensure that I will live a long, healthy life (at least what I can control, that is). I want to be a good role model for my children as well. And, of course, I need to ensure that I can keep up with them since it is now just me raising them.
Besides being active, I have lots of plans for me and the kids. This weekend is Colorado Cosmic Con. It’ll be our first convention and I’m very excited. Next month, I get to see LeVar Burton speak. In May, I have the Spartan Race, the Inflatable 5k, Denver Comic Con, and a Lindsey Stirling concert. And I have much more planned for the future.
For anyone reading this, remember, that we all cope in different ways. But also remember, that life can and does go on. It is a tough pill to swallow, but ultimately, your heart will heal and the pain will become less and less over time. I am still fresh into my loss, but I have been feeling really good. I am sad at times, but otherwise, I’m productive, happy, and enjoying life. Guilt over moving on is also absolutely normal. You will feel like you are betraying your loved one by moving on. The fact of the matter is that most people, when they are about to leave a spouse behind, would want their spouse to not be alone and to hopefully find someone that can fill that void. So many feelings encompass you as you cope with your loss, but however you do cope, remember it is normal, so long as it isn’t destructive (to oneself or to others). Just remember, there is hope and you have the strength within you.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

One month ago

I cannot believe that a month has gone by since Scott passed away. His presence in our lives, absent for 28 days, is dearly missed. A month ago they took his body away and I utterly broke down, throwing myself on his hospital bed. There are times where I forget he is no longer alive. A brief moment where I think: I have to show Scott this. As quickly as the thought would come, it fades away into emptiness and sadness. I remind myself that I cannot show him anything. I cannot tell him anything. He is gone.
I sometimes find it hard to believe that he is not here any longer. That I will not get to feel his hand caressing my cheek. I will never feel his lips against mine. I will never be able to curl up in his arms with my head upon his chest, rising with each breath.
I got lucky with him. Being a larger woman, my opinions about how I look are not exactly positive. Scott, however, never made me feel ugly. He never made me feel unloved. He always reminded me of how beautiful, smart, wonderful, and amazing I was to him. He would brag about me to his friends. He would boast about what an awesome mother I was. He told me many times that he was the luckiest man alive to have found me and to have my love in return for his. I have no doubt that he loved me more than anything in the world. We were meant for each other. Soul mates.
But now he’s gone. I feel as if my soul were ripped in two. My essence and being forever changed by the mark he left in my heart and mind. The love of my life, gone and never to return.
It hurts. So much. But I am good at hiding it. I am really good at distracting myself. I keep telling myself and others that Scott would not want me to be depressed and to live in misery. He would want me to move on, to live life, to live for him, and to be happy. I have definitely had happy moments. But at times, these moments are filled with a little bit of guilt. Should I be more depressed and sad? Am I not grieving in the right way? Do I appear too happy? Can some see through the façade that I have put on display? Do I cry too much? Do I cry too little?
I do not know the answers to all these questions. I have heard that everyone grieves in their own ways. So, what may be right for one person, may be too much or too little for another. I have been told that I have been coping extremely well. Which is fairly true. While in the presence of others, I tend to keep a positive demeanor and be my normal “bubbly” self. Every once in a while, someone will throw me off guard and I talk about Scott, the kids, and other aspects of our cancer journey and losing him. I am usually skilled at holding back tears, which linger at the surface ready to explode at any moment.
Sometimes, I feel like I have cried so much over the last year, that I cannot cry anymore. My tear ducts have run on overdrive and they are quite tired. Instead of tears, I have noticed that I get aches in my chest. A real pain sears through my heart causing me to gasp and choke. I feel that this is something that will take quite some time to fade away. The intensity diminishing over time. It is not something that will suddenly go away.
One month ago, Scott took his final breath and left this world. The first of many months to come. I know what it feels like to lose someone. I know the pain will never go away. I know that it lessens over time, but a hole will remain for as long as I shall live.
I leave you with a poem. This is modified from the original version, which was printed in the memorial folders (service programs).
292284_216209868430952_8365487_n

When I come to the end of my journey
And I travel my last weary mile
Just forget if you can, that I ever frowned
And remember only the smile


 

Forget unkind words I have spoken
Remember some good I have done
Forget that I ever had heartache
And remember I've had loads of fun


 

Forget that I've stumbled and blundered
And sometimes fell by the way
Remember I have fought some hard battles
And won, ere the close of the day


 

Then forget to grieve for my going
I would not have you sad for a day
Lay out a good board game
And remember a time we played


 

And come in the shade of evening
When the sun paints the sky in the west
Stand for a few moments beside me
And remember only my best