Today we celebrated my Mom’s birthday with most of the immediate family gathered around a common table.  We began a new tradition today.  A family meal at a restaurant, instead of a meal at Mom’s house.  We were very aware of the empty chair.  Mom and Dad’s birthdays are four day apart so we usually celebrate their big days together.  We usually would buy one cake and put both of their names on it to save calories and money.  Here’s a link to a favorite video of last year’s birthday celebration.  Happy Birthday 2015

I am grateful for this quieter day and the gathering of siblings, grandchildren and the one great grandchild.  Benjamin lights up the room with his smile and discovery of new words.  Four generations gathered together, in our grief and in our joy, to remember that loves binds us as a family.

Today’s blog is a walk down memory lane.  Today I drove to Manhattan, Kansas for a meeting with some United Methodist colleagues.  I arrived for the meeting a bit early so I took a cruise through parts of campus.  Thirty six years ago this week my parents loaded up the blue station wagon with all of my stuff and headed to K-State to drop me off for my freshman year.  The whole family brought me to school. Mom, Dad, and Brian, age 6, loaded up and headed west.  I was embarrassed by the fact that my parents were taking me to college.  I waned to appear worldly and independent.  In reflection I think my mother wanted to make sure I actually made my bed and packed appropriately.

 

My room was on the third floor of an old dormitory without air conditioning or an elevator.  The summer of 1980 was the hottest on record and the day we moved in was no exception to the heat wave.  We lugged all the clothes and bedding up the stairs.  We made the requisite trip to Wal-Mart for a fan and goodies.  My parents took me out to dinner and then it was time to depart.  I hugged Mom and gave my brother a pat.  My Dad gave me a quick hug and the handed me a twenty dollar bill.  He said, “just in case you need a little bit more to get by.”

Memories like this catch me every day.  As I drove  today I remembered so many things about trips to Manhattan.  Mom and Dad came to every concert that I sang in and every performance of the band.  They would show up at the concert, take me to dinner and then head back to Kansas City. (This was back when the speed limit was 55 and the trip took much longer.)   I’m so grateful to have these memories today.  Grief takes my breath away almost every day.

I’ve been reading a little book called, Permission to Mourn by Tom Zuba which has been quite refreshing and helpful.  I recommend it highly.  It is mostly poetry and journals from the experience of Tom Zuba after facing the death of several loved ones.  Each person has their own experience of grief and mourning, comparing my journey with someone else’s would be a mistake.

Tomorrow is Mom’s 80th birthday.  If you want to send her greetings, let me know and I’ll send you her information.  She would be thrilled to hear from many people on this hard day to come.

 

 

 

Small acts of kindness are making a big impact these days for me.  One Sunday School class here at church knows that I LOVE Diet Coke so they gave me a 24 pack of it.  Every morning when I come into the office I see that 24 pack and remember that I am loved.  (It’s down to a 20 pack now.)  Another act of kindness we received was a couple gift cards to a favorite restaurant.  The handwritten messages  inside the many cards which reminded me that all of our family is surrounded in love.  The cards also admonish me to take care of myself.  Each of these kind acts are little bits of grace in the midst of this hard time.

This quote from Anne Lamott is providing lots of encouragement for me today.  I know that this current sadness will remain in some way but it will also change   I will be changed from this experience.  Simple changes are already happening.  A BIG birthday is coming up for Mom this weekend.  We usually celebrate a joint party for Mom and Dad together, as Dad has an August birthday too.  How do we honor this big number in Mom’s life while we are still so numb with our recent loss?  She’ll be a real live octogenarian.  We are trying a new location and plan for the party.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

As part of Mom’s on going treatment for a leg hematoma sustained from the accident three weeks ago she goes to a wound care center three times a week. The wound care doctor is great and entertaining too.  When the hematoma is debrided it seems to be very painful.  Mom just white knuckles her way through the entire procedure.  It’s hard to watch.  The doctor calls Mom a T.O.B. for the way she handles all of pain.  A T.O.B. is a tough old broad.  It is said with affection and humor and Mom laughs about it.

I would agree that Mom is a T.O.B. because she is handling this as well as you could expect in these circumstances.  She’s handled cancer, the death of her parents and many other challenges within her life.  You are an inspiration, Mom.

I’ve elected through this time in my life to share some of my thoughts and feelings through this blog.  I’m not  sharing everything I am feeling from this time because somethings are private and need to stay that way. I’ve decided to share some things because it feels like I have two choices in the light of recent events:  close down and shut myself off or open up and be a bit vulnerable in these times.  Vulnerability comes at a cost too.  It means I also have times when I pull myself away and tend to my soul.  I’m a Tough Old Broad in Training (TOBIT).  Watch out world.

 

When someone you love dies in a car accident there are many horrible things to come to terms in your new life.  One of the most unexpected parts comes in the mail.  First of all, there are mailers from the personal injury lawyers.  We started receiving letters within 48 hours of Dad’s death.  I’m married to an attorney. He’s definitely one of the good guys.   I like a lot of lawyers.  However, these personal injury lawyers are not on my list of desirable human beings.  I will not go further into describing these pariahs because as a ordained United Methodist clergy I took certain vows of seeing the best in people.

The other item in the mail is the beginning round of medical bills from the hospital, the doctors and the life flight helicopter.  Please do not hear this as a complaint about medical pricing.  It is merely a difficult reminder of the reality of the loss of someone who was so dear to us.  The amounts of these bills before auto and health insurance is jaw dropping.

When I was a college student we waited anxiously for the arrival of the mail carrier.  Now I dread the mail for my Mom.  The one bright spot in the mail is the many cards we have receiving from all of the country honoring my Dad.  Thank you for each card.  It makes getting the mail a bit more tolerable.

When I was in grade school my family owned a pop up camper. It was called a Puma.  It slept six people, just barely.  Some of my favorite memories of my childhood involve  camping with my family.  We’d pack up on Friday after every one was home from work

and school and we would head out to a lake or campground for a weekend of family time. I remember Mom packing up the groceries and clothes for our weekend camp outs.   One of the places that was particularly lovely was Lake at Pomme de Terre in Missouri.  On a particularly cool morning I was up early and Dad came out of the Puma to check on my whereabouts.  I was standing at the edge of the lake and picking up rocks and throwing them into the water.  Dad asked me if I knew how to make a rock skip across the lake.  I had never heard of skipping rocks and I was rather intrigued by the idea.

In order to make a rock skip across the water you needed to find a smooth and flat rock to skim across the top of the water.  The object was always to see how many jumps you could make across the top of the water.  I was not the most coordinated child.  (My family called me, “Grace”, and it had nothing to do with our theological roots.)  I have just the shadow of a memory of my Dad standing over me and showing me how to lean off to the side to skim the rock across the water.  He could make a rock skip four or five times.  I do not remember how long we stood at the edge of the lake practicing my form.  I do remember that by the end of our session I had skipped a rock twice across the water.  He told me that I had a good eye for rock skipping.  I felt ten feet tall with his encouragement.

Skipping rocks create circles of impact that ripple out from the point of impact.  Dad’s passing has created ripples which we are just starting to understand.  There are the details of Social Security, pensions, IRAs, and all of the legal stuff.  The legal stuff feels like the easy stuff compared to the realization that on his birthday he will not be here to harass.  On August 23rd he would have been 79.  It hurts to say, “he would have been”.  He should be here.

Today I’m so grateful for a Dad who went the extra mile and took us camping on weekends.  I would have been easier to stay home but Mom and Dad wanted to raise us with new experiences and a sense of well being.  I don’t think they ever thought about raising well rounded children or creating memories for us.  I think they just wanted us to see the world and to have a good time together.   Sometime soon I’ll tell the story of how he became called, “Woowoo” by his grandchildren.

 

 

Tuesday morning started with dog vomit and went down from there.  Ginger left me a surprise at the end of my bed.  My computer was updated in my two week absence and so when I went to start my work on Tuesday it did not recognize me.  Actually, I could not remember the password.  I’ve been using this password for a couple of months but I could not recall it this morning.  Thank you to our great I.T. guys who did not shame me or give me a hard time about my lapse in memory.

Normally I take these little bumps in the road in stride.  Sh** happens and then you move on.  I guess it will be a while before little bumps aren’t mountains to me.  Tread gently around the grieving.