According to the Mayo Clinic (which, let’s face it, the Mayo Clinic knows their shit), clinical depression is defined as “A mental health disorder characterized by persistently depressed mood or … Continue reading Depressed or Not Depressed?
Category: death
Don’t Poke the Bear
My husband is dead. He was my person. He knew me better than anyone and I knew him better than anyone. The father of my *very young* children is dead. We will grieve the way that is the most healing for my children and for me. Nobody has any right to judge that. My feelings are real. My words are honest. If you don’t fucking like it, don’t fucking read it. You do not know me. You cannot be shocked by anything I say because YOU DO NOT KNOW ME.
Here are all the things you don’t know:
- How I feel at any given minute on any given day.
- How my children feel at any given minute on any given day.
- My heart
- My children’s heart
- My soul
- My children’s soul
- My relationship with my husband
- My childrens’ relationship with their father
- The ins and outs of any part of our lives pre-cancer
- The ins and outs of any part of our lives post-cancer
YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT US. Keep your judgements to yourselves. Keep your passive aggressive cuts to yourselves. That is the LAST THING that we need in our lives right now. Our grieving and our healing and MY WORDS are exactly that, MINE.
Because my husband is dead. And I will write whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want and if you don’t like it, don’t fucking read it.
Month 3
Dear Jonesie:
It’s month 3 since you left this world. Happy anniversary?! That’s not appropriate. First, I’ll be nice to you. We miss you. We miss your silliness, your laugh, your smile, your grumpiness first thing in the morning, the way you never know what’s going on any given day. We miss your playfulness, your abilities with the grill, your hugs, your kisses, your love. We miss it all. The good, the not so good and the in between. But we’re doing ok.
Jack just finished his best basketball season yet. He was confident on the court, he was a real leader and he had FUN! Something we’ve been trying to get him to do for years. We have one weekend off and then baseball season starts. Our favorite season (yours and mine that is). This is the first year you won’t be coaching and gosh we’re gonna miss not being able to watch you not pay attention while coaching first base, looking around at everything but the game. Haha! Jack hasn’t expressed whether he’s looking forward to baseball or not. I’m hoping the confidence and leadership will carry over from basketball season but you never know with that boy. You know how baseball is a little bit tainted for him without you.
In other shocking Jack news (seriously, if you were here, this would shock the pants right off of you) – he signed up to do the talent show at school. WHAT?! How out of character is that! He’s going to do stand up comedy. I am floored. You would be floored! He had me order a whoopee cushion today (don’t worry, it was only $5) because that is the prop he needs for his act. I’m so proud of him. You would be so proud of him. He’s blossoming (doesn’t seem like a fitting word for a boy of 10 but whatever), maybe growing is the right word, into such a confident and inspiring young boy/man (boy doesn’t seem right, man definitely isn’t right – so some hybrid in between).
Mr. Tolt is still in the thick of his basketball season. He has improved so much from the beginning. He’s starting to score baskets in practice and even scored once in a scrimmage. Still waiting on the big game score – it might happen, it might not, but he is trying, still great at galloping and mostly having a good time. He just had to bring in a family picture for his Spanish class at school. I was nervous, talked to his teacher about what to do. His family has changed. You, of course, will always be his dad, but I didn’t know if this picture would upset him and I didn’t want that to happen. But this is Mr. Tolt we’re talking about here – blunt, matter of fact, straight shooting Mr. Tolt. Of course he will bring in a picture of his family and it will be a picture with Mama, Daddy, Jack and me. That boy amazes me. He grieves for you all the time. He will sit down, a somber look will come over his face and he will say I miss Daddy in heaven. I wish he didn’t have to go to heaven. I always say me too, buddy, me too.
T-Ball season is right around the corner for our Mr. Tolt. He still hasn’t decided if he’s playing. He really wants a trophy, though, so I think he’s leaning towards yes. The problem is I can’t remember if you get a trophy in T-ball. When he turns 6, I think Boy Scouts/cub scouts will be a great option for him. He’s our outdoorsman. Remember the commercial (I think it was Geico) with the young, rich maybe brother and sister and they’re off to some sporting event that they have no idea about and they’re like “yaaayyyy sports!”. That’s Mr. Tolt. Only he’s not rich. And doesn’t have a private jet. But he really doesn’t get sports. Or love them. Or particularly want to participate. Your brother seems to think that’s going to change and he’s going to surprise us all. We shall see.
Me, I’m ok. This isn’t easy, but we knew it wasn’t going to be. I want to move. I know we spent all that time and money trying to make this house what we wanted, but it’s just not what we want. First of all, the fire station building is still going on, may never end and just all around sucks. Ok, I know it will end but between it and public works, I’m over it. We’ll miss being able to walk to school but you know how much I love to ride and drive in the car, so it’ll all be just fine. The memory of you leaving us behind in our living room is too much to handle. Our memories here are mostly of illness, disease and death. We deserve a fresh start.
I’ve narrowed the lot search down to 2 and I really think I know which one I want, but I wouldn’t mind a little guidance from you somehow if you would be so kind. Except I know you won’t. Someone told me that our loved ones come back to us in our dreams. I’ve dreamt of you exactly 1 time. What the fuck, man? I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Ash. You do what you want, when you want, on the timeline you want. I should be used to it by now. But seriously. I’d love to see your face in my dreams. I’d love to know that you’re still here with us, checking in, keeping your eye on us.
I’m still doing the ladies golf leagues at Turf’s Up. It’s not the same. I’m grumpy every time I go. I want you to be impressed by this, though. I was on bay 4 on Monday and I hit some pure shots. I know they were pure because you taught me so well. I can now tell the difference between greatness and shit. And I had some greatness Monday night. And some shit. Because it’s me. Ha! Anyway, the greatness that I could feel was registering as shit on the screen so I said something to you know who. He told me he was on that bay earlier and it was just fine. I was pretty bitchy and said no it’s not and we kind of moved on. It pissed me off because you know how competitive I am and you know I want to win and I knew I was right because, let’s face it, you and I both know I am right 98.9% of the time. It’s both a blessing and a curse. (Also, side note, the team next to us scored a +7 Monday night and you know who entered into the scoreboard as a +6 – don’t think I didn’t notice, I did, and I’m mad.). Anyway, guess who texts me last night to tell me I was right, cameras were reading the wrong launch angle? It was said you know who. And this girl was right. Coz I know stuff. About golf. And golf simulators. Thanks to you. I also think my teammate and I should get like 4 mulligans next round for the inconvenience. But I’m not in charge. Boo.
We have a 4 day weekend this weekend. Today is the anniversary of your death. Friday is Valentine’s Day. So we’re getting the fuck out of dodge. We can’t be here and our lovely friends in West Virginia invited us to come stay with them for the weekend. Wish me luck. 8 hours there and back with the boys. What am I thinking? It will be an adventure, though. And it will be a distraction. And that’s what we need. Plus, we get to see our friends and we’re so excited about that.
I know this is getting lengthy, but I haven’t talked to you in 3 months. And I have so much to say. You should understand that, no one can talk more than you. I’m still pretty angry with you. And God. And myself. I often wonder if I had forced you into more treatment, would you still be with us today? But I know that wasn’t what you wanted. Or the right thing to do. I know you were suffering. And I know you are exactly where you are meant to be now.
Just to piss you off a little bit, I let the boys shower and use our bathroom every day. I don’t know why that bothered you so much, but ha! I’m in charge now. There are guys and trucks in the bottom of our shower all the time. It would annoy the shit out of you. They also use our fence toilet every day. I kind of understand your annoyance with that one, though. Those dudes can’t aim for shit! It’s gross! The boys still sleep in the same room. They need each other. Maybe, once our new house is built, they will go back to their own rooms. I’m fine with it either way.
Your puppy has apparently entered her “teen years” according to the vet and that means she’s rebelling, as teens do. Do you know how teen dogs rebel? They piss and shit on the floor again. Cool, huh? She’s still really cute but I’m close to my wit’s end with her. Maybe you could send some magic heaven voodoo down to make her stop. Is that possible? The brown girl is still Dog Kellie – bitchy, moany, groany and mostly annoyed but very cute ;). She get’s grayer by the day and that one tumor on her underside seems to be growing at quite a rapid rate. Maybe you need her? But we still need her here so ease up, would you?
Your mom is hanging in there. We’ve had many cries together. Colt is still her favorite. They spend some good, quality time together. She watches the boys on Mondays when I go to golf league and she picks Colt up from school once a week. She’s come to all their basketball games and so has Steve. I just love Steve. One of the best men around.
I know I’ve said it, but we miss you so much. We hope you are happy, pain free and giving God some good tips on his golf game. Check in on us when you can. We’re here and we’re ok.
Love,
Poopsie, Donkey and Mr. Tolt
These Are My Confessions
Full disclosure: This gets very sweary again. Yes, if you were wondering, I am singing Usher in my head as I write this. I rode to school my sophomore year … Continue reading These Are My Confessions
The Purge Part 2
I did it again. I got the dump trailer back and finished The Big Purge as I’m calling it (that’s not true, I’m not calling it anything, just felt like it needed a label. It really doesn’t.)
Moving on, I went through my bathroom, most of the office, the kitchen and both boys’ rooms (shhhh, don’t tell them how many toys and stuffed animals I actually got rid of, it’s a need to know basis, and they DON’T need to know. They also won’t even notice unless specifically told. Because they have too much shit). I went through the garage and then underneath the house where apparently we stored either medieval torture devices or yard tools that I will never touch, can’t be sure which they were.
I worked my ass off yesterday though. I was dirty, sweaty, grimy, smelly (in 5th grade, people thought it was cool to call me smelly Kellie, so original), sweary and all around disgusting. But it sure did feel good! I liked to pretend I was a spear thrower especially with the torture devices/yard tools (I’d let you be the judge but that shit is gone!) throwing them as hard as I could into said dump trailer. There is something very cathartic about throwing heavy things as hard as you fucking can into a trailer than can’t really be damaged (not by me throwing anyway!).
Side note, just got a call on my cell phone from myself. I didn’t answer. I should know I don’t like to talk on the phone. Next time, me, text me if you want a response.
Anyway, as usually happens with The Big Purge (make me stop calling it that), I found another notebook. An Ash notebook. Oh how he loved his lists. (I think I actually channeled my inner Ash with this whole house, moving, building decision because I made lists. Pros. Cons. Neutrals. Ups. Downs. Backs and forths. So, don’t worry, I’m not taking this whole move thing lightly. I’m not leading with my heart. I’m using my big ol’ brains this time around and I think my big ol’ brains are pretty spot on.) Anyway, a lot of tangents here. Sorry.
Back to The Ash Notebook (apparently I’m labeling that, too. Very into labels today). This notebook was one that he started post cancer/ sir-I’m-sorry-to-tell-you-that-you’re-dying-at-age-37 diagnosis. A lot of it was notes on the big words we had been told but didn’t understand. There were phone numbers and doctor names, appointments at Johns Hopkins and Duke, addresses to said appointments, notes on what to bring with us, new vocabulary words such as biliary, esophageal-gastric and tumor markers. There was also some random Turf’s Up notes in there and all star baseball information.
But, also, in The Ash Notebook was a list of all the places he wanted to visit while he was still here with us on Earth. Ash loved to travel. Aside from golf, it was his biggest passion. He was happiest when he was somewhere new, experiencing something different. Some of the places on his list, we actually made happen and some of them we didn’t. We made it to Durango, Silverton, Ouray and Telluride, CO. We made it to Ft. Worth and Austin, TX but did miss out on San Antonio. He made it out to California with Jack but not to the places he was hoping for – San Francisco, San Diego and Redwoods National Forest. We even made it to “somewhere warm and tropical with an oceanfront room.” We went to Jamaica with our boys and had exactly that! How lucky are we? There were only a couple of places he didn’t make it to – Arizona (Tucson, Scottsdale and the Grand Canyon), Ireland (though, to be fair, I think it was his dream to take me there because I wanted to go more than one of his bucket list places), New York City (this one we tried to make happen a few different times but because of either kids, their sports, his treatment schedules and just the way he felt every day, we never did make it happen). We made a lot of it happen, though and I am so grateful for that.
Also in this notebook, I found some notes to me and I thought I’d share them, because it’s exactly what I needed to read, exactly what my heart needed today. I’ve been struggling a lot lately. My anxiety has been high. I’m worried for the future, for the boys, for always being alone, just so much anxiety and this was the soothing balm that my mind, body and soul needed. Here it is:
Kellie:
I’ve been with you a third of my life! 12 years – married for 10 – 2 kids and a Bogey! Wow!
Words are good but actions are better.
You show me every day how much you love me and the boys. Selfless, tireless, caring, committed and devoted…
It has been amazing to watch our family grow – and thrive – together – you and I – every step of the way through life, adulthood, parenthood and beyond. Our bond is sacred and special.
No matter what the future holds for us, our past – memories, the history we have together will always keep us comforted. We have weathered so many of life storms together and there will be more ahead – but we will always be together no matter what because you are a part of me and I am a part of you.
I see you in our children like I see myself. The greatest gift you could give me – you already have – it’s your love. As hard as life can be, it’s the people you surround yourself with and spend your time with that truly makes life special. My life could not be more special thanks to you.
He’s so right. He will always live on in our memories and in our hearts. We lived so much in our time together, and while his time has ended, I’m still here. My boys are still here. I think we needed this reminder. Yes, it’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to be angry. But let it come and let is pass. And then live the shit out of this life. Love the shit out of each other. Inhale the good. Exhale the bad. And just keep going. Do what Ash would do. Live with passion and love and humor and travel and all the wonderful things that this life has to offer.
Thank you, Jonesie, for this reminder. Thank you for always being here when I need you most. The boys and I will love you always and we will honor you by living our asses off.
Back to November
Post overload I know, but in the words of one of my favorite little boys from one of my favorite movies “when I feel it, I do it.” Sure, he … Continue reading Back to November
Adulting is Hard
I have a confession. I am looking for a new house. My boys hate it here. I hate it here. Their father passed away in the living room. Their grandfather passed away in the living room. There are too many memories that aren’t good. Ash was sick for most of the time that we lived here. We can’t do it. We can’t stay.
Problem number 1: everything on the market that I am willing to afford is more than likely a heaping pile of shit (apparently this is my expression of the week). I have found 1 acceptable home and it is *near* perfect. The kitchen is lacking in cabinet space, which I can work with. My dad is a builder. He can make shit happen. The major problem is the fact that the driveway is at such a steep grade that I don’t know if I can get past it. Which I know sounds stupid. The lot is huge. Unfortunately, most of it is unusable. Because its on a fucking cliff. Ok, not really, but you get the point. The front yard is a huge hill and the backyard is a huge tree filled hill. Those aren’t really fixable things.
The biggest problem of all is that there is no one to help me figure out what to do. There is no one to rein in my heart invested impatience. To help me think with a level head. Ash did that for me. He brought me back to reality. To the facts. The neighborhood is quiet and tucked away. The boys would be close to some really good friends. The house is beautiful. But we might die getting in and out of the driveway. The boys will lose countless balls down the fucking hill of doom. Riding their bikes out of the garage will be a near death experience every single time. What is one to do? There is literally nothing else out there that is acceptable.
So this raises the question should I buy a lot and build my own home. That gets scary coz this mama definitely has champagne taste on a beer budget (as my dad always likes to remind me). Should I sit tight and wait? That’s not something I’m good at. When I decide something, I want to make it happen immediately if not sooner. My mom would refer to that as the instant gratification generation. I’ve always wanted what I want when I wanted it. And I think losing a spouse so early in life does nothing to deter that mind set. If anything, it does just the opposite. I could be diagnosed with cancer next week, in a deadly car crash next month, why should I postpone what I know in my heart is the right thing to do? Except, other than getting the fuck out of dodge, I don’t know what the right thing to do is at the present moment. The boys and I deserve happiness. We deserve a fresh start. I know we can’t force it, we don’t need to settle, but is nearly perfect settling? I just don’t know.
In other news, the boys and I had family therapy today. Our first (and last) session. It was a freaking shit show (another favorite this week). 5 year olds and therapy don’t really mix. I basically paid $80 for Colt to play with stuffed animals and legos. The same exact thing he was doing before we left the house to get there. I, on the other hand, cried like a baby while we were there. Our therapist read some book about losing things and missing them and forgetting them and it got me right in the feels. Everything is getting me right in the feels this week. Jack just tried to feed her jelly beans flavored like black pepper, vomit and ear wax. Really good session.
Then we meet Ash’s mom and her friend, in town from Texas, for dinner, which was pleasant.
We then have to rush home because Jack has about 14 projects due in the next 3 days and too many math problems to complete. First up, the projects. Hello 4th grade teachers, why the fuck is every one of them due at the same time? And why the fuck are they almost the exact same project, for different classes, on different people? And why in the actual fuck do the children have to dress up like an explorer that’s been dead for centuries? Do you think we have a suit of armor with some puffy sleeves just laying around the house? Do you think my child is doing anything to help with said dressing up? No, it all falls on me. That is a stress I don’t need. Do you know another stress I don’t need? 4th grade math. What are y’all doing? Why can’t my child multiply and divide like a normal mathematical person? Why all the drawings and graphs and circles and dots and lines? I don’t understand what’s happening at all. Can I come sit in on math class so that maybe I can help him with his homework? Jesus. When did math get so complicated? Is this what calculus is like? Are we preparing him for that? I was never smart enough for calculus so I have no idea. Again, more stress I don’t need.
Fast forward to bed time, and this is where my complaining gets a little ridiculous, but I need TV to fall asleep. (and Xanax but you didn’t hear that from me). I like to watch something funny – used to be Friends until those Netflix bastards took it away from me (more stress I don’t need) and now I rotate between That 70’s Show and Schitt’s Creek. Well guess the fuck what? The Wifi signal is all of a sudden too weak to reach the TV in my bedroom. Spectrum…have you done this on purpose? Is there something newer and faster and more expensive that you’re trying to rope me into? Guess what internet Gods, your withholding my fucking falling asleep television show caused me the biggest breakdown I’ve had in weeks, ok, maybe days. Who am I kidding? I breakdown all the time. But, I just want to watch my damn show and giggle and not think about houses and driveways and vacant land and Hernando de Soto and Julius Caesar and fucking 4th grade math.
Also, I just got warned that imminent doom is headed our way anyway so maybe none it really fucking matters at all.
Adulting is hard AF.
Gratitude
There is so much the boys and I have to be grateful for. We have a roof over our head, food in our bellies, we laugh every day and we love every day. That love and laughter probably wouldn’t come as easily if it weren’t for our beyond amazing (I really wish I had another word for amazing…) family and friends. You all are such a light for us. You keep us strong and able to put one foot in front of the other each and every day.
I’ll start with my parents. What can I say? There is no way I could ever repay you for all you do for us, all you have done for us – even before cancer and travel and death, you were always here to offer a helping hand, guidance and maybe a bit of constructive criticism to see how truly idiotic we were being. You take all my babies at a moment’s notice whenever life is too much for me, or I need a break or I decide dancing with my girlfriends is the way to get through any given night. You help me with so many household tasks that seem overwhelming to me. You make me meals, support my children in everything they do, even with the heaping dose of attitude on the side we seem to be getting these days. You all are everything to me and I could not do ANY of this without. You listen to our biggest complaints and our strongest fears. You always have the best advice (even when we don’t take it). You love me unconditionally even when you don’t understand me. You love my boys unconditionally and always try to guide them in the right direction. Thank you isn’t enough, but, for now, it’s all I have.
My brother and his wife. When Ash first died, my brother was here all day every day just to be that strong force for my boys to lean on. His wife didn’t get mad. She just let him be here. My boys went through a phase for a few weeks where they needed to call/Facetime Uncle G every night or they couldn’t go to bed. He always answered. He never got frustrated (even when both boys were just silent and making weird faces at him). He’s here for them all the time. He’s Uncle G, Coach G, Fun G and sometimes Disciplinary G! He loves my babies like they are his own. His wife gives him the time to really be here for my boys and for that I cannot be more grateful. Let’s face it, my boys need all the strong male help they can get! That is not my area of expertise.
Ash’s brother (and children). We haven’t always been the hugest part of each other’s lives but tragedy tends to bring people closer. He’s been here for my boys (and me) also. Helping coach, taking them to do fun things and always being able to make us laugh. They (who the fuck are these “they” people) say laughter is the best medicine and it’s true. And you do that for us (with you/at you – what does it matter?!). In all seriousness, we appreciate you so much. You all are another force in our lives that we couldn’t do without.
My friends. Thank you for always including us in your families. You take us in, you feed us, you share stories with us, you give us your time. Time is our worst enemy right now. It tinkers by so slowly and you all must know that because you invite us into your lives to fill your time and fill our time. You answer all my crazy and slightly (maybe more than slightly) annoying texts, you help us when our power goes out, you let us invite ourselves over on family Sundays where I sit on my special perch and my boys ransack all your toys, you include us in family game nights and bowling nights and pizza night. You let us spend the night so that I can drink more wine than is necessary and we can be surrounded by your loving arms. You check on us all the time and you are always willing to help. You love the boys like they are your own. You show them patience when they are struggling. You don’t judge me when I’m having a bad day or break down and cry or curse like a sailor. You, too, love us unconditionally and let me say, that feeling is reciprocated. We are so fortunate for you, my friends. Thank you for doing life with us, tolerating us and making our lives a little brighter every day.
I’m also going to throw some gratitude at my dogs. Y’all annoy the shit out of me but thanks for always keeping me warm at night and thinking the sun rises and sets out of my ass.
Grief (and cancer and death) sucks. It sucks a little less if you’re surround by the best family and friends in the world. And we are.
Also, it looks like the sun is starting to come it. It’s a good day to have a good day.
Adventure for My Soul
There’s been something on my mind for a while. (Mama, be warned, you’re not gonna like this one!). As you know, Ash was cremated and had a few spots he would like his ashes scattered. Jack, Colt and I took care of the first spot, off the Kitty Hawk Pier into the Atlantic Ocean on New Year’s Eve. It was a beautiful, crisp bright day. A little windy (hence why a little bit of Ash may or may not be stuck on a piling on said Kitty Hawk Pier). I said a few words (the boys didn’t want to), we took a few pictures and we let go of our first piece (is that the right word? Probably not.) of Ash. There was some laughter, a little tearing up and a lot of arguing between the boys. I don’t think Ash would have expected it any other way.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the next destinations. The Grand Canyon, Salado and Ft. Worth, Texas and Ireland (wherever I so choose!). I’ve decided Texas should definitely be a family trip with the boys. They had so much fun when we went last spring break. They got to meet some of Ash’s closest friends, fish, ride horses, play in the creek, eat real Tex Mex, and Texas BBQ (different from NC BBQ) and they/we fell just fell in love with all of it. It will be difficult to go back without Ash but it is something we have to and need to do together. The 3 Musketeers (ok, we don’t call ourselves that but whatever.)
Ireland is in the 5 year plan. I don’t intend to take the boys to Ireland. They are young and complain a lot and it’s too much money and too far to go to spend 10 days listening to them bitch. Sorry boys, you know it’s true. So that will be an adult only trip, but down the road a bit. It’s going to take some cash and a lot of planning that I don’t have the energy to put into at this time.
That leaves the Grand Canyon, which I’m thinking of heading out over spring break in April. I’ve had many different thoughts on this one. The kids and me? Maybe but again it’s another long trip where a lot of fighting and complaining will happen. Girls trip to Vegas with a quick hop over to the Grand Canyon? Anyone (adult) trip to Vegas with the same quick hop? I thought that was the way I would go, but the more I think about it, the more it turns me off. I don’t want to cheapen what I’m doing with some drunken trip where I spend too much money, drink too much booze and forget the whole reason I am there. I am there for Ash, to honor him, to remember him, to free him and to free myself.
So that leads me to where my thoughts lie now, something that has been toying with my brain (and my heart) for a while. It started as a fleeting thought. Road trip somewhere? And then it grew. Road trip to the Grand Canyon? And then I let it go, or I tried to let it go. But it just kept nagging and growing and growing and nagging. What if I go to the Grand Canyon, drive myself there (maybe with a friend and maybe not – it’s ok mama, it will all be ok!). What if I make it an adventure that Ash would be proud of? What if I step outside my comfort zone (Ash’s proverbial box) and do something fun and exciting and a little bit scary? What if I let go of what people think and just do what I feel is right deep in my soul? What if I create a beautiful life experience to honor my deceased husband that I will remember for the rest of my life? Just thinking about it, writing about it is bringing tears to my eyes, I can feel the blood in my veins coursing through my body, my heartbeat escalating and I just know this is what I’m supposed to do.
There is a camper van sitting in my driveway. It’s not mine, but maybe, just maybe I could borrow it? Rent it? Can someone teach me how to use it over the next 2 months should the answer be yes? Maybe I could bring a friend. Or maybe I drive my car and maybe I do this all on my own.
I want Ash to be remembered for the way he was – always LIVING, always looking for his next adventure and always Always ALWAYS having the balls to do it. And this is one thing I can do for him that I know he would be so proud of and love so hard.
So, Mama, don’t be scared. I know what I’m doing. Can you keep all my things while I release another part of my heart?
Moody Monday
Today was one of those days that just kind of sucked. And it didn’t suck. I had weird conversations with my children. I had lunch with a friend where apparently my tears were on the menu. I received more bad news than I wanted. And I returned to the business that Ash and I started together, for the first time since we sold it and it was just so different.
I got up early this morning, did yoga, made Jack’s lunch for school, had my coffee, got the boys up, walked the dogs, made (you know, poured bowls of cereal) the boys breakfast, took Jack to school, came home, jogged on the treadmill, took Colt to school, grocery shopped (are you bored yet?!). I’ll stop. I just did the shit you do as a parent. Normal. I started the day off happy enough. I made a lunch date with my sister from another mister (I don’t generally say that ridiculous saying but it seems fitting for our relationship). All good things, right?
I picked up Colt from preschool and we headed to lunch with my friend. We’re chatting, catching up and then a bomb gets dropped on me. Not really, if a bomb really got dropped on me clearly I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this. My friend is moving. Far, far away. I’m not surprised. But it surprised me. And it made me sad to my core. She’s one of those people that is always there for you no matter what. Would give you the shirt off her back (and complain the whole time while doing it!). I love her like she’s family. I’ve known her longer than I knew my husband. And I just can’t imagine doing life without her being near me. I know she has to go. I know why she has to go. But it doesn’t make the pain any less. Bitch. Kidding. I love her. But bitch.
So, weepy lunch. Then I get more bad news. My oldest, Jack, is a pretty decent baseball player. Last year he played on at 12U travel team. In his last travel ball tournament, he got hit in the mouth with a pitch so hard that it knocked a tooth out. He sat out the remainder of that game but played in the very next one because he’s a bad ass like that. That night we went home and he threw up. Being the most excellent mother that I am, I put him to bed shortly after said throw up and checked on him later. He woke up the next day saying he still felt nauseous so I finally took him to the ER, where it was determined he was perfectly fine (dodged a mom fail there) but he missed his last baseball game of the season. 2 days later, his father dies. A week or 2 later her declares he’s never playing baseball again. Poor kid had been through so much trauma/drama/what-the-fuck-is-this-life bullshit that he decided baseball wasn’t for him. Which was pretty devastating in and of itself. Then he decides he will play baseball again, but only regular season league ball – he’s not doing travel or fall ball. Ironically, 2 weeks ago he decides actually he will play travel ball and can’t wait for it to start up again. So, naturally, because this is the run of luck we’re having, we get an email today to let us know that the team has broken up, too many boys have too many other things going on and it can’t continue. Cue the tears.
I tell Jack and he handles it just fine and decides he’ll see if he can play for the other travel team with all his buddies! Except, no son, you can’t because that one is 9U and you are 10 and there are no other local teams in your age group in our area. Ugh! He handled it better than I did but was still pretty bummed.
Move on to dinner. We’re sitting there, just chatting about the day, when out of nowhere Jack says to me “Mama, I’d like a new dad.” And then Colt chimes in, “yeah mama, we need a new dad.” Then they continue with how it’d be so nice to have someone else here and how they miss dad and we can just get a new one. They said dinner is always so quiet and it would just be nice to have someone else here to play with and hang out with and love. Sure kids, I’ll pop on down to the dad store and pick the best one on the market.
This was not something I was prepared for. I should have been. Kids are so resilient and so much better at life than we adults are. They get hurt, they share their pain and they move on. The don’t dwell on things. They stay in the moment. They just get it so much better than we do. But this one just caught me so off guard.
I tried as best as I could to talk through it with them. I did mention that the dad store didn’t exist but that maybe one day we would meet someone, and we would fall in love with him and he would fall in love with us and that potentially, one day, someone would be here with us. I explained how I didn’t like the situation either, that I missed having a husband and a partner. I told them how much I loved them and how I wished I could wave a magic wand and bring dad back or take away the pain. But that I couldn’t . Then the conversation took a strange turn into who was king and queen of the family. For some reason they seem to think the dog, Bogey, is queen. I quickly informed them that hell no, mama is queen, Bogey can be the princess and it just got weirder from there. See? Resilient. So good at moving forward.
Did I do or say the right thing there? I have no idea. There is no guide book in my possession that is telling me “what to say when the kids ask for a new dad.”
On a completely different subject, the business Ash and I used to own was an indoor golf and sports simulation, beer drinking, kick ass place. We had a blast owning it. We used to run golf leagues. I played in the ladies league back when we owned it. The new owners have continued the golf leagues so a couple of girlfriends and I signed up. This was my first time back there, I think I already mentioned this, since we sold it. And boy had it changed. It was the same concept, but they had added so much to it. Nets and official golf club holders and ball holders and wood everywhere. So much more put together than Ash and I ever were! Still all the same pictures with an added picture of Ash on the wall. Luckily I had been warned about that so I just didn’t even look at it. But I looked at everything else. It didn’t cut as deep as I thought it would, probably because I was surrounded by love, light and laughter. The leagues were totally different, too. Where Ash and I were super laid back, this had so many rules. And that’s fine. Obviously it’s not mine anymore so why would it be run the way Ash and I ran it? It was just a little difficult to not be in control, to not have my friend behind the bar making sure my beer never ran dry, to not have the ridiculous loud 90s rap blaring while we hit wildly awful golf shots and took as many mulligans as we wanted to help boost our ever deflated golf egos, to have to wear shoes, to not have Ash there telling us why we hit it like such shit and having him tug on everyones belt loop to show how the hips are supposed to move and giving as much boost as we feel we need. Again, it’s no longer my rodeo, Ash and I were very different from the new owners. It was just an adjustment I didn’t quite prepare for.
But I did it. And I’m proud I did it. And I’ll be back next week to try again. But I might bring my own playlist!
JonesBoysMama 