I've been walking sideways since the day Lucy took her first steps. Things 1 and 2 have always moved at opposite speeds. Lucy has been full speed ahead from the moment she was mobile. Gabe on the other hand, he has always moseyed along. They each have their own pace for everything they do, and they are different in every possible way. Thing 1 is up with the sun and is ready to head for bed shortly after it sets. Thing 2 gets up after a lot of yelling and water hits her noggin, and only sleeps when she collapses. Thing 1 is quick with computers and academics, Thing 2 has the athletic aptitude and no desire to be still long enough to read or add a couple of digits. There are only two things on which they agree--McDonald's and ice skating.
As with everything else for these two, dealing with the loss of Dad comes differently. Gabe was more in tune with Mr. 1inamillion's illness and wanted to be near by to help in any way he could. He asked more questions, talked about things more along the way with me and their counselors. He is in fact wired very differently than all of us, his unique operating system giving him the ability to process things in another manner which in many ways helps. Diva, however, has mastered avoidance better than any other kid their therapist has met. She manages to keep it sunny and 70 in Lucyland nearly all year round. Therefore I am usually caught off guard when something does seep through her barrier and hits her hard.
The first instance with Thing 2 that I did not anticipate resulted in the damn sticker family on my van. Thing 2 decided at some point a year or so ago that she was a Jayhawk fan. The only one living in this house...or riding in my van. Daddy bought her one of those KU sticker family sets, assuring me that she would be able to put them in her room and not on the van. Unfortunately, there were brain mets before Mr. 1inamillion could give her said stickers with the explanation that they were NOT for mommy's vehicle. After she put them on the van and I later began taking some of them off, there were tears. But Daddy bought those for me! (My first year of college was at MIZZOU, Dane worked years for the K-State sports network. I just can't display that kind of devotion to KU. Sorry, but just. can't. do it.) We have since compromised with a WSU Shocker family that includes one KU cheerleader and pack member. (But I still have a stinkin' sticker family on my van, because a minivan in and of itself just doesn't cover it.)
There was fear and tears with my first business travel, which used to be business as usual. But you're my only parent now. There was pure hostility at the prospect of me meeting new people. You KNOW you're still married right? Daddy just died and is in heaven. It doesn't mean you're not still married. Now that last one was dripping with such venom, my eyes nearly popped out of my head, but on these occasions when she speaks, I get her in to the therapist as fast as I can, we listen and try to get her to speak more. It's a rare occasion that she expresses anything, so regardless the tone, it is welcomed. Most of the time, she bottles it and avoids to the point she physically hurts.
Yesterday was a big day. Thing 2 had her tumbling recital and last night was the listener appreciation show for the station at which Mr. 1inamillion worked. We were invited to attend several weeks ago and both kids were excited about attending at that time. As I reminded her we were heading to the show after lunch, I visibly saw her simply sink as the thought absorbed. She said she didn't want to go and remained just silent and visibly down as we ate, regardless of any attempt to compliment her performance or engage her regarding the recital. When I asked if she would rather leave with Aunt Shel, Thing 2 began to instantly lift and return.
It took a large effort to get Dane out of the house and to her recital last year. It was the first outing in the wheelchair and the last performance of any kind he would attend. During Friday's dress rehearsal I stood at the handicap seating where we sat the year before and soaked in the fact it was at this time we truly hit the beginning of his end. Following that with a station event was a bit much for me to handle, so it was no doubt too much for her and definitely a huge downer on her big recital day.
Thing 1, of course, operates on an opposite spectrum. He wanted to go to the concert, see Daddy's friends and be back in his world. He accompanied Mr. 1inamillion to work on many weekends, so it was a chance to see his friends, too. He seems to welcome those reminders and processes them completely differently.
So yesterday following lunch I walked sideways. I watched as Thing 2 headed off with Aunt Shel for the safe comforts of home and watched as Thing 1 walked to the van (easily identified by our sticker family) so we could head to a radio station event without Mr. 1inamillion.
Honoring memories
One of my struggles right now, particularly with writing, is honoring my memories with respect to those of others. I've mentioned before that I lost my Mr. 1inamillion to cancer long ago. What I haven't written much about is the differences in the husband that remained until he finally passed away. That is much of what I have been processing lately. My desire to balance memories of who he was before and who he was outside of our four walls, with my experiences with him is a lot of why there has been such a gap in blogging. I want to be honest in who I am and honest in my journey, but I've feared tainting how he might be remembered by others.
But what the hell, it's my blog.
Life as Mrs. 1inamillion carried some similarities to that of living with an addict. After all, years of tumors and treatments calls for a plethora of drugs. Even when taken as prescribed for legit needs they carry ups and downs, changing who we are. We walked a lot egg shells, rode a lot roller coasters. I sucked in a lot of his anger, bitterness and frustration to just deal and maintain as much 'normal' as we could. Holding on to the love and commitment for the man of whom I only seemed to catch glimpses, I distinctly remember consciously shutting down particular goals and ceasing friendships to peacefully survive however long remained. Because it was just temporary, and dear God it had to come to an end sometime. I put myself in a box, and am finally finding my way out.
I long to forget Thing 2 asking, 'Mommy, is it okay for Daddy to be mean just because he has cancer? Because I don't think he should get to be mean just because he has cancer.' I pray she forgets ever needing to ask such a question, but I expect she won't. I know they're young enough that many of their memories will be shaped by what we tell them, so I try to talk about Mr. 1inamillion-the early years as much as I can. I also know that the hard things define who we are, make us strong, and grow deeper roots so we shouldn't deny them.
But what the hell, it's my blog.
Life as Mrs. 1inamillion carried some similarities to that of living with an addict. After all, years of tumors and treatments calls for a plethora of drugs. Even when taken as prescribed for legit needs they carry ups and downs, changing who we are. We walked a lot egg shells, rode a lot roller coasters. I sucked in a lot of his anger, bitterness and frustration to just deal and maintain as much 'normal' as we could. Holding on to the love and commitment for the man of whom I only seemed to catch glimpses, I distinctly remember consciously shutting down particular goals and ceasing friendships to peacefully survive however long remained. Because it was just temporary, and dear God it had to come to an end sometime. I put myself in a box, and am finally finding my way out.
I long to forget Thing 2 asking, 'Mommy, is it okay for Daddy to be mean just because he has cancer? Because I don't think he should get to be mean just because he has cancer.' I pray she forgets ever needing to ask such a question, but I expect she won't. I know they're young enough that many of their memories will be shaped by what we tell them, so I try to talk about Mr. 1inamillion-the early years as much as I can. I also know that the hard things define who we are, make us strong, and grow deeper roots so we shouldn't deny them.
Worth The Drive
We hit the road again to St. Louis for the first time in nearly a year. Thing 1's eleventh birthday was Friday and we celebrated with a St. Louis Blues game with big sister. He absolutely LOVES hockey right now and a very first NHL game was exciting stuff. We both looked forward to the game and seeing the grown kid, the drive not so much. Gabe really looked forward to staying at the same hotel we always had on previous trips, I did not but it was his birthday so I booked his choice.
All three of us had a lot of fun at the game. We enjoyed our stay, saw some familiar faces and were both comfortable at the usual home away from home. I am sure Thing 1 will talk about this special birthday to anyone who will listen for a long time to come. I was nervous about repeating the familiar drive and venturing through familiar territory, but it was a completely wonderful trip.
I white-knuckled the wheel as we first passed the hospital on the highway towards downtown. I was bracing myself for a reaction of some sort but there was nothing. I feared my knees might buckle walking into the hotel lobby alone, but they did not. I thought there might be tears when I shut the door behind me once we made it to the room, but nope. We were forced to detour leaving Saturday morning, and that took us right through the hospital campus. Stated as matter-of-fact from the back seat as we passed the Siteman Cancer Center sign, "There's Daddy's hospital." Deep breath and "Yup, there it is." Tears? Nope.
It really was an adventure of pure fun and that was perfectly okay.
I had the best hot dog and beer at the game without scrutiny and we enjoyed the game to it's finish with a lot of cheering. I had complete control of the stereo for the entire drive. I only turned on the radio for traffic reports when we hit the city at Friday rush hour. My music, my volume all the way there and back. The whole way home I subjected my poor son to nothing but loud girl rock & country and my very bad singing. God bless headphones and video games, he did not complain about it once.
Days before, someone had mentioned the Dixie Chicks, which had me missing them and wanting to listen. We stopped at our favorite used game & music store just outside of KC and I picked up their live CD set. Then of course it got really loud in the van and I'm sure my singing got much worse (if at all possible). Once we hit the turnpike, that final stretch home, I finally had a moment when the disc came to "Top of the World." Always loved the song, but I guess never really captured it.
It's introduced with Natalie Maines stating, "it's written from the perspective of a man who has passed on and is looking back on his life, wishing he'd done some things differently and treated the people in it a little better."
The first chorus came, and took my breath away..
There's a whole lot of singing it's never gonna be heard
Disappearing everyday without so much of a word somehow
I think I broke the wings off that little song bird
She's never gonna fly to the top of the world
Right now, top of the world
And that's the moment the tears came. Had I been that clipped? I knew I'd broken some beneath the weight of his anger and bitterness on my shoulders, but I guess I hadn't realized just how clipped I'd become. Did he ever realize it? Regret it?
And then the final chorus..
'Cause everyone is singing we just wanna be heard
Disappearing everyday without so much of a word somehow
I wanna grab a hold of that little song bird
Take her for a ride to the top of the world
Right now
That song was followed by Sin Wagon and the tears followed with a great big laugh.
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!
All three of us had a lot of fun at the game. We enjoyed our stay, saw some familiar faces and were both comfortable at the usual home away from home. I am sure Thing 1 will talk about this special birthday to anyone who will listen for a long time to come. I was nervous about repeating the familiar drive and venturing through familiar territory, but it was a completely wonderful trip.
I white-knuckled the wheel as we first passed the hospital on the highway towards downtown. I was bracing myself for a reaction of some sort but there was nothing. I feared my knees might buckle walking into the hotel lobby alone, but they did not. I thought there might be tears when I shut the door behind me once we made it to the room, but nope. We were forced to detour leaving Saturday morning, and that took us right through the hospital campus. Stated as matter-of-fact from the back seat as we passed the Siteman Cancer Center sign, "There's Daddy's hospital." Deep breath and "Yup, there it is." Tears? Nope.
It really was an adventure of pure fun and that was perfectly okay.
I had the best hot dog and beer at the game without scrutiny and we enjoyed the game to it's finish with a lot of cheering. I had complete control of the stereo for the entire drive. I only turned on the radio for traffic reports when we hit the city at Friday rush hour. My music, my volume all the way there and back. The whole way home I subjected my poor son to nothing but loud girl rock & country and my very bad singing. God bless headphones and video games, he did not complain about it once.
Days before, someone had mentioned the Dixie Chicks, which had me missing them and wanting to listen. We stopped at our favorite used game & music store just outside of KC and I picked up their live CD set. Then of course it got really loud in the van and I'm sure my singing got much worse (if at all possible). Once we hit the turnpike, that final stretch home, I finally had a moment when the disc came to "Top of the World." Always loved the song, but I guess never really captured it.
It's introduced with Natalie Maines stating, "it's written from the perspective of a man who has passed on and is looking back on his life, wishing he'd done some things differently and treated the people in it a little better."
The first chorus came, and took my breath away..
There's a whole lot of singing it's never gonna be heard
Disappearing everyday without so much of a word somehow
I think I broke the wings off that little song bird
She's never gonna fly to the top of the world
Right now, top of the world
And that's the moment the tears came. Had I been that clipped? I knew I'd broken some beneath the weight of his anger and bitterness on my shoulders, but I guess I hadn't realized just how clipped I'd become. Did he ever realize it? Regret it?
And then the final chorus..
'Cause everyone is singing we just wanna be heard
Disappearing everyday without so much of a word somehow
I wanna grab a hold of that little song bird
Take her for a ride to the top of the world
Right now
That song was followed by Sin Wagon and the tears followed with a great big laugh.
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!
Online Dating
Yup. You read that title correctly. I've gone there. Though I'm not quite certain 'dating' is a accurate term. My last post I mentioned my desire to meet new people, preferably some in a similar point in life. Typically we meet people where we are at such as school or work, right? Have I mentioned I work from home, where I interact with coworkers via phone or Internet who are nowhere near my home state and I share actual office space with three dogs and a cat? Beyond work I'm shuttling kids. So where am I supposed to meet others in a similar point in life? Yeah, easiest place to go, is to go there.
I must confess, the anonymity of online 'dating' makes meeting boys again far less intimidating. I was twenty the last time I flirted. I was twenty the last time I went on a first date. You forget a lot in sixteen years. A lot. It's weird to be single again and a bit terrifying. The anonymity of meeting boys online easily allows baby steps and leaves me a lot of room to chicken out (SCORE). I say boys because I just feel like a teenager again, not because I'm actually meeting them (at least as far as I can tell--that's a definite downfall of that whole anonymity thing). Along with plenty of room to chicken out, it provides plenty of room to humiliate myself with people I will not have to ever see again face to face (BONUS).
So I've gone there and am surviving the scary baby steps forward. Like that very first meeting for coffee? Weird and awkward. (And it was just coffee, NOT a date) And that very first 'nice to meet you, but not interested'? Disappointing and also a huge relief. Then actually big joy, because I realized I just checked off my second very first rejection (YAY!)
I must confess, the anonymity of online 'dating' makes meeting boys again far less intimidating. I was twenty the last time I flirted. I was twenty the last time I went on a first date. You forget a lot in sixteen years. A lot. It's weird to be single again and a bit terrifying. The anonymity of meeting boys online easily allows baby steps and leaves me a lot of room to chicken out (SCORE). I say boys because I just feel like a teenager again, not because I'm actually meeting them (at least as far as I can tell--that's a definite downfall of that whole anonymity thing). Along with plenty of room to chicken out, it provides plenty of room to humiliate myself with people I will not have to ever see again face to face (BONUS).
So I've gone there and am surviving the scary baby steps forward. Like that very first meeting for coffee? Weird and awkward. (And it was just coffee, NOT a date) And that very first 'nice to meet you, but not interested'? Disappointing and also a huge relief. Then actually big joy, because I realized I just checked off my second very first rejection (YAY!)
Two steps forward, one step back
I've been busy dancing. One step forward, two steps back. Two steps forward, one step back. Now, strike a pose and Vogue. Then again--two steps forward, one step back. A few more steps forward, then a mad dash back and a dive into the nearest fox hole because, at times, this shit is terrifying.
I started the year with a new job. Same company, but a new role that is essentially a promotion. Unexpectedly, it had me paralyzed with grief. It was not that long before Mr. 1inamillion got sick in 2007 that I had secured a new position at work. The interview process again put me back on that road before the cancer detour, the road we were traveling together. I hung up after the first phone interview, walked out of my office and realized he wasn't there to rehash it with me. When I got the job offer, I was fighting tears before I even hung up the phone because he wasn't there to celebrate it with me. Mr. 1inamillion was the partner that supported me through school and work, the teammate on the career path who cheered me on, but now I was alone. I sat down at my desk the first morning of the new gig, saw my new title next to my name and sobbed. Strike a pose, now Vogue. I felt frozen. I envisioned myself merging back on that road we were on in 07, but alone and leaving him behind. I also remembered the man I was married to in 07 who was encouraging and supportive of me, and grieved that loss. A loss that happened long before 2012. It left me stuck for a while.
Fast forward through a bit of one step forward, two steps back and some more two steps forward, one step back. Dancing again, and finally able to reach back before the care taking and remember the good stuff, I realized I might like that again, and that I'm lonely. My circle of friends has shrunk amidst cancer and grew limited to couples amidst marriage. I office from home, so my 9-5 interactions are virtual or with the dogs. Mr.1inamillion always worked for a radio station, so our social life was made up of concerts and events with his circle of coworkers. I'm not quite sure who I am now, and with whom I fit. I married at 21 and by 22 my husband already had two surgeries and radiation. My entire adult life I've been the wife and caretaker of a radio guy with cancer. I feel like I'd been living in his world, now I'm trying to find my way in a new world of my own. How do you be a single adult? A single mom? Where the hell is my manual? Can I get a dance instructor here for all this two-stepping, maybe a hot one?
I have gained some courage and started reaching out to reconnect with old friends, pre-cancer & pre-marriage. I started searching and trying to connect with new friends. Confident, I had made several steps forward, but am easily spooked. Some memories or the horror stories of others have me saying, NEVERMIND and taking a step or two back. Dancing. A recent pull back into Mr. 1inamillion's territory sent me not just a step back, but fleeing for the nearest fox hole, diving in and ducking my head.
There is a song that has been stuck on my mind. Garth Brooks singing Learning to Live Again is killing me runs through my head almost on a continual loop. It's true. Moving forward is difficult and terrifying. Since someone else wrote that song over a decade ago, I can't be alone in this, right? I'm still in the fox hole right now, but I have lifted my head and am considering my next dance moves.
I started the year with a new job. Same company, but a new role that is essentially a promotion. Unexpectedly, it had me paralyzed with grief. It was not that long before Mr. 1inamillion got sick in 2007 that I had secured a new position at work. The interview process again put me back on that road before the cancer detour, the road we were traveling together. I hung up after the first phone interview, walked out of my office and realized he wasn't there to rehash it with me. When I got the job offer, I was fighting tears before I even hung up the phone because he wasn't there to celebrate it with me. Mr. 1inamillion was the partner that supported me through school and work, the teammate on the career path who cheered me on, but now I was alone. I sat down at my desk the first morning of the new gig, saw my new title next to my name and sobbed. Strike a pose, now Vogue. I felt frozen. I envisioned myself merging back on that road we were on in 07, but alone and leaving him behind. I also remembered the man I was married to in 07 who was encouraging and supportive of me, and grieved that loss. A loss that happened long before 2012. It left me stuck for a while.
Fast forward through a bit of one step forward, two steps back and some more two steps forward, one step back. Dancing again, and finally able to reach back before the care taking and remember the good stuff, I realized I might like that again, and that I'm lonely. My circle of friends has shrunk amidst cancer and grew limited to couples amidst marriage. I office from home, so my 9-5 interactions are virtual or with the dogs. Mr.1inamillion always worked for a radio station, so our social life was made up of concerts and events with his circle of coworkers. I'm not quite sure who I am now, and with whom I fit. I married at 21 and by 22 my husband already had two surgeries and radiation. My entire adult life I've been the wife and caretaker of a radio guy with cancer. I feel like I'd been living in his world, now I'm trying to find my way in a new world of my own. How do you be a single adult? A single mom? Where the hell is my manual? Can I get a dance instructor here for all this two-stepping, maybe a hot one?
I have gained some courage and started reaching out to reconnect with old friends, pre-cancer & pre-marriage. I started searching and trying to connect with new friends. Confident, I had made several steps forward, but am easily spooked. Some memories or the horror stories of others have me saying, NEVERMIND and taking a step or two back. Dancing. A recent pull back into Mr. 1inamillion's territory sent me not just a step back, but fleeing for the nearest fox hole, diving in and ducking my head.
There is a song that has been stuck on my mind. Garth Brooks singing Learning to Live Again is killing me runs through my head almost on a continual loop. It's true. Moving forward is difficult and terrifying. Since someone else wrote that song over a decade ago, I can't be alone in this, right? I'm still in the fox hole right now, but I have lifted my head and am considering my next dance moves.
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