Right back there...

I'm so exhausted in the mornings that I can barely get out of bed. 
Every night I say I am going to bed early.
Every night I find something dumb to keep me up and distract me.

Tonight it was the throbbing pain in my hip and looking for a song I want to download on iTunes, but don't know the name of.

I can get so distracted.

So, why not blog?  It's a great distraction and I have a lot to say.

Like, that it's so amazing how some things can take me right back to that time.
Right back to that chaos that some people call February. 
Some of my memories are SO clear.  SO vivid.  They even scare me.  I expect to walk into my dining room and see Nic laying in his hospital bed.  I can grab a quick kiss.  Hug.  Hand squeeze.  Or wink.  I can hear his voice. Or at least his breath.

It doesn't have to be anything profound that brings me back to these moments.  It can be something small.  Discreet. 

Or it can be large.  Large and in charge.  Like death.

A co-worker's son very tragically passed away over the weekend.  It was a sudden, unexpected death.  An accident. 

It was like people didn't want to talk to me about.  Tell me about it.  Like I was too fragile to handle the information.  Maybe I am.

Because right there.  Right there in the hallway of work, my life did a rewind to February.  February 23.  That day after.  That day that I had to wake up and realize he was gone.  That my life had stopped. 

Right there in the hallway of work.  I felt that pain in my stomach.  The air catch in my throat. 

I then I reminded myself.  I'm lucky.  I am lucky.  I held Nic's hand as he took his last breath.  I sang him our song.  He heard my voice as he crossed over.  And it hurts like hell.  But I got that moment.

How do you go on...not having the chance to say goodbye?

I've been very somber these days.  Thinking about all this.  And I will be going to the funeral.  I like this co-worker very much and need to be there to support her.  But how do I not make this about me.  Even on an internal level...how do I not walk through the funeral home doors and get taken right back to that day?

I picked out Nic's tombstone today.  Well, my parents did (that's a really long story).  I sat there and stared at the fax cover sheet from the funeral home that had Nic's name, date of birth, date of death and date of burial typed on it.  I felt sick.  I felt lightheaded.  It's a beautiful tombstone.  I really am so excited to see it at the cemetery.  To see the recognition Nic deserves.  But it made me sick to be there.

People think I'm going to be helpful to said co-worker.  Help her through her grief.  I can't do that.  I still ask myself every day...when does this get easier?  People say it does...but when?  And how?

Here's my sign that it's really time to go to bed... 

Exhaustion!

Yesterday....not a good day.
Compounded issues that resulted in my crying, hysterically, in my parents basement (weird, yes)
I brought a bottle of wine upstairs with me....and drank the whole darn thing.

I guess I need that every now and again.  An entire bottle of wine!

Amazingly enough, I feel fine today!

And it was a great night!  Hamburgers with Ray and Di.  A nice walk after dinner...infact, Eleanor decided she wanted to run and she did a dang good job!  I may be breeding a runner.  I may be more excited to breed a runner, than a dancer.  I mean, she really did good!

Then we put E to bed in her big girl bed and Grandma's and Papa's...because she refused to go in the crib now!

Then Ray, Diane and I sat outside on the front porch and just talked.  There were lots of laughs and some tears. 

To be expected on the 4 month anniversary of...well, you know.

Now I'm tired and ready for bed...but I need to end on one thing. 

Thank you.  Thank you to the person that sent me a card with a nice, fun, totally appreciated gift inside. Yup...another anonymous gift!  You people are too much!  I actually received the card awhile ago, but just needed to use it tonight. 

Sometimes I feel like everyone else has moved on. 
That everyone else has returned to a normal life.

And then someone says something or does something...  It's just nice to know people still recognize that my grief is still raw. That people recognize I'm faking it, most of the time.  I appreciate that I'm trying to manage and learn my new life...but trust me...your little, random acts of kindness...an e-mail, a card, a text, a fun surprise...they don't go unnoticed and sometimes are just what it takes to keep E and I going!

I think I need to go to bed before I start rambling and getting sappy!

Signs

OK, I get it...I look for signs of Nic in all of the littlest places...

But does anyone else find it strange how many powerful storms we've had this spring and summer?
It never is THIS stormy!

Nic LOVED a good storm.

OK...but seriously Nic, the thunderbolts so loud that they shake our house and make my heart skip a beat...that's a little excessive!  It's literally rattling my windows....

But, yes, I do take this as a sign from Nic. 
So, pour a glass of wine.  Sit in the garage.  And watch it storm.

Nic would want you to!

Oops, I did it again

Be honest with yourself.
If you received little amounts of sleep on Saturday night, because you slept with a toddler.
Limited amounts of sleep on Sunday night, because the cat knocked things over on your dresser at 10 PM, a storm rolled through at 2:30 and at 4:00 AM.
And it was 7:45 and you were just walking in the door since leaving this morning at 7:00 AM...

The last thing on your mind would be working out. 

I'm just exhausted! 

I feel pretty gross after inhaling a piece of cold pizza for dinner...but I do not have the energy to go downstairs and run.  I don't have the energy to go downstairs and do pilates.  Heck, I don't even want to do yoga.  I'm stalling until the clock hits 8:00 PM, then I'm changing into my pjs and.....whoop - there it is 8:00 PM! 

GOOD NIGHT!

Happy Father's Day

Originally, Eleanor and I had planned on skipping Father's Day all together. 
Originally, we planned on going to Canada, as I don't think the Canadians celebrate Father's Day.  At least not on Sunday, June 19, as the Americans do.

While I still have amazing fathers in my life to celebrate; the idea of spending a Father's Day with Eleanor, and not Nic, was completely horrible. 

As the day got closer, we decided not to leave the country, but at least to leave the state.  We spent the night in Chicago with a great friend(s).

Then last Friday, out of the blue, it hit me. It's totally stupid to boycott Father's Day just because Nic isn't here.  Rather, I wanted to celebrate the time we did get to spend with him. To celebrate the foundation he laid for Eleanor. 

Ignoring the holiday.  Ignoring that he was gone.  That just goes against everything I am trying to do.  Instead, I decided, I would take Eleanor to the cemetery. 

And that's just what we did. 

On our way home from Chicago, we stopped at Michael's and purchased Nic the most colorful, sparkly, spinney, lawn ornament we could find!  A rainbow, hologram, flower, that spins in the wind.  CLASSIC!

Eleanor and I drove to a VERY crowded cemetery.  Which made me start crying right away. 
We went over by Nic and sat down. It was really nice to just be able to sit there.  The first time I was there, I was there with several other people...oh...and we were burying him.  The second time it was April and gross.  The third time it was May and very soggy.  Today, we sat.  I wrote, "Happy Father's Day We Love You" on the petals of the flower and let Eleanor color on each petal. 

I told her we were in the cemetery and it was a special place where we could talk to Daddy and think about him.  She asked if we were going to see him.  I said no, I wish, but no.  She asked if we could go get him.  I said no.  But we could talk to him.  We told him Happy Father's Day and we loved him very much.  We missed him either a tich more or less than we love him.  It's hard to tell sometimes.  Eleanor asked to run around and I told her as long as she staid by me, but I was going to sit for a little longer.  I started crying hard and she came back by me.  "Mommy sad?" she asked.  "Yes.  I'm sad, Eleanor.  But I'm happy too." and we sat by Nic's graveside and hugged and cried (well, I cried) and then Eleanor wanted to go. 

I was slightly distracted at the cemetery today.  As the cemetery belongs to our church, I know many of the people around Nic.  One gentleman passed away, tragically, a year ago today.  His daughter was there and looked like she was having a rough time.  I wanted to say something to her.  OR I wanted her to hear that Eleanor was 2 and lost her father.  At least the other girl was much older when she lost hers.  Shame on me - loss is loss, no matter when it happens.  Or how it happens.  But I did have that thought. Instead I let her distract me. Nic understood.  I was always a people watcher. 

We drove away from the cemetery.  Me and my little girl.  My light and my life.  I told her how happy I was that we got to go there.  I told her I wished we would have taken the new bubbles we just bought and blown bubbles in the cemetery.  I told her next time.  I told her I loved her and was so lucky she was so amazing. 

We went to my dad's house and had a great dinner with the father that is still involved in our life. 

So, young or old.  Near or far. On this earth or in another reality.  Where ever your father is.  Where ever the man you child calls Dad is.  I hope he had a very special father's day.  I hope YOU had a very special father's day.  Nic may have only been Eleanor's dad in this place for a short amount of time, but that time formed her into the beautiful girl she is.  And I KNOW that Nic continues to be her dad.  Her very special angel. 

Happy Father's Day. 

High Hopes

She's got high hopes.
She's got high hopes.
She's got high in the sky apple pie hopes!

That's me, every night.  But seriously, by the time we go through the night, Eleanor is down and the kitchen is picked up, I sit down and think, "Holy Moly!  I survived another day!  Another night!" And I'm exhausted for that!

Tonight:
Leave work
Pick up E
Go to jewelry store for yet another ring sizing of my "NEW" RING (oh..didn't I mention that?)
Tell Eleanor that girls that are good in jewelry stores get to go to the park
Take E to the park
Run from toy to toy
Fall off the slide
Cry
Come home, make corn on the cob, fresh green beans and reheat home-made chicken nuggets for dinner
Eat dinner
Interrupt dinner 7 times to go potty...no potty comes out any of those times
Eat good dinner, get ice cream for dessert
Need to go potty...
Sit on potty...
GO POTTY!!!!!!!!
GO NUTS!!!!!
Eat Jelly beans!
Sing
Dance
Take a bath
Clean up kitchen
Put away Eleanor's clothes
Read stories (while trying to explain why we don't get anymore jelly beans)
Tuck her in
Finish cleaning up kitchen
Eat Oreos
Feel bad
Think I should go work out
Sit on couch with netbook and water
Don't get back up

God, I'm exhausted just typing that! 
No working out for me
No bills getting paid
No laundry getting done
No house getting picked up
No flowers getting watered
No clothes being put away

BUT
WE WENT POTTY IN THE BIG GIRL TOILET
AND
WE ARE BOTH ALIVE - WE SURVIVED
I guess I can say we had a very successful day
 

Today was a good day

I have new definitions for everything these days.

"Good day" is one of them.

Which is funny because in your dictionary...today probably wasn't a good day.

I didn't sleep at ALL last night and when I did finally fall asleep, I was woken by a cat jumping on my head.  Paw in eye.  Gross.  And painful.  A mix of emotions to wake up to.

But, I survived another one.

I'm being really hard on myself.  I just don't feel like I am as strong as I used to be.  I was reading old blog posts the other night.  Posts from January and February.  My writing was better.  My attitude was better.  My problem solving was better. 

Yes, I was a disaster.  But I was a disaster with Nic.  Shit happened and we worked through it together.  He wanted me and I wanted him.
He needed me and I needed him.
Anything we could do together, we could do.
Even in chaos, we prevailed.
I was stronger before. 

Now I'm just a messy disaster. 
I was classic art before.
Now I'm abstract.  No one really knows what they are looking at when they see me.  Everyone has a different interpretation.

So - I challenge myself - what is my interpretation?
What do I want to see?
Because, while becoming a widow has sucked, I also get something that most of you don't get. 

A second chance.

A do over. 

I'm changed.  I get to be someone different now.  Because I guarantee you, the Dana from before, she doesn't exist anymore.  I barely recognize that girl.

So who am I now? 
What is my landscape?
What do I see now?
What do I want now?
What do I wish now?

And I don't know the answers.  But it's like I told my doctor tonight...I'm just rounding that corner of grief.  Nic has been gone just over 3 months.  My grieving is still very intense.  Still very new and very fresh.  It's not a scar.  It's still a big, gaping, wound.  Barely even a scab yet. 

I'm not rushing through this.  You can't make me.  I'm going to take my sweet ass time.  While it may feel like Nic has been gone forever, to you.  He's been gone just seconds in my life.  I'm still learning.  Still figuring this all out.  I'm still trying to process that my love is gone.  My dreams.  My hopes.  Most of those - shattered.  Yes shattered. I can pick up the pieces and still have some of them (for Eleanor to grow strong and beautiful) But it's not the full dream...because She will not get to grow strong and beautiful with her father's assistance.  That piece, that piece gets broken out of each dream.

I'm trying, guys.  I'm trying so hard to be positive again.  Whatever that means.  What ever that definition is now.  I feel like for every good day I have, I'm punished, tortured with 10 bad ones.    

I also think that letting go of some of this pain is just as hard as holding on to it.  Letting go of it means I'm getting better.  Letting go of the pain means I'm coping.  I'm surviving.  And maybe...just maybe...I am.  Surviving.  Learning.  Adjusting.  Maybe, some day, the tears won't come as easily.  Maybe, some day, the breath won't get caught in my chest.  Maybe, some day, I won't have to remind myself to breathe.

Please.  Please don't forget he's gone. And don't forget that while I'm going through the motions, the pain is still very much  part of me.  It doesn't go away.  You just learn to live with it.

Whatta Weekend!

I'm tired. But what an amazing weekend!

Friday night I just hung out with some friends...maybe you know them?

Greg Jennings Charity Golf Outing

Gotta Love A-Rodg!

Still a tent nerd....Pretty Amazing - isn't it?

Best Date Ever!  Thanks, Dad!  I wouldn't have wanted to go with anyone else!

Saturday Cerveceros Game with the entire Terrones Clan!

Nic...you are SO TOTALLY BUSTED!

Simply Stated.



Well...it is a nice jersey...



If a picture says 1,000 words...what does this one say?  Please note, this IS a JOKE.  I was not arrested at Miller Park (last night anway :)



Cerveceros/Brewers



Cheers to Nic - and a great family!

Yup...it's gonna be a long night!

We all had a good time!

 Now I need a nap.  I'm meeting my sister and nephew for lunch and to pick up Eleanor and then, hopefully, we get to take a long nap!!  The lawn needs to be mowed.  I need to put my basement back in order after the slight flood I had (another story, for another time!).  Laundry needs to be done.  House needs to be picked up.

But nap...nap gets priority!

  

I don't feel like titling the blog tonight.

I didn't really plan on blogging tonight.

But two things happened.

First.  There are a few widows in my life that probably don't know how much of a profound impact they have on my life.

The first being Matt Logelin. Matt Logelin, who will be in MILWAUKEE on Friday and I'm not going!  BOO!  But...ask me why I'm not going and suddenly, you probably won't feel that bad for me!

The second being Rachel Balazs Harley.  I found Rachel through widow #3.  Rachel is just this beautiful widow that lost her husband to brain cancer when she was 5 months pregnant.  I silently follow Rachel on Facebook and think she has handled her grief with so much dignity and grace.  She, like Matt, has a charity/foundation in her spouses' name.  (Sorry, Matt...share and share a like!)  I think that would be just the most wonderful tribute I could ever give Nic.  Some day.

The third is Brandi Funk.  For me, there are no words to describe Brandi.  And if you know me, you know that.  You've heard me talk about her.  You've seen me post about her.  I have the Headrush link on the side of my blog. 

When Chris passed away last July, I didn't know how to tell Nic.  I was scared.  But Nic and I were together.  Together, we felt bad for Brandi and her two beautiful girls.  Never, never, never, in my wildest dreams, did I think I would be in the exact same category as Brandi, less than 8 months later.

I have met Brandi, unlike my other widows.  I have talked to Brandi.  And my family has talked to Brandi.  My dad solicited some advice from her when Nic entered Hospice and then passed.  (It's a strange connection how Ray knows Chris' family.)  And I still have an e-mail in my inbox from Chris.  I will never delete it.

So why am I mentioning all this?  I received an e-mail today.  Brandi wrote Chris' last CaringBridge update.  What is CaringBridge?  It's, essentially, Brandi's blog.  It's given me hope, courage, motivation, when I felt I had none.  I reread posts she wrote after Chris passed and justified the anger, bitterness, sadness and relief that I had in my heart.  The pain was over for the loved one, and mine would have to continue.  And Brandi, like Rachel, watched the loved one surgery after surgery.  Treatment after treatment.  And day after day of slow deterioration. 

Maybe I should find it inspiring.  Maybe I should find relief in the fact that Brandi no longer needs the CaringBridge page.  But I want it to continue.  I want to read about how she survives and how she's OK.  So on the days when I can't get myself to smile and I tell myself, "inhale" now "exhale", I remember that other people hurt just as much as I do.  And those people make it through the first year...The Funk's story is SO similar to me and Nic, that it's weird.  I don't know why this is effecting me so much.

And the second reason why I'm wasting your time tonight...Eleanor was playing in the living room tonight while I did the dishes.  She sounded SO sweet, playing by herself, making her people talk to each other, that I just had to video tape it.  I had to capture that innocence on tape.  Eleanor, once she saw me, came running over to the camera and and wanted to put on a show.  Then, of course, she wanted to watch it.  And do you know what happens after you are done watching the clip you just taped?

The video starts over.

From the beginning.
And there's Nic.  Doing dishes.
There he is.  Standing up straight.
Talking clearly.
Smiling.
Laughing.
December 31, 2010. 
New Year's Eve.
W.T.F.
What I have avoided for so long, was staring me in the face. 
And I couldn't turn it off because Eleanor was squealing with excitement, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
I was crying.  My heart was no longer beating.
And I had that feeling in my chest like when you can't breathe or when you can't hold your breath any longer.
There he was.
Celebrating New Year's Eve.
Celebrating.

Now. 
Here I am.
Kicking myself in the ass, saying, "Celebrate".  Look at that man and celebrate.
Celebrate his life.  Your life together.  That smile he gave the camera.

OK, I'll celebrate.  But I'm going to crawl into my bed and cry first.  Then...then I'll celebrate.

Running 101

I am here to share my vast amount of running knowledge with you:

Tip #1:  Your first run in 90 degree heat and humidity after a blistery long, cold winter, is going to be tough. It might even be crazy.  But it's going to be wonderful.  Which is kind of the tag line for running, anyway.

Tip #2:  Filling an empty Vitamin Water bottle with water prior to running may seem like a good idea; however, mid run, when you want to pour said water over your head, you will realize it wasn't such a good idea and then you will slightly smell like dragonfruit...and sweat...and laundry detergent.

Tip #3:  That number on the bottom of your ForeRunner Watch actually tells your current MPM.  It does not need to wait for you to complete a full mile.  Thus, if you feel like you are running slower than normal, you can just look down and see how fast you are running.  Amazing!

Tip #4: Running through downtown Cedarburg on a summer night is literally like running through your "youth".  Those kids in front of the Chocolate Factory - that was you.  The kids giggling in the park - that was you.  And it wasn't that long ago.  And then you realize...oh yeah..it was that long ago!

Tip #5:  Running without an iPod is very fun.  Once you get started, you don't even miss it.  You remember how fun it is to run without it.  Not possible, or advisable, when treadmill running.

Tip #6: A great run makes you think...hell yeah I can run a 1/2 marathon in 4 weeks.

Tip #7:  DO NOT fool yourself into running a half marathon when you have not trained properly for it.

Tip #8 and completely unrelated to running...the car commercial that plays the Eminem 8 Mile song makes me happy.  I do like Eminem (secret confession....not so secret now that it is on the internet).

Happy Running!!

Daddy/Nic

I have a few misc. things to share on this lovely, lovely, lovely, Sunday summer eve...

All, of course, relating to Nicolas.

No, that's a lie - the first thing has nothing to do with him.  It's just that I had a great day with Eleanor.  We had some errands to run, after determining that, while she has a lot of clothes, she needed more t-shirts.  We ran to Target, Old Navy, McDonald's, Children's Place, GAP, Gymboree and New York and Co.  We ended our escapade at the splash pad at Bayshore.  If I wasn't so lazy, I'd upload the pictures - She was just hilarious!  She fell asleep on the way home and I was left to go through all of our new purchases by myself...bliss...She's just a little person and I LOVE to hang out with her. 

So...the other stories...

This weekend I saw a very gorgeous man pushing a very little baby.  I totally did a double take.  And do you want to know what I was thinking? 

That was Nic.

I'm pathetic.  I see a gorgeous man and the first thing I think of is my husband. 

But seriously.  That was Nic.  He was that hot dad, so involved with his child.  So in love with his child.  He would think NOTHING of just packing her up in the stroller and going for walks.  Usually they had a destination...the library, the park.  Who knows.  Nicolas loved that little girl.  He was that hot dad, walking down the street, pushing a stroller, causing girls to double take.  Damn I was lucky.

Next.

Eleanor has been talking about Nic A LOT lately. 

A LOT.  More than she ever has. 

To the point where I was starting to get a little anxious.  She keeps saying daddy is at a dance party.  I don't know what that means.  I don't know where she heard it.  But I felt suddenly compeled to tell her the truth. 

I told her that daddy had died, he went to heaven and he couldn't come back.  I said that daddy loved us very much and we could talk to daddy all the time; however, he wasn't coming back.  She looked at me like I was crazy.   A look I have grown to know well. And said, Daddy's right there.  She pointed at her quilt.  And there.  She pointed at the other pictures on her quilt.  And in there.  And pointed to my room.  I was now crying pretty hard.  Who am I to tell my daughter that her father isn't coming back?  This works for her.  Whatever "this" is.  It works.

Enter today.  She woke up and I went into her bedroom to get her.  Same routine as it's been for months.  As I was changing her diaper, she told me I needed to be quiet because daddy was still sleeping.  I brushed it off and talked about how daddy always liked sleeping.  He was brought up a few more times - like on the phone with her cousin - she told Collin that daddy was sleeping. 

We went in my room to strip the bed.  She was shocked!  Daddy up now?  She asked.  Crap.

Let's go get daddy.  Where daddy go?

Crap.  What happened to the dance party?

Daddy died, Eleanor.  He's not coming back.  He's in heaven.  He loves us very very much.  Daddy loves us.  That's the only thing I need her to get out of this.  He didn't leave us by choice.  He didn't leave because he didn't like us. 

I want Daddy to come home now. 

I want him to come home too...but he can't, Eleanor.

Please, Momma.  Daddy come home now.  Let's go get him. 

I know, Eleanor.  I love Daddy too.  I miss Daddy too.  But we can't get him. 

Come on, Momma.  Play lovies (her pink blankets with the bear head).

And just like that it was over.  It was exhausting.  But it was over.  Does she get it?  No. 
Is it time for me to start with a new approach?  Maybe.  But I don't know what that is. 

It's such a fine line.  I don't want to talk about him too much.  And I don't want him to be forgotten.  But I swear to gosh...I'd rather be talking about the birds and the bees to my teenage daughter, than talking about why Daddy died and can't come back to my 2 year old!

What the heck do I do now?

See ya 2011

I don't care what plans you have for the rest of the year.  I officially declare 2011 OVER and am ready to move on to 2012.

2011 has been, and most likely will be, the worst year of my life.

I don't think I have to remind you how I started out this year.

Then I had an infected tooth that needed to be pulled.

I became horribly ill and spent months being sick and weeks with no voice.

And now...drum roll...I'm having some sort of fabulous allergic reaction to my medication!

I'm sure you want to hear that I am itchy, red and blotchy.  I'm miserable and crabby.  And sweet moses, am I itchy!!

I'm sitting on my couch, feeling the Benadryl kicking in.  That is...I'm becoming deliriously sleepy, but...wait for it...STILL ITCHY!

I quit.

Forget you 2011...Baby E and I are going to 2012.