Can't Buy Me Love

Recently I had to search through my wife's belongings for something important. This was not the first time and it probably will not be the last. Going through her purse, her closet, her private things can be emotional to say the least. However, the more I do it the more I have learned to compartmentalize the feelings, the flood of emotions that are associated with her earthly possessions. In the first few months of her passing I have rummaged through her things and even done a complete search. I wasn't looking for anything. Just something. Something that would evoke a good memory. I found old cards and letters I had given her and felt that love swell in my heart over the thought that she felt in love with me enough at the time to save those cards, letters, poems, or songs. 

Over the last few months I have pulled out our wedding album and looked through the pictures of these kids as they began their journey together. I opened the photo albums where we had placed all of the pictures we had of our daughter after she passed away. So many memories. I have found a place on the floor of my wife's closet and organized her bountiful collection of shoes. Through tears I placed each pair neatly in a box and stacked the boxes up. It was like playing a live version of Tetris but I finally managed to make a short wall of shoe boxes. I have washed and hung all of her clothes in that same closet and run my fingers over the fabric as if I could, in some small way, stir up the dust of memories from the last time she wore that particular dress, shirt, or pair of pants. I have pulled out each ring, necklace, bracelet or set of earrings and imagined them as they rested against her silky smooth skin. I have purposely stayed away from the lingerie drawer because some memories need no help. But nothing prepared me for the treasure I found this particular night. 

One of the more difficult things that I was forced to do in the first weeks following her passing was to cancel a cruise my wife and I were to take this past November. Every year we saved up money to get out of town on either our daughter's birthday or for Christmas. This time it was for her birthday. It was a ship we had not been on and it was for a longer period of time than we usually would book. We budgeted all year long for these cruises so that we would not have to be paying for our cruise long after the ship had docked. We didn't have a lot of money but we (that really should read, SHE) did a good job of setting money aside and prepaying for just about everything. When I called and cancelled the cruise I broke down twice while telling the story to the woman on the other end of the phone line. I made this call while in my office and then promptly went home for the day. (It pays to own your own business where you can occasionally work from home!) I was ruined. We had talked of this cruise just days before she went in the hospital. We had looked forward to the break in the mundanity of the work schedules we both had and to relaxing in the sun. 

Fast forward to last week. I began a search for a card I knew she kept in her wallet. I went to her purse and pulled everything out of it again. No card. I looked through a travel portfolio we each had and didn't find it there. I looked through the shelves and the various storage places she had but it was nowhere to be found. Then I found a wallet that she had placed on a back shelf. I recognized this wallet as our cruise wallet. I was sure the card wasn't there but pulled it out anyway. The only thing in the card section was a stack of my personal business cards. I knew this to be our cruise wallet because she would stash cash in it to save for our trips. And, as a surprise, I would sneak in there and add some to it so we would have more spending money than she expected. Just before I put the wallet up I slid my fingers into the back section in case she had chosen to store the card I was searching for there. There was no card. Instead I found cash. Cold. Hard. Cash. And not just a little either. She had already saved over half of the money she had expected we would need for the trip. I had discovered a hidden treasure. Cash that would pay for a future trip. Only, there would be no future trip. 

Most people get excited when they find money laying around. It had the opposite effect on me. There was enough money here for me to take another weekend trip away. There was money enough to buy me a piece of furniture I had been looking for. There was cash in my hand that would let me landscape the yard. There were enough bills to buy me anything I had thought about saving up for these last few months. There was only one thing that I couldn't buy with that money. I couldn't buy any more time with my wife or my daughter. The Beatles told us that money can't buy you love and they were right. (But, no, you can't have it!)

If you have been reading my blog for awhile then this next statement is something you have heard from me before and you will hear it again. If you are a first time visitor to my blog, welcome, and listen if you will to just a little advice. There are some things money cannot buy. We know that better than knowing that 15 minutes can save you on you car insurance. But sometimes it bears repeating. Don't waste your time on things that don't matter. Family matters. Let them know before you are forced to face the misfortune I have had to face. Look each person in your family in the eye and let them know how much you love them. And then tell them why you love them. Don't let that chance pass you by. Please. PLEASE. 

Valentine's Day and Butterfly Kisses

This weekend brings with it mixed emotions. It's a weekend filled with love, joy, romance. And for the last 27 years I look forward to this weekend. This time I still look forward to this weekend but for another reason. While many people are celebrating their love, I get to celebrate the love one young man has for a beautiful young lady as they say their vows. For the rest of their lives Valentine's Day will have a greater significance than ever before. And I am proud to witness the union of these two souls. 

Today I harkened back to a time when I thought my talents lay elsewhere. It was Father's Day, 1996. I shared the song "Butterfly Kisses" with the congregation of the church I was attending. It'd just been released and I remember the impact it had on me the first time I heard it. I took my daughter by the hand and walked with her up on stage. I pulled a stool over and let her sit next to me as I tried to sing the song. I was never blessed with the greatest voice, and singing around the huge lump in my throat probably made it sound like frog kisses rather than butterfly kisses. I was told that during the entire song my daughter sat there with a smile on her face looking lovingly at her father. That was the last song I ever performed in church. I began to develop the talents that God had given me and those skills did not lie in singing but rather in writing and drama. I have in my head dozens of unwritten and unperformed dramas and one of those dramas is built around the song "Butterfly Kisses." However I never had the chance to perform the drama because my daughter was supposed to play a part in it.

The last verse in the song "Butterfly Kisses" refers to the moment that the father gets to walk his daughter down the aisle to the man that will take her and make her a bride. Hard as I try, there are some things that I cannot avoid focusing on. Those things that I will never have that I try to run from. One of those is the opportunity to walk my daughter down that aisle. So this blog goes out to all the daddies of those precious little girls. Especially to those daddy's that have done things to damage the relationship with their daughters. It's never too late to restore that relationship. It is my desire to see you, daddy, walking your daughter down the aisle. This is definitely one thing you should never take for granted.

This weekend you will have the opportunity to look into the eyes of your little loved one and let her know, daddy, how much you love her. Valentine's Day is a day of celebration. A celebration of love. And I believe it's not just romantic love. So, daddy, don't forget to take the opportunity to take your daughter out on a date. You never know when that chance will be taken away from you. And this is one regret you do not want to have.

Valentine's Day this year will not be happy celebration for me. But I will still be celebrating. I will be celebrating for you. I will be celebrating your love. I will be celebrating with my young friends as they place that symbol of love in their fingers. And it will be a joyous celebration. 

And for all those that are missing their love on this day, be it a spouse, or a child, please know that love is not over. Where there was a romantic love there can be a love that our Father can give us. For we are His bride and He loves us forever. Unconditionally. So, if you, like me, find yourself missing someone a little more this Valentine's Day just remember one thing. And, if you happen to see me you might want to remind me of this also.  Love. Never. Fails. 

And happy Valentine's Day to the most precious gifts the Lord could've blessed me with, even if it was only for a short time. I love you both. Save a place for me. 

Here I Am, Dealing With a those Memories Again

Sometimes it's good to go back throughout a journal, blog, or your Facebook posts to remind yourself of the advice you so freely give. And sometimes you don't need to as it jumps in front of you. Case in point: I have to remind myself to live in the moment and be thankful for what I have rather than think in the future to what I won't have. I also have to remind myself that it's okay to visit the past just as long as I don't dwell there. 

This weekend made the latter of those two statements a bit difficult as I watch the calendar turn over for the eighth time since my daughter passed away. While I took some time away to get my mind off of things, the thought of the anniversary was ever present and I had to forcibly tell myself to think on other things. If you haven't been through the loss of a child you can still relate. When is the last time you ate more than you should because you couldn't resist the Oreos and a cold glass of milk? Were you a smoker trying to quit? How easy was it to walk away and not feel the longing for what you once had? If you have faced the extremes of an addiction I can only imagine it to be even worse. No matter how hard you try not to think of those things there is a part of your mind that refuses to let go. And that tug of war can be exhausting. 

But, when you face the drastic losses I've faced you can't force your thoughts too far forward or you'll find yourself in the future and it can be equally dismal. Let me give you an example of the mental gymnastics those who have experienced loss go through. Especially if they are in my shoes. 

I miss my child. My child is not with me. My one constant through the first seven and a half years through the grieving process was my wife. I miss my wife. My wife is not with me. There is no one there to truly hold my grief in check. Everywhere I look I expect to see them. Everywhere I look I cannot find them. Instead I find reminders. So, why not get away from the reminders? I'll go to the beach. They both enjoyed the beach so I better go somewhere I haven't been before with them. 

But I don't want to be totally alone because that only makes it worse. I'll invite a friend. My friend and I will enjoy one another's company and it will be a great distraction from loss. But everywhere I look I see memories of my family even though they aren't there and have never been there. And then the dreaded thing happens. It's about time to go home. That's it. That's the dreaded thing. I know, I know. We all hate to come home from vacation. But I get to come home to an empty house when I leave. And I don't want to leave. So I delay getting home by scheduling a meeting with one sweet new friend for breakfast and another for lunch. But then I have to get home eventually. And then I'll be all alone again. And, darn it, I've missed church so I won't get all my hugs. 

And there you have it. All of this before I've even packed up my toothbrush. 

But my breakfast company was wonderful and seeing one of my daughter's friends and her son at lunch made the extra 5 pounds from this weekend worth it. And, although they weren't at my house, I did have two little girls waiting for me to come tuck them in at their house as Uncle Kevin resumed his Sunday night visits. 

And then the roller coaster drops again as I miss having someone to tuck in at night. I miss when she would tuck me in occasionally. I miss having someone to hold in my own bed at night. Then I have to face the realization again that I will never get to tuck in my grandkids because I'll never have any. And now I've come full circle. I've begun to dwell on what I don't and won't have rather than the fact that two little girls are waiting for Uncle Kevin to come play pretend school with them and then take them and tuck them in. 

And that is where my focus must lie. I am so blessed. I had a beautiful woman actually agree to have breakfast with me. I had an incredible young lady and her handsome little boy truly want to have lunch with this old man. I had a mother and father looking forward to my visit and I had two little girls lean in for a kiss goodnight as I pulled the covers up just under their chins. How much greater can my life be right now? This is where I am and this is what I choose to make of it. And although the tears of what will never be may have me standing outside a house trying to collect myself, the joy of what is to come will have me marching up the steps and scooping up some precious joy. 

Oh What a Beautiful Mourning (see what I did there?)

If you've ever lost a loved one then you know there are days that are tougher than others. Some are explainable such as holidays and birthdays and some are just what a friend of mine called "blue days." In many cases I would rather face the special days than the blue days because you are prepared. As a matter of fact, the preparation for those days are often worse than the actual days themselves. That's why, sometimes, the second year is worse than the first because you think, "I've been through this before. I've got this." But then the day hits you and, because you didn't spread the pain out over several days, it becomes a huge load. Then there are days that you know will be bad and no amount of preparation is enough. 

If you've ever lost a loved one then you understand. But if you've lost a loved one and then lose the one who shared your grief... This is tough. The emotions flood over you and the one person that you had to hold and cry with is no longer there. You want to scream. You want to kick, hit, scratch. Angry Me shows up and he ain't leaving for awhile. Prayer helps. Both mine and those praying for me (thank you). But prayer doesn't hold you in tangible arms. Prayer doesn't kiss the tears away. Prayer doesn't snuggle up and fall asleep in your arms. So, what do I do? I pray. I pray because it's all I have left. 

This evening I wanted desperately to not attend my church small group. Angry Me wanted to be halfway through a bottle searching for the worm. But I couldn't. God only knows why, but I had volunteered to help pick up one of my little ones and bring him home while his mom prepared for a bunch of adults seeking The Case for Christ. God only knows why, but I invited friends to join us and I couldn't very well not be there when they showed up. Well, maybe God isn't the only one to know. Tonight I got to hold a little one for much of the evening. I got hugs from a dozen friends that wanted to make my pain all go away. And, while it didn't go away, it at least dropped to a dull throb. 

Tonight I'm hoping the sandman finds me early. I'm hoping that the morning sun will help me rise and get my chores done. I'm hoping that my trip to the cemetery, and to another special place to honor my daughter who has not been by my side for 8 years, will not overwhelm me. I'm praying that my getaway to see her friends and mine will be just what I need. And I'm praying that a good time will be had by all. 

Please don't misunderstand me. I know that others will also mourn the day tomorrow. My daughter left an incredible legacy for one so young. Her friends have already begun to contact me. So have my friends. And my wife's friends. And I love them all and appreciate that they still remember the significance of February 5th. And the friends who will be occupying my long weekend, both new and old, will be doing so because they recognize the pain and share in it. And I know my in-laws and my family will also be mourning the loss of their grand-daughter, niece, and cousin. And their grief adds to mine, as mine does to theirs, as we all wish we didn't have to remember February 5th as having any significance. 

The pain will be greater this time during my day. I know it will. I've accepted it. My wife, while we were going through struggles that married couples face told me that she never wanted to be separated from me because I was the only one that would know the significance of February 5th held in her heart. That no one would ever appreciate the struggle she went through the way I would. Well, now it's my turn. I get to face the struggle without her by my side and it does threaten to overwhelm me. I don't know how I'm going to do it but I am going bring flowers to my beautiful little girl alone. And, while my wife won't be there I know that the prayers of my friends and my family will be. And I know, thanks to them, Angry Me will stay at home this time. 

Dream weaver

I finally did it. Last night I spent part of the evening with the woman of my dreams. It was unbelievable! It was what I had hoped for and I pray that I'll get to see her again. We have been together before but last night was extra special. As we lay together I looked into her beautiful eyes. I said something that made her laugh and then I wrapped my arms around her and we rolled over together. A little too far as we fell to the floor. We both laughed and then she got up and made her way into the bathroom. She stood at the sink and was looking into the mirror. I could only hope that she was seeing the perfection I saw. Then it happened. This mixture of emotions came over me and I began to weep. She turned and looked at me with concern and asked me what was wrong. I told her that THIS as wrong. This wasn't supposed to be happening. That I knew I was dreaming and I was scared I was going to wake up. She stepped toward me. She was wearing a pair of white flannel pajama pants with lavender flowers on them and a blue t-shirt. She looked so beautiful. She put her hand to my face as I unsuccessfully tried to fight back the flow of tears. She told me that I wasn't dreaming. That this was real. I reached out to pull her to me and hold her in my arms. 

She lied. It was a dream. A very vivid dream. My wife had come to me in my sleep and, for a few short seconds all was right in my world. I begged myself to stay asleep forever. To never wake up from this dream. Even if we suddenly found ourselves feeding rocky road ice cream to polar bears in Alaska while our jet packs cooled behind us under the watchful eye of Arnold Schwarzenegger. Or we were tunneling under the Leaf River trying to escape the zombies. It didn't matter what weird dream I had, just as long as my wife was in it. 

I feel for my friends who have lost loved ones and never get these special visitations. I would certainly have them, even if they only last seven seconds. But the impact of these dreams leave me gasping for air all during the next day. I want more than anything to go back to sleep and dream of her again. But who can predict when these dreams come? I even try drinking the same drinks and eating the same foods to see if I can revisit the dreamland that she resides in. Instead I find myself playing cards with John Goodman and smoking crayons. 

A part of me wants to believe that these visitations are a glimpse of another reality. One in which my wife and daughter are still with me. That we are still one happy family. I wish to be able to switch places with the me that resides in that reality so I can be with them again. 

Instead I find myself with my head on a tear soaked pillow with no one's head on the pillow beside me. I again reach my foot over for the reassuring presence of another only to find more emptiness. I bury my head to the echo of screams of unfairness in the room and try to force myself to sleep. But the silence of the room is deafening. 

Tonight I will sleep in hopes of dreaming of this beautiful woman again. And perhaps our daughter will join us. Together we can be a happy family again. If only in my dreams. 

However, you, my dear friend, you have a chance to make your own dreams come true. You have a chance to remember why you fell in love in the first place and let your loved one know it. You have the chance to pull her into your arms, apologize for not letting her know enough how much you love and appreciate her. You have the chance to hold her, to kiss her, to compliment her, to reach your foot over and find her next to you. You have a chance to be that alternate reality that another you longs for.  

Don't let that chance pass you by.