I'm Gonna Love You Forever

Two rights don't make a wrong. That recently invented phrase of mine has been bouncing around my brain for about a week now. I knew it had to be the title of a blog post but I wasn't sure how to put it. What was the blog supposed to be about exactly? Where was my focus and, more importantly, what is it that I want you, my favorite reader, to take from a such a post? I don't write my blog solely for me (although at times it sure feels like it). So if I am to subject you to another of my musings what thought is it that I want you to ponder upon completion of this tome?

Anyone who has known me these past few years or more knows how much I love my Wanda and My Beth. And, yes, I did use the present tense of the word rather than the past. I will always love my family. They were so right for me. A perfect fit. Well, it became a perfect fit after we whittled away a few rough edges. Mine more than theirs. Then came the days when all that was right went wrong. I had my Mrs. Right and we had our perfect daughter. So when I lost them I lost all that was right in my world. 

And then came my new forever. 

I have again been blessed with a Mrs. Right. Well, a soon to be Mrs. Right. And she is blessing me with the opportunity to have two children to call family. So I have been doubly blessed in regards to daughters, or step-daughters if you must. I'm thankful that the girls have a father that still cares for them and I'm very thankful he feels comfortable with my being their step-father. These beautiful girls are the pretty ribbon on this incredible package the Lord has chosen to send me again.  

How is it that you know when you've found the one again? I cannot speak for you. I knew it quickly. But I also remember the night that I turned the corner. While I know that I will forever love my first love, an event that occurred the other evening let me know that my heart will never be the same. You see, I have professed my love to my new forever. I have asked her to marry me and received the response I was hoping for. But I think there was a little concern that she would be compared to the first Mrs. Right. And the other night I guess I did. But in a good way. 

When you lose someone you love it is like a part of you has been amputated. You reach for the limb that once was there only to be reminded that it isn't. And you still feel the ghosts pains of what was once there. But I have to believe (but I haven't asked so I don't know for sure) that there has to be a time when a prosthetic limb becomes so natural that you don't long for what was but focus instead on what is. And you find that you function quite well with the prosthesis. It has become a part of you. 

For almost two years I would climb in my bed and, out of habit, reach my foot over to find my first love. At times, and I remember this very vividly, my arms would literally ache to be holding her. Earlier this week I climbed in bed and felt that same ache. But this time was different. This time they ached to be holding the new forever. And, although we have yet to spend that night together where that feeling can become a reality, we are getting so much closer. 

My new forever no longer feels like a prosthesis. I can't say she ever really did. She brings me the joy that God gave her to bring me. She lights up my world in completely different ways. She has shown me a future that is full of opportunity. She has become someone to share in my faith and to serve with. I have learned so much from her and look forward to seeing what we can get accomplished together. 

But I have determined that she is no longer my new forever. Instead she will just be my forever. And I like that. 

The Leader of the Band

Sometimes we can find things to keep us from our grief. And sometimes those can be good things. And sometimes they can be not so good things. This week I experienced a lot of the latter. 

Last Monday found me planning a trip to the hospital to check up on my brother who had to spend a few days there due to surgery. This followed a trip earlier in the month to see him in the same hospital as the doctors diagnosed what was going on with him and the steps needed to remedy the problem. So, in other words, I've been to the hospital twice this month. Fortunately it was not THE hospital. I still can't do that. But it was a hospital nonetheless. The same whirs, buzzes, beeps, smells, and sights exist in every hospital. Whirs, buzzes, beeps, smells, and sights that I'm all too familiar with as I sat by Wanda's bedside the last five days of her life here on earth. But, when its family, you do what you have to do. And I love my brother very much and needed to see him even if he didn't need to see me. 

During this last visit we had a few minutes alone and I sat and watched him sleep. The quiet and stillness in the room worked their magic on me as well and I nodded off for a couple of minutes myself. That's all it took for us to have a couple more visitors as my wife and my daughter walked in the room hand-in-hand. Wanda was wearing dark blue scrubs and Beth was probably about nine or ten years old. They walked right in the door and smiled at me and then at Uncle Paul. And then I woke up. But that picture is seared in my mind. 

The nurse came in a few minutes later to check on him so I stepped out of the room. I hated to see my brother in pain and I knew there was about to be a little pain as she cleaned his surgical incisions. I stood in the hallway trying to grasp what I had just seen in my mind's eye. My wife and daughter had to come check up on Uncle Paul. I have had a number of dreams about Wanda the last five months but this was the first I could remember of both of them together. 

When my parents walked up a few minutes later I was standing in the hallway. I couldn't tell them about the dream. As a matter of fact, they are finding out about it probably through this blog. I couldn't tell them because I knew what it was like to sit and watch your child in a hospital. And the last thing I needed to do was to start the waterworks. And this time at the hospital was not about me and my loss. It was about my brother and the focus needed to remain on him. But I did send him a text to tell him that Wanda and Beth came to see him. 

If I had not been there I wouldn't have seen my family. I doubt I would have had the same dream in the comfort of my own home. I think sometimes God puts us in places where we are going to be uncomfortable. He tests us to see if we are willing to put our own needs aside and still value others better than ourselves. (Philippians 2:3) In the midst of this uncomfortable time God can give us peace and reward us for our faithfulness. God gave me a gift that day. And I didn't mind sharing that gift with my brother. Not at all. 

Hey baby, I'm your handy man

I wish that seven years ago I had come to the understanding that I have today. As I have mentioned in previous blog posts, I now believe that anything or anyone I put in my life is not a replacement for Beth or Wanda. Although they took a part of my heart with them when they were taken from me, they are not irreplaceable. Now, before you get up in arms about that last statement, please hear me out. I believe that both Beth and Wanda have already been replaced. They were not replaced by another person, another activity, work or anything tangible. The minute they left me they were already replaced. By grief. Every bit of their existence now is relegated to history. But as they were once totally woven into the fabric of my life, now grief is there in their stead. 

After losing Beth I never looked for a replacement. Sure, "Uncle" Kevin has a lot of little ones that I get to love on and spend time with. But they did not replace Beth. Beth is no longer with me. Instead I have grief. And over the last seven years I have slowly been replacing that grief. And I have replaced that grief with children of all ages. That point was driven home today when I was reminded what it was like to be a father. A young friend of mine lost her father at an early age. When she goes through trials in her life I am pleased that she looks to me as a father figure. And I get to see her as a surrogate daughter. She did not replace Beth. She replaced part of the grief. Today, as I held her and tried my best to comfort her, I remembered what it was like to hold Beth and comfort her when her young heart was hurting. Lately the focus of my grief has been for the loss of my wife. Today my focus was turned back to my daughter for awhile. Today I got to be a dad for awhile. And, like a dad, I got to lend a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on, and perhaps even some words of comfort. And, like when I was a dad, I don't know if I said or did anything to make it better. But I was there for her. And, it turns out, she was there for me.

After losing Wanda I haven't looked for a replacement. There is no way I can replace her. But I can replace the grief. I'm trying to be very cautious in what I replace grief with because sometimes, when Angry Me shows up, I don't care what I replace it with, just so long as it gets replaced. But I'm getting better at keeping Angry Me locked away when it comes to important decisions. I think I'm just saving him for the golf course. Or for when I watch the Saints play. 

If you are experiencing loss and you worry that you're looking to replace what is lost, you can't. It's already been done. What it is time to focus on now is what we will choose to replace the grief. Choose wisely because the last thing we want to do now is replace grief with something doesn't fit. 

Waiting for a girl like you

People ask me why I write. Why I share. Why I place my emotions out there for all to see. The only answer I have is because it is what I am meant to do. I don't know any other reason than to say that I am compelled by God to do so. But why would God want me to write and share? Why would God want my wife and daughter with Him and me here alone? I don't know the answer to either. But I can venture a guess at the first one. 

When we lost our only child we thought we were going crazy. We had this whole jumble of emotions and we just knew those emotions were exclusive to us. When we began to read books dealing with loss we began to understand that the thoughts, emotions, and ideas were not ours alone. Many others who had travelled similar paths had experienced similar emotions. So my guess is that God wants me to share so that others who embark on this journey can also feel like they are not alone. And this is why I share what I feel will provide guidance and instruction. 

But then there are days I just share raw emotion. And maybe sometimes those blog posts are meant just for me. Perhaps they are just there as mile markers on this campaign so that I can look back and see how far I've come. Today may just be one of those days. 

I don't know whether I am trying to fool myself but I feel like this is all one big test. If I pass this test then Wanda will walk back in the door and jump in my arms. It feels so real and I long for the test to be over and for me to get that reward. I keep the house relatively clean. I take my medicine and vitamins like a good boy. I tithe and give of my resources and time. I do all the things that I did before plus the things that Wanda did so that when she does walk in the door she will have nothing to do other than wrap her arms around me and hold me. 

Then it hits, runs over me, and leaves me as roadkill. She isn't coming back. She's never coming back. She can't come back. This isn't a dream. This isn't temporary. This is permanent. The happiness I had with her is now history. It is only to be relieved in my memories. The thirty-two pillows that she placed on our bed (I exaggerate - but only slightly) get piled onto her side as I sleep so I can pretend there is someone there. I call the house phone just so I can hear her voice on the answering machine. I look through her notes from work that I could never understand but allow me to imagine her in the strokes of her pen. I pretend that the lipstick post-it note kiss is fresh and not stained by tears. I pretend the only way I know how but at the end of the day I am left to hear only the grinding of the gears of my thoughts as they try to keep fresh memories that fade every day just a little more. 

Yes, this post may just be for me. And perhaps sharing raw emotion isn't the best idea. But then again, perhaps people need to realize that I am human. And at moments like these I feel more human than ever. 

The Winner Takes It All

Isn't it amazing how certain events put things in perspective? For instance, I am writing this after watching the hometown team get humiliated by a team that is not that good. I have expectations for my team just as they do. My expectation is that they will win. Every time. From now on. I realize that those expectations are quite lofty, but aren't they the same expectations they put on themselves? 

Several years ago I attended a football game with my daughter. This was time together that we both enjoyed. She was not a great football fan, she was just a daddy fan and she enjoyed spending time with me as I did with her. This particular game also ended in a loss and I took the loss hard. It was a team we should've beaten. But, on the way out of the stadium my daughter took my hand and I realized I had been taking something for granted. Earlier that week a friend had lost her newborn child. As I walked away from the game I couldn't help but hear the Lord tell me, "It's just a game. Look at the hand you are holding. You still have your daughter." And I realized how silly it was for me to get worked up over a game. Up until that very moment my priorities had been misaligned. It all changed for me that day as I walked back to my car with tears in my eyes and my daughter's hand in mine. 

Fast forward a few years and I find myself walking to my truck from the same stadium after a loss. But this time the loss, while not enjoyable, was not devastating. Why? Because I know devastation when I see it. Now I don't get to walk back to the truck with my daughter's hand in mine. Nor do I get a hug from my wife. Instead I walk back with my brother beside me (but not holding my hand because that would just be too weird) and let the loss roll off my back. 

Some things don't go our way. And sometimes there isn't a darn thing we can do about it. My wife was always the neat one. She kept the house virtually spotless. I am no slob, but I also am not as particular as she was. But some things bother me. Like light switches for example. When a switch is up the light is on. When it is down the light is off. But when there is a three-way switch then if both the switches are in the same position then the light is off. If they are in opposite positions the light is on. But when they are both up and the light is off then my universe is off tilt. I don't know why I am this way. (Probably the way I am wired!) for this reason I will go across the room to flip the switch so it's in the correct position according to the status of the light. And when there is a row of switches and I am leaving the room then all the switches must be in the down position. One switch out of sequence throws OCD into overload. But, in my kitchen I have three switches controlling the light. This means that one switch must always be up and the other two down for the light to be off... Perhaps you should read that last line again. ONE OF THE SWITCHES MUST BE UP.  Up means on. Down means off. But, there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I have to learn to live with it. I have to learn that not everything is going to go my way. And I've learned the lesson the hard way. 

I don't get to go home from ball games with my daughter. I don't get to come home to my wife in the evening and get a hug. And you know what, it really hurts. But there isn't a darn thing I can do about it. Life just isn't fair sometimes. And, if you find yourself upset over your team's loss, the fact that your pizza took longer than 30 minutes, or that the store is out of what you went there to get, thank the Lord for the blessings you do have and remember, a late pizza isn't life and death. 

Angry Me

Psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross introduced us in 1969 to the Five Stages of Grief. They are, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. And she expressed them in that order. Several weeks ago an uncle of mine told me that he saw, during a three day stay with him, that I had expressed a lot of emotions but one thing he had not seen was anger. And he was right. He had not seen anger. Not that anger wasn't there, he just had not witnessed it. Now I'm sure that Dr. Kübler-Ross had her reasons for the order she selected and I am not psychiatrist, but I am not following the prescribed order. I had been upset but I never really went through a stage of anger and I've already gone through the acceptance stage. But lately the anger has been welling up in me and I realized something. I don't like it.

If you've been on this earth as long as I have you may remember the old TV show, The Incredible Hulk. Bill Bixby's character would look at people and say, "Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." Well, that is me. I do not like Angry Me. You wouldn't like Angry Me either. Angry Me is not nice. Angry Me is a selfish SOB. He starts thinking of his own needs before others. He is known to scream, "That's not fair!" He takes the anger out on others in a variety of ways. He uses people for what they can do for him, rather than thinking of what he can do for them. 

Angry Me is starting to rear his ugly head. There is only one thing uglier than Sobbing Me and that is Angry Me when he is sobbing. Angry Me believes that every bad thing is the fault of someone else rather than himself. Angry Me has not really shown his ugly head in over a quarter of a century. Because he had someone to take all of the tension away. Someone who loved him in spite of his temper. Someone who was surprised and pleased when Angry Me started coming around less and less. That someone is no longer here to keep Angry Me at bay. And I pity the fool that is around when Angry Me really shows out.  

I am doing the best I can to keep Angry Me from showing up, but sometimes, just like Bruce Banner, sometimes the big guy can't be held back any longer. Many of you have missed my beloved like I have. You may start to miss her more when Angry Me comes around with no one to calm him down. 

No, I don't like Angry Me. I like putting other people first. I don't like to be looked at as a user who doesn't care for other's feelings. I am praying that God can help me keep Angry Me from showing up or keep you out of his path when he does. I don't like apologizing in advance. Apologizing in advance means that I know I'm going to hurt someone and I don't care. That's not me. That's Angry Me. But it's where I am right now so I am asking forgiveness. I'll do my best and please know that Angry Me is no respecter of persons, but I am. And, just like the Hulk, I may need someone to talk me down. To talk some sense into me. To bravely face Angry Me and look deep inside for Real Me. He has to be in there somewhere.