I've had enough!

Sometimes i am weak and need help. Other times I can toss down my crutches and run relatively carefree. The latter of those times has become fewer and fewer the longer I live. I long for the days when I can run, laugh, and jump for joy. Where I can laugh at what life brings. The more I focus on my future with my King and my girls the better. But some days that isn't enough. In fact, some days it's never enough and that overwhelms me. Today was one of those days. So rather than regale you with a wonderful story or tips on how to overcome I just want you to see that we all struggle some times. But there is joy in knowing what waits for us on the other side. 

I wish I had been enough.

Enough to have handled all that life threw at you. 

Enough to have held you above the rising tides. 

Enough to protect you from the harshness of being. 

I wish I had been enough. 

Enough to help you through the loss

Enough to remove all the pain and tears. 

Enough to bring you the joy.

I wish I had been enough.

Enough smiles in times of trouble.

Enough strength to carry us both.

Enough faith to bring you your miracle.

I wish I had been enough.

Enough reason to fight.

Enough reason to live.

Enough reason to stay.

I wish I could be enough.

Strong enough to fight alone.

Brave enough to live for you.

Bold enough to live for Him.

I am not enough.

Enough of a man to keep from crying.

Enough of a man to keep on trying.

Enough of a man to keep on fighting.

I want to be enough.

Enough to bring joy.

Enough to stand strong against the tides.

Enough for someone to love. 

I'll never be enough. 

Enough on my own.

Enough to save myself.

Enough without Him.

He is my enough.

Enough strength to bring strength to my weakness.

Enough grace to wash over my sins.

Enough love to help me...

Be enough. 

Ain't no grave

I took a few minutes out of my day today to speak with a friend. Of course the conversation is going to turn toward either the loss of my daughter or the loss of my wife. It always does. And that's okay. My friend mentioned that she had another friend who had lost a child. Once she did, people were afraid to mention that child's name around her. They treated her as if that child never existed. Now, which do you imagine hurts more, the moment someone mentions your loss or the moment that they ignore your loss? In an attempt not to upset the apple cart you've allowed the apples to rot where they lay. 

Over the last ten months I have found myself at the funerals of three other people. Three others who have left a loving spouse to pick up the proverbial pieces. And I'll tell you, during those funerals it is quite difficult not to get selfish. The pain of loss rushes back and you wish someone were there to help ease your pain. This is especially hard when you have suffered two shattering losses. It is never more obvious that the love of your life is not standing beside you when you need her there to help lift you up. At the most recent funeral the widower looked at me and said, "This ain't your first rodeo is it?" Up to that point I was managing my emotions fairly well. But then the simple reminder of my own loss flooded me with those feelings again. And, knowing what this man was about to face made me hurt all the more. 

Shortly after this most recent memorial service someone came up to me and recognized how tough it must have been for me to be there. I thought about a dear friend of mine who I know loves me very much but couldn't come up to the hospital during the five nights my wife was there. And I fully understand her reasoning since I have hardly been able to come to the hospital myself even for something as joyous as a friend giving birth. With this in mind I began to ask myself why I bothered to come to the funeral. I can tell you that I hardly remember who was and wasn't there for the two I've had to be a part of over the last eight years. The only record I have is from the pages of the registry that so many signed. And it is amazing to me that, if you were to pull the pages out of each registry and compare, there are many of the same names in each. So, since my attendance would hardly be remembered, why do I bother?

I will tell you, I seldom go to a funeral or memorial service for the person who has passed. They aren't there. They have much better things to do, like pick out the drapes for their heavenly mansion. I go to a funeral for the ones who are left behind. Don't you? You come to pay your respects and to offer your condolences to the living. But why does that end at the funeral? Why is it that we are so scared to be around someone who is grieving? Is it because we are reminded of how precious and short life is? Is it because we can't find the words to say to fix it? Is it because we feel guilty because we still have our loved ones?

Regardless of the reasons, the person who is grieving doesn't care? Not to sound callous but the person who is grieving is most likely not focused on how you must feel. They are just working on turning moment by moment into day by day. I know I've blogged about this before but I believe it needs repeating. When you lose a loved one you lose more than one person that day. You also lose those who are scared to be around you for whichever reason it is. All you have left of your loved one are memories. And you want nothing more to add to those. You long for people to bring up the name of the loved one you lost. You want them to share a memory that they may not have. You desire to add more to your mental scrapbook. You are thrilled when someone else is thinking of your loved one too. 

One day this won't matter. One day we too will be involved in a heavenly interior design appointment while those we leave behind gather memories. When my day comes all I ask is that you share a memory or two (or 200) with whoever may remain to lay me to rest. Tell my nieces and nephews of our escapades on the softball fields. Tell my god-daughters about how great I was a playing pretend with your children too. Let my siblings know how much you will miss my hugs. Above all, let the world know that I am excited about my reunion with my wife and children and the other family I have in heaven and how they too should make the wonderful decision to join us in eternity with my Heavenly Father. 

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. 

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. 

Time heals all wounds?

Dear Time,

I am writing this letter to you to tell you that I am upset with the way you have been doing your job lately. Sometimes you don't give us enough hours in a day. And I can forgive you for that. Sometimes you are running out. But I understand that sometimes we all feel that way. I've noticed how you have not been kind to people. But I can even cut you a little slack there. However, what I can not tolerate for even one more minute is how poorly you are healing all wounds. 

You really should've come with a manual. A means of letting us know when you are up. I would appreciate it if you could give us all a guideline to follow. Maybe something set in stone. And I'm not sure who owns who so I don't know if I should even be complaining. People keep telling me that I will reach certain points in my own time. I have my very own time? Well, if you are mine I wish you would do what I need you to do. Make the good times last a long time. Longer than 15 or 26 years. Make the bad times last mere seconds. 

No, Time, you are not doing a good job at all. But it's almost like you have a government job that you know you can't be fired from. You think you are sweet when you are going slow, but you don't seem to understand that when someone is taking their own sweet time, they are not doing it rapidly. Perhaps I could trade my time in for someone else's. 

You've robbed from me for so long. You took away my younger years and exchanged them for what? For this? I'm supposed to be living the golden years but the price of gold has gotten too high for me. The only thing you have done is rob me of memories. I can hardly remember how my daughter's voice sounds. How long before you steal away the sound of my beloved? 

I think I've figured it out. I think this is my crime for wasting so much of you. If only I had listened to those older and wiser than me. Those with more experience with you. Perhaps I would have not wasted so much of you. Perhaps I would have made better use of you. I would have loved more. I would have lived more. I would have learned more. I would have shared more with others. Told more people not to waste you. Told more people to let others know how much they love their family, their friends, and even absolute strangers. 

I don't have much of you left. The grains of sand are running out. But I will use each one of them as wisely as I can so you do not get the best of me. I will love more. I will live more. I will grieve but I will allow more joy back into my life. I will not let you win. I will not let you slip away. I will make the most of you. 

Your servant turned master,

K