Chris worked 2nd shift.  That meant he was home mornings, and that time became his special time with Shane.

Luckily, I work just a few miles from home and I was able to go home everyday for lunch.  It was the only time during the week that Chris and I got to see one another, it was the only family time we had until the weekend.

I never wanted to be a working mom (still don’t).  And Chris knew how hard it was for me to be away from Shane during the day, and how hard it was for me to leave him again after lunch.

Chris was the one to drop Shane off at daycare on his way into work every afternoon, but to extend my time with Shane at lunch, Chris would always follow me back to work after our lunches together.  He would drive “my” car, and I would drive “his”; with Shane.  He would go out of his way, every single day, just to give me an extra 7 minutes with our son.

He was truly amazing, that husband of mine.  I still can’t believe he’s gone and I can’t believe the void in our life that exists because of his loss.

On the way to the “quiet park” yesterday Shane asked me, out of the blue, if “my Daddy has wings”.  Through tears, I told him “yes he does, buddy.  Daddy is our angel now”.

It’s obvious how much Shane thinks about Chris.  It’s obvious how much he misses him.  It’s obvious how very different, and very hard, our life is now.

Much, my love.  Much.

Poor Daddy. Easter 2007

I still wonder if we should’ve done something differently. If I should’ve done something differently. I still wonder if it would’ve made a difference.

If I had made him go to the ER the first time he complained about the pain in his side, would it have made a difference?
If I had forced him to go to the expert in NY, would it have made a difference?
If I had made a phonecall sooner, asked about a treatment option earlier, would it have made a difference?

If I held his hand more;
If I stayed up with him every night and talked him through the pain;
If we didn’t rush the 2nd embolization;
If I held him longer;
If I researched harder;
If I made myself not be afraid of what the outcome may or may not be;

Would it have made a difference?

I didn’t do everything I could’ve done. I didn’t make him do everything he could’ve done. If I pushed harder; if I tried harder; would it have made a difference?

What if there’s something I could’ve done differently; something that could’ve kept him here longer? What if Chris is gone because of something I did. Or worse, something I didn’t do? Would my husband still be here? Could Shane still have his dad? Would the future we dreamed of still lie ahead of us?

I feel so guilty about so many things. He trusted me. He relied on me to take care of him. And this week, this week I’m just feeling like I let him down. Like I let us all down.

Sometimes I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to cut it. Sometimes guilt is just a part of the grief. And the grief sucks.

Happy 30th Birthday, Uncle Jay!  Thank you SO much for all you do for us.  We are forever grateful.

Hope you had a fantastic weekend!  Looking forward to celebrating with you tonight.

Love you!!!

Shane’s Christening - July 2006

Coming home from vacation is always hard.  But it’s harder still when the reality you’re going back to includes a deceased husband.  Vacation is an escape.  It’s that way for everyone.  But it provided me with a bit of a reprieve from my sad and all to real life.  It was easy to pretend that it was just another day because I wasn’t surrounded by places, things or rooms that Chris should be living in or using.  It was easy to pretend that he was just gone, and not g.o.n.e. , because all of vacation is pretend.  Knowing my fairy tale was going to end was difficult and we sucked every moment we could out of that week.  That beach house is kind of like my safe haven.  It’s my place where my husband doesn’t have to be dead, where I don’t have to be a single parent and a widow.  I was surrounded by new places.  I was surrounded by family.  I was free from schedules or responsiblities.  We simply just did what we wanted to.  It was bliss.  I miss our beach house, and I’m glad we captured it for posterity.

Taken the morning we left:

One of the first things we did on the Cape was go on a Whale Watch; and honestly, I think it turned out to be one of the highlights of the week!

We woke up early on Monday morning to drive down to Provincetown; I wanted to leave from there because I knew it would be the only chance I would have that week for a little P-town sight seeing.  Shane does NOT like boats.  Like, at all.  And I didn’t even know if he would get on the boat that morning.  I knew there was a very real possibility that I’d be doing a lot of sight seeing on my own with Shane that morning, but luckily, with a little help from Uncle Jay, Shane marched right up onto that boat!  He was a little hesitant at first, and wanted to remain inside the cabin, but he warmed up to it after a while (and after a bag of Smartfood from the snack bar!) and he ended up loving the excursion as much as the rest of us!  He really got a kick out of seeing all the whales.  We were all surprised to see SO many and to be able to get that close to them.  It was truly remarkable.  Not only did we see tons of whales, but we also conquered our fear of boats!

Next test will be try to get Shane to go on the ferry from CT to Long Island!  My first attempt didn’t go so well!

My little boy.  My reason for living.

Yeah, so I haven’t exactly been sharing our vacation photos in order.  My bad.

All of these pictures were taken on our first day at the beach.  This is Colonial Acres Beach; the little beach that was a 3 minute walk down the street from our beach house.  I miss this place.

More of Jay & Shane patrolling the coastline:

My remarkable, and handsome, brother.  Jay, when in the world were you in Montana??

He looks so much like Chris to me in this one:

Looking for lost treasure:

Hard at work:

Man, do I love this boy.  My heart is so full when he’s around.

Always busy thinking and planning; just like his dad.

One night, just before dinner, Jay and Kate and I took Shane down to the quiet little beach on the bay down the street from our house.  We went with the intentions of showing Shane what low tide was all about; but as tends to happen when I’m around, low tide hadn’t actually taken place yet!  In fact, the tide was still going out and low tide was still several hours away.  So we switched gears.  And Jay started skipping stones across the still bay.  And shortly thereafter, Shane started skipping stones (his own version anyway), too.  Kate and I stood with our feet in the sand, looking out at the water.  Hyannis Harbor, to our right, was quiet.  Lights were starting to shine through the windows of all the homes lining the coast.  It was a wonderful, windy, cool night.  The kind of beach night you imagine when hear stories about Cape Cod.  Or Nantucket.  Or Martha’s Vineyard.  We may never have gotten our chance to show Shane low tide; but other memories were made instead.  Low tide can wait until next year.

Jay & Shane.  In one way or another, Chris is always with us.

My beautiful sister.

I usually don’t post twice in one day.  And I never do it on my cherished “flashback friday”; and I’ve been trying to throw myself completely into editing all of the vacation pictures and sharing them here with all of you; and in doing so I’m trying to remain upbeat and positive.  But it’s just not working.  And in trying to do so, I’m being dishonest with myself.

I started this blog 3+ years ago to be a chronicle of our life together as a family.  And of course I never expected our journey to take the road it did, and for us to end up where we are now; but that’s the path that was chosen for us.  I vowed from the very beginning to share both the good and the bad.  The pretty and the ugly.  And I’ve always done just that; sometimes even brutally so.  So today, I’m going back to my roots.

I’m missing my husband something fierce this week.  Maybe it’s the “back from vacation blues”.  Maybe it’s all my beloved vacation photos - not one of which includes Chris.  Maybe it’s the wedding I have to attend tonight.  Maybe it’s seeing the pain on my in-laws faces - the same pain that I know is on mine.  Maybe it’s not being able to spend quality time talking with quality friends.  Maybe it’s from being tired.  Maybe it’s from Shane asking and talking about his dad so much.  Maybe it’s just part of where I am in the journey.  But I’m missing my husband.

I’ve cried more this week than I’ve cried in a long time.  It seems every few minutes my eyes are stinging with tears again.  My heart aches.  My stomach hurts.  I haven’t slept well all week.  I feel like I need to make changes in my life.  I want to be able to spend more time with Shane.  I hate that his early years are almost over; that next year he’ll be off to kindergarten.  I hate that as a single parent, I can’t afford the luxury of taking some time away from my current career to find a new one that will work with the lifestyle that I’m so badly seeking.  And I hate that I have no one to share these thoughts with.

This is not the life I wanted.  The life I wanted was the life I had.  The one that was stolen from me.  From us.  I want that life back.  I want my husband back.  I want Shane’s early years back.  I want the one thing I can’t have.  More time.

So I knew I wanted Shane to try mini golf while we were on vacation; I knew it was something we wouldn’t just “go and do” at home and I felt like if he could be patient enough to give it a chance; that he’d REALLY like it.  However, I had very little faith in Shane having much patience.  He’s never been good at taking turns or waiting - both things which, I’m sure, come from being an only child.  I honestly thought by the 2nd hole, Shane and I would be heading into the arcade next door to kill some time while we waited for everyone else to finish the remaining 16 holes.  And the night started out exactly as I thought it would.

It’s mini golf, on Cape Cod, in August.  So needless to say, it was crowded.  As we were waiting for our turn at the first hole, Shane is twirling around his golf club, wacking his little blue ball all over the place and was running around in circles.  I started thinking we wouldn’t even make it to the 2nd hole.  But by the time it was our turn on the first hole something magical happened (there’s that Cape Cod magic again) - Shane completely changed.  He calmly bent down to place his ball on the green, he stood up, placed his club in his hands and hit his little blue ball as if he’d done this 100x before!  He LOVED it!  And, he was WONDERFUL!  He patiently waited, not only for the rest of us to take our turns as well, but for the people ahead of us to finish up so we could move on to the next hole.  He was a pro at mini golf!  Sure, it sometimes took him 10 tries to get the ball in the hole, but he never gave up and he never lost his patience with it!  There were even a few times he actually got the ball in the hole with only 2 or 3 hits!  Bottom line - Shane LOVED it!  And we ended up playing 4 more times during our week on the Cape!  I think we may have created a mini golf monster!

The last time Chris and I played mini golf was on vacation in Wildwood.  June 2007.  Shane was only 13 months old at the time so he stayed behind at the house with both of his nana’s.  Playing with Shane was a lot like playing with Chris!  Except Shane didn’t cheat (probably because he doesn’t know any better yet)!  I know this for sure, Chris would’ve been SO proud of his little boy; swinging that club like a pro!  It kills me that he’s missing out on these moments.  It’s not supposed to be this way.  It still amazes me how incredibly unfair life can be.  And how sucky, too.  The night, like the vacation, would’ve been absolutely perfect.  If only my husband had been able to be there.

**All photos taken with my point and shoot.  There was no regard for the technical aspects of photography while taking these shots.  These were taken simply to capture the moment**

Getting a quick lesson from Uncle Jay:

Taking a practice swing and hamming it up with Aunt Kate:

The Cape seriously had some of the nicest mini golf courses I’ve ever played at.  Some of the scenery was just beautiful.

Typical group picture!  Half o them looking at the camera; the other half looking at Shane!  Thanks Aly and Kate!

So proud!

Jay & Aly

Seriously!  How cute is he?!

One of the things I had wanted to do on this vacation was take Shane to play mini golf for the first time.  I honestly didn’t think it was going to go well, but I felt like it was time to try.  Shane played the game just like his dad used to!  More on that tomorrow, but for now, here’s what Shane thought of mini golf -

*Most of the non-beach/non-house pictures were taken with my point and shoot.  As good as it felt to be behind the camera again, I wasn’t up to lugging around my real camera on all of our excursions . . .

We’re back from a week long vacation on Cape Cod.  Of course the trip was bitter sweet for us, but I’m beyond grateful for the wonderful time and memories we made this past week.  It’s moments like these that make the journey of moving forward worth doing.

We rented a house in Yarmouth, along with my mom, my sister, my brother and his girlfriend.  I’ve said before how lucky we are to have such incredible family and friends, but this week on the Cape reinforced those beliefs even more.  We are blessed, indeed.  It was wonderful to be able to spend so much quality time with all of you.  We miss every single one of you already.

The house we rented on the Cape was literally a 3 minute walk from a quiet beach on the bay.  We did spend most of our days on that beach, but the sand was rather rocky and the beach was rather small.  We decided to treat ourselves one day, and paid the $15 parking fee to spend a few hours at Seagull Beach, a “real” Cape Cod beach, located just 5 minutes from “our beach house”, as Shane had come to call it.

We were only there a few hours, but the beach found it’s way into my soul.  There was something special about that place, life just felt different there.  I look forward to spending many more summer days at Seagull Beach, with my feet in the smooth sand staring out at Nantucket Sound.

On these rare moments, life can still be good.

I think this photo pretty much sums up the week we had at Cape Cod.  LOTS more to come . . .

It feels SO good to be back on our beach.

3 days in, 4 more to go. 

It’s been alot of this:

And a little of this:

We’re off to make some more memories  . . .

The anniversary of Chris’ death was a day that haunted me all year.  The entire year of grief led up to that one day.  I knew I wanted to do something to mark the day, to honor my husband, to gather our family together, but I wasn’t sure what.  In the end, I did what I knew Chris would’ve wanted me to do - we had a BBQ at the house.

Being that this was the first year, I wanted to keep it “small” (small to the tune of 70+ people), but because it was such a huge success, I plan on making it an annual event (though perhaps we’ll move the BBQ to his birthday weekend instead) and we’ll definitely be inviting more people in the coming years!

I know that day was hard for a lot of you.  I know what it’s like to be at our home and not have Chris there.  I know what it’s like to watch the door, waiting for him to walk through it.  I thank all of you for being there.  We are blessed to have such a remarkable family.  That day was important to me.  It was important to me to honor Chris and it was important to me that Shane have the opportunity to be surrounded by so many people that love him, and that love his dad.  Shane will miss out on enough in his life because of Chris’ death, I don’t want him to miss out on anything more.  So thank you for helping me to realize that dream as well.  I look forward to celebrating Chris’ life with all of you - for many,  many years to come.

This post is chock full of photos.  No thanks to me, of course.  Once again, my dusty camera never saw the light of day.  Aunt Trae, thank you SO much for sharing your images with me, so that I could share them with all of you.

Tim & Trae:

Trae & Uncle Charlie:

Trae & Brian:

Timmy & Patrick:

Charleen, Randy & Suzann:

Shawn, Trae & Danny:

Shawn, Danny & Andrea:

Patrick & Shane:

Celebrating a life well lived:

Once again, Sue doing what no O’Connor could that day:

We love you all:

Brady:

Russell:

Me & Jim:

Larry & CJ:

Karen & Trae:

John & Val:

Dina & CJ:

Brian, Jenn & Russell:

Chuck & Diane:

Baseball @ night:

Shane & Jamie:

I know for certain that my husband was with us that day . . . and he was smiling.

I love you all.

On another note, I just wanted to wish the love of my life a Happy Anniversary.  Our first date was 11 years ago today.  Dive bar and laundry.  Let’s just say the guy had me at “hello”.  I remember, so clearly, standing on the sidewalk outside of the bar, getting ready to call it a night.  It was there that we shared our first kiss.  I knew then it was the start of something special, though  I never could’ve guessed just how special, and how amazing it would turn out to be.  He asked me to go back home with him, and I accepted.  Something SO out of character for me.  But I trusted him.  And there was something about him, about what had started that night in the bar.  A lesser woman would’ve turned and run in the opposite direction upon seeing the dark stairway that led up to their 2nd floor apartment.  And if she didn’t run then, she certainly would’ve when they took the door on the left at the top of the stairs.  The door that opened right into his bedroom, instead of the door on the right that opened into the kitchen.  And if that didn’t do it, surely the sight of a twin sized futon sitting on the floor and an old couch, standing upright, leaning against the far wall, would have.  But not for me.  There was a force pulling me towards the unknown that night.  I couldn’t describe it, but it was unlike anything I had ever felt before.  We stayed up for hours talking and getting to know each other.  I remember not wanting that night to end.  Not wanting any of it to end.  It was magical.  It all just ended far too soon.  Looking back, I suppose you could call that night a gamble, all of these signs telling me to turn and run, yet doing the opposite.  But it never felt like a gamble.  It felt like fate.  This guy was the love of my life.  I knew it then, 11 years ago.  And so did he.  From very early on there was no doubt as to how our first date out at a dive bar would end.  We were in it for the long haul.  It just wasn’t long enough.  I love you CGO.  And I miss you.  Every second of my life I miss you.  Thank you for showing me how to love.  And for loving me so incredibly well in return.  You are my heart.  Now.  Always.

I had planned to write about the anniversary weekend today, but instead I wanted to write about Walk for Hope.

WALK FOR HOPE is a fundraising event sponsored by CancerCare.  CancerCare was a huge help to us when Chris was sick.  They provided all kinds of research materials and resources to us and also provided a little bit of financial support by covering a few copays and some prescription costs.  They are a fantastic nonprofit organization that provides free, professional services for anyone affected by cancer - patient, family or caregiver.

Walk for Hope is a 5k walk at Jennings Beach in Fairfield CT on September 12, 2010.  It’s a walk to help raise money for CancerCare, so that they can continue to help others like they helped us.  It’s a walk to celebrate survivors.  To support people affected by cancer.  To remember loved ones lost.

I’m going to be taking part in the event, as a walker, and I’m wondering if anyone would like to join me?  It’s a $25 registration fee for each walker (age 12 and older) that can either be donated or raised.  Check-in is at 8am on Sunday, 9/12 and the 5k walk starts at 9am.

I’ve created a team named “Remembering OC”, so if you register be sure to register under that team name at http://community.cancercare.org/teamrememberingoc.  We can all walk together, in honor of a man we all love and miss.  I plan on having Shane (and a stroller!) right there with me - even pets are welcome to participate!  I think this can be a great thing.  It’s another reason to get together.  It’s another opportunity to help OC Pay it Forward.  CancerCare helped us when we needed it most, now it’s our turn to help them.

If you’re interested in walking for Team “Remembering OC”, either leave a comment to this post, or email me at rememberingoc@hotmail.com

Additional information can be found at the CancerCare website - www.cancercare.org/walkct

Hope to see you there!

**If you can’t join us in the 5k walk at Jennings Beach, but would like to help support the Remembering OC team, you can do so at http://community.cancercare.org/rememberingoc

With the help, love and support of our family and friends, we made it through the weekend that marked the one year anniversary of Chris’ death.

I know I’ve said this before, but there really is no way Shane and I would’ve gotten through this last year without the support that we’ve seen from our family and our close friends.  So many people have given up so much this past year to be there for us and to help us get through each day.  There’s no way to adequately thank you all for that kind of support.  Being surrounded by family and friends is the best thing for us, and we are beyond grateful for all of you.

I still don’t know how we’re going to keep getting through each day without Chris.  The grief, even after an entire year, can still catch me off guard.  It can still knock me to my knees.  It’s still exhausting and the idea of spending the rest of our lives feeling this way is daunting at best.  But we’ll continue to struggle through.  And I hope our friends and family will continue to be there to help pick us up when we stumble, because stumble we will.  Often.

I still wish I could have our perfect, happily-ever-after, life back.  I want that more than anything.  I still miss my husband more than I ever imagined I could.  It’s a lonely, lonely road, this road of grief.  It’s a long, dark, dangerous journey.  We’ve come this far, but we still have so very far to go.

And here we are.  Welcome to year two.

I can still see, so clearly, that 8th floor when my sister carried Shane down the hallway towards Chris’ room.  The whole floor seemed to freeze.  Tears where sliding down the faces of the doctors and nurses — people who have watched this scene play out far too many times.  It was painfully quiet.  No one moved.  No one spoke.  The only sound left was the sound of the machines.

I took Shane into my arms and I held him.  I turned to Mimi and together she and I took Shane in to see his Dad for the last time.  Chris never opened his eyes when we were there, in fact he would never open them again, but I like to believe he knew we were there with him.  Sitting next to him.  I held his hand and balanced Shane on my lap.  I explained to Shane, as best I could, and with Mimi’s help, what was about to happen.  I don’t know that Shane understood what we saying, and really, I’m not sure that it matters.  What’s important was that he was there.

I asked Shane if he wanted to touch his Daddy’s hand, or give him a hug or a kiss.  Shane shook his head no and we respected his decision.  Mimi and I walked him out of the room and my sister then walked in.  I remember Mimi giving Shane a cup of chocolate ice cream out of the freezer and I remember how happy Shane was to have it.  The smile on his face so out of place, so unlike the faces around him.  But when you’re 3 and you don’t understand the meaning of an ICU or death, chocolate ice cream is all that matters.

Shortly after Shane finished his ice cream, my sister started the process of trying to get Shane to go home.  He was an unwilling participant to say the least, but I think when you’re 3 years old, and your life has been turned upside down, you’ve barely caught a glimpse of your mom in the last 6 weeks, and you just saw your (unresponsive) dad for the first time in as long, that the last thing you’d want to do is leave.  But by some miracle (at least we got one that day) she was able to get him to go, though not easily.

I remember being panicky.  Mimi kept telling me it was going to be quick and that I should be there with Chris.  And in the next breathe she was telling me that she didn’t know if he would “go” with me present in the room.  She told me if we reached a point where we felt he was just hanging on to hang on, that I should consider taking a walk and let the pieces fall where they may.  I’m thankful that we never reached that stage.  I don’t know that I would have been able to leave that room, knowing that I may never again see my husband alive.  If he was breathing, if he was still living, I needed to be there with him.  I knew in my heart that he knew I was there, and that he could hear every word that I whispered into his ear.  If nothing else, I had that.

Our close knit group of 8 stood in a circle around Chris’ bed for the next few hours.  Waiting for what, I’m not sure.  A sign maybe?  A signal?  A change?  Every once in a while Sue’s cell phone would ring.  It would be Jamie.  Calling both to give and to receive an update.  He was making the drive of his life that night.  Trying to make his way from PA to CT during rush hour.  Hoping against hope that he would get there in enough time to wish his best friend a proper farewell.

Each time Sue hung up the phone, she would whisper another message from Jamie into Chris’ ear.  We would all take turns whispering into his ear.  Messages of love.  Of hope.  Of gratitude.

I sat there in that ICU room that awful night, holding my husband’s cold hand.  Trying desperately to keep him warm, and knowing at the same time that a warm hand wasn’t going to change anything.  I kept telling myself that I could do this.  That I could watch him leave me if I had to.  I knew in my heart there was no where else I wanted to be.