A week or two after Chris died, one of his best friends, Jim, came up with his son to spend the day with Shane and I.  Aunt Tracie was still here from FL, so she got to come and enjoy the day, too.

We went to the zoo in Bridgeport (cute, small, cheap), went and had chicks & fries for lunch and then went up to the cemetery so visit with our guy.  It was a nice day despite the underlying tone.

Chris has two of the best friends in the entire world.  And thanks to the two of them, memories like these will be abundant.  And for Shane, Chris will live on through them.

Shane and Uncle Jim watching the wolves:

Shane and James :

This last picture was our sign from Chris that day.  It’s how we know he was there and that he was happy we were all together.  When he was little his mom dressed him as the Pillsbury Doughboy for a parade when he was younger.   His cousins got to dress in cool costumes and there was Chris in his Doughboy outfit!  The (supposed) humiliation is something he never let his parents forget.  For those of you that know Chris, you know how he can harp on things and carry on (and on, and on).  It’s become a running joke in the family.  Chris was always getting Doughboy gifts for the holidays (t-shirts, ornaments, serving trays) - he even ended up with TWO Doughboy dolls while he was in the hospital!  The day we were at the zoo there were a lot of summer camp kids there - all wearing these yellow shirts.  This kid, this ONE kid, is the only one who had anything written on the back of his shirt.  A true sign.  Chris never was much of a speller:

-he had a thing with “fresh linens”.  He loved using a new towel every time he’d shower.  He say to me, “you know how I feel about fresh linens”  He loved when we put fresh sheets on the bed - “you know how I feel about fresh linens”  He’d tease me, mercilessly, telling me he deserved fresh linens, on our bed and hanging in the bathroom, every morning.  I tell him he knew where the washing machine and dryer was.   All in good fun.  All in typical OC sarcasm.

-he used to love when he had something planned (a concert, a sporting event, a night out on the town) and my brother was involved.  He always thought there was no way I would get mad at him for going out and leaving me behind if he was spending time with my brother.  He was right. 

-he hated the NY Yankees - on principal alone - but he’d take me games anyway because I was a fan

-he hated heights

-he hated confined spaces

-he hated needles

-he was the “bug killer” in our house

-he slept on the right side of the bed

-his feet were ALWAYS cold

-he gave the best back rubs

-his favorite part of going to the movies was the popcorn

-he used to take Shane to the firehouse in the morning to see the firetrucks.  They’d spend an hour there sometimes talking up the firemen - I don’t know who enjoyed it more.  The four hours in the morning that Chris and Shane had alone together before Chris had to go to work were priceless.  He cherished those hours and loved having the mornings with his son.  It was special time for both of them and I’m so glad they were able to have it. 

-his sneakers always came from Target.  And they always only cost $15 - yet he’d buy me the world in a heartbeat if I asked for it.

-he LOVED Beefaroni (I know, I know), but he’d call it “beef-a-reen-o; fun for king and queen-o” (I know, I know)

-he wore an orange Mets t-shirt the day of my c-section.  He wanted that shirt, and that team, to be the first thing Shane saw.  And it was.

-he was the love of my life, the man of my dreams.  I miss that dream dearly.

And he was SO much more . . .

I didn’t want to be in college and I certainly didn’t want to be in a dorm. As is usually the case in dorm life, the floor I lived on was an eclectic group of folks; most were older than me and had already met the year before.

For the first few weeks, I barely spoke to anybody on the floor. And few people spoke with me, which was fine because I liked to watch the “show” of people playing-out their various roles. One person in particular who stood-out right away was the guy who would sit in his room every night, perched in a big Archie Bunker-style chair, wearing shorts and watching baseball at peak volume.

He usually had a carton of Hershey’s chocolate milk, which would inevitably be waving around as a kind of prop among the myriad shouts and gestures he directed at the tv set. And there was an odd way, that way he held his head- it seemed like his face was turned toward the doorway (presumably looking at the bricks of the hallway) but he was clearly watching the tv with great interest.

While he generally kept to himself and did his own thing, he was by no means a recluse. I would often seem him in the lounge area with one of the rugby players “passing” a soccer ball by bouncing it off his head, never using his hands. Someone told me he had been a goalie for the soccer team- and a gifted one at that.

I also noticed he would occasionally carry around a small baseball bat, which he referred to as “The Enforcer”. The Enforcer would generally come into use any time he need to articulate a particular point that he felt his unique, Long Island-toned prose was not adequately conveying. For example, I had seen The Enforcer factor prominently in several requests of people to lower their voices so a particular sports broadcast could be heard or so he could sleep. The request was always compelling and nobody ever seemed to take offense at it.

The day I first officially met him was actually at night. He was perched in his chair, tv set (loudly) tuned to a baseball game, head turned in that strange position. On this particular night, the typical Hershey’s carton was replaced by a short, squat, brown beer bottle. And, in addition to the tv, he had an obscure Frank Zappa song playing (almost as loud as the TV). I owned the same Zappa album and decided I would go introduce myself.

I walked over to his doorway (realizing he was actually looking at the TV despite his face being turned toward me) and handed him a cassette of the Frank Zappa epic “Billy the Mountain”. He looked at it, looked at me, and said “Here, have a hand grenade” tossing me a beer. “They didn’t have any mortars tonight (pronounced “mohtahas”) so I got a case of grenades instead”.

Not knowing what the hell he was talking about, I was also struck by his open, friendly demeanor- quite a contrast to the image of the Enforcer-carrying, lone-wolf soccer-wizard. In what must have clearly been his response to the puzzled look on my face, he proceed to explain “these are Schmidts- they come in two sizes: hand grenades (the small bottles) and mortars (the bar bottles)”.

We spent the rest of the night talking. By early morning, I had him listening to the Grateful Dead and he was telling me legends about growing up in Brentwood. He had a unique talent for telling stories- a type of hyperactive, on-the-verge-of-stutter sort of cadence with an endearing intensity that was highlighted by his Long Island accent.

Over the next four years, he would be at the epicenter of every memorable event I can recall from that era. We went to class together, we went to the library together, we went to concerts together, we committed buffoonery together, we lived together, we worked together and we explored the outer limits of reality together. He is one of the most authentic, enjoyable and truly unique people I ever met.

Fast forward to an afternoon in May of this year. I’m in my office at work and my Mother calls to tell me she got a call from “somebody named Sean Muldowney”. The sound of worlds colliding quickly vanished when I heard the rest of the sentence… “and he left you his phone number…he told me that OC is sick”. I remember her asking, “I hope he isn’t talking about your old roommate from college.” (OC was a celebrity with my parents- actually, he was a celebrity with just about everybody who met him). In a horribly twisted way, I was suddenly reunited with Sean and OC- two friends I had unspeakable amount of fun with. But this time there wasn’t anything funny.

I, like so many of you, have multitudes of OC stories. All of them are good times; in fact, many are legendary for me at this point. After Sean’s call, I searched the internet and found Kristin’s blog. I got to hear about my friend as a Husband, a Father and a friend to so many. And I cried like a baby.

The last time I saw him was at my daughter’s baptism in 1999. Time may have gotten between us, but he never was and never is more than a thought away. And I smile every single time.

Such a long, long time to be gone. And a short time to be there.

I’m missing you today.  Not that that’s any different than any other day.  Maybe it’s just hurting more today.  Maybe it’s just more at the surface today, I don’t know.  Must be something in the air though, because Shane’s feeling it too.  Lately he goes to bed talking about you and wakes up talking about you.  The look in his eyes breaks my heart.  It’s an awful cross to bear, and I’m so sorry he has to carry it the rest of his life.  I know you fought to keep that from happening, for all of us.

You’re on my mind constantly.  Like LITERALLY, constantly.  I love having you that close to me, but having you that close on days like today just makes it difficult to breathe.

I’m just so lonely lately.  I long to be in your arms and feel the warmth of your chest against my cheek.  It has to get better than this.  The thought of feeling like this everyday for the rest of my life - it’s unimaginable.  It just can’t be.

Know how much I love you.  Know how sorry I am you’re gone.

Life has been going on around us despite my best effort to try to ignore it.  Every once in a while, however, I’ll look at that little face that my husband and I created and I’ll know that I need to join in on life occasionally because of him. 

It’s occurred to me lately that there are very few pictures of Shane from the last year, and rightfully so, but it’s just another thing about Cancer that pisses me off.  It’s taken so much from us and now I’m realizing it took a year of Shane’s toddler hood from us as well, along with the proof that it ever existed.

Now don’t get me wrong, I do have some photos from the last year, the problem is that since Chris died, I haven’t had the desire to remove any of them from the camera to share them.  I’m realizing that this blog is not only my sounding board, but it’s also a scrapbook of Shane’s life, and what’s a life without photos?

It’s my hope that in the coming weeks I’ll be able to update you on all that’s been going on around here in addition to the damn grief.  The grief doesn’t stop just because I wake up and decide we should try “living” that day, instead, the two just co-exist for a while.

On Columbus Day, Aunt Kate and I took Shane pumpkin picking.  We had grand plans to go with my best friend, Katie, and her one year old son, but being pregnant and having a cold isn’t really conducive to pumpkin picking!!  We didn’t go to the farm that Chris and I have taken Shane every other year (I’m not that brave) - but we tried somewhere new and we had fun.  There was just one thing missing.  But then again, there’s always just one thing missing.

Lately I’ve been trying to wrap my head around that word, and everything it entails.  It’s so much more than just a word.  It’s a label.  It’s defining.  It’s who I am at this moment in my life and it will leave a rather large scar that I’ll take with me through the rest of my journey.

Grieving is hard work.  It’s EXHAUSTING.  It takes everything I have in me just to get through one day.  Sometimes it takes that just to get through one hour.  Internally, I’m feeling worse lately.  Worse.  Not better.  I have to literally prevent myself from thinking about Chris in order to get through a day.  By the time I crawl into bed at night I feel like I spent the day putting on an academy award winning performance, convincing people that I’m better than I really am.  I’m tired of me, surely they must be, too.  I’m spent.  And I’m staring to fray.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep working two jobs (my day job and my grief job), run a house, care for pets and then be a single mom to our 3 year old son on top of all that and giving him everything that he needs and deserves.  I so wish that was my only job.  By the time I get Shane to sleep at night, it’s well past my own bed time and I crawl on in and cry myself to sleep.  There’s no wind down time.  There’s no “me” time.  There’s no decompressing with my other half.  There’s just grief.

Life is not going to be okay again.  This event, this last year, will have an effect on Shane and I for the rest of our lives.  It will change us and we’ll never be completely “better”.

There’s a blog I came across shortly after Chris died that’s written by another young widow who is now left to raise her two small children.  She likened the monumental loss of her husband to the acquisition of a new, REALLY large, backpack:

When this backpack (aka pain) is thrust upon you, you don’t think you will ever be able to stand again. It is so heavy and oppressive that it hurts just to breathe. You can’t imagine that one day you may be able to stand.

But each day, you grow slightly stronger. One day, you can drag yourself a few centimetres. Eventually, you can crawl a little ways. That bloody backpack is still there. You can’t shed it, but you learn to carry it so that it is slightly more manageable.

One day, you find that you are strong enough to stand. It’s hard. In fact, it’s exhausting and it may make you feel resentful and fed up, but you do it.

Knowing that eventually you may be able to run or dance again, even though you carry this mismatched piece of luggage upon your back, is an achievement in itself. You are not ‘over it, moving on or healed”, you are just carrying that blasted thing with you because it has become a part of your shape and part of you. It may not match anything else you wear, but you are stronger than you ever believed or knew you could be.

That’s what it feels like.  It doesn’t go away.  It just becomes part of you.  The sadness, the anger, the loneliness, the heartache - they don’t go away - they just become a part of who you are.  And I really think that sucks.  I never signed up for this.  I signed up for happily ever after.  Would I go back and do it all differently?  Absolutely not!  Never!  But maybe I would’ve pushed my wanting to vacation to Disney World a little bit harder.  Now, like so many other things, it’s just one more thing that I have to do alone.

A year ago today Zita & I sat in the cafeteria at St Vincent’s Medical Center while Chris had a liver biopsy.  It was a hospital we hadn’t been in since we walked out of there 2.5 years earlier with our newborn; and it was hospital we would spend much of the coming year sitting in.  That day was the first day of our “new life”.  The life we didn’t want to be living; the one I’m living now.  Our families and our friends would spend hours visiting Chris inside those 4 walls, holding his hand, wishing him well, comforting him and comforting each other.  I was SO sure on that day that things were going to be fine.  I just had a feeling.  I didn’t know if the biopsy would turn out the way we wanted; but I just knew that whole situation would resolve - we’d get through it and we’d get through it together.  I have never, not in my entire life, been SO wrong.  Here I sit; 3 months past the very worst day of my life; and having no clue what my future looks like.  I lost THAT guy.

So, today seems like the perfect day to honor that guy again, and thanks to some of the people that knew Chris best; we have a lot of fun “OC info” to put into Shane’s book.  I want to thank my mom, my sister, my brother, Sue, and of course; Jamie & Jim; for contributing to the “who he was” post.  As we’ve all said; this is something we can add to for years to come - and I hope we do.  This book that’s being made for Shane will be one of the great links to his dad.  It’s my hope that all of you will continue to contribute your memories of what made Chris, Chris.  He was all of these things for sure; but he was SO much more:

-he was the life of the party

-he loved being the center of attention

-he was a hard worker.  Dedicated.  Committed.  He had a good job, worked for a good company, and he knew it.  It was something he never took for granted.  He never complained about taking on extra shifts or covering for someone who was out.  In his mind, it was overtime - which meant more money.  Taking care of his family, and being someone his company could rely on, those were his top priorities.  He didn’t even mind going in on the occasional Saturday.

-he liked to sleep on his side

-he was a guy’s guy

-he loved horror movies

-his favorite part of going to a movie theater was the popcorn

-he always danced like no one was watching (and had even more fun when he knew someone was)

-he watched tv with his body facing one direction and his eyes another (you’d have to see it to imagine it)

-he was a die hard NY sports fan (Giants, Rangers, Mets) and was a true fan even when it was embarrassing to be one

-he loved his music.  ALL kinds of music.  Oldies, reggae, alternative, hard rock, heavy metal, even broadway show tunes and kids soundtracks (Wiggles, anyone?!) - but nothing, NOTHING, could match his love for the Grateful Dead

-his favorite TV show was SuperNatural, though he would never have admitted that.  If asked, he would’ve claimed BookTV or SportsCenter

-he was never a big fan of the beach, neither was I.  It’s part of the reason we did Disney World for our honeymoon.

-he was right handed, but left brained.

-he was a complete gentleman on our first date, but all bets were off by our second

-his cologne of choice was HUGO - Boss.  That scent can still make me weak in the knees.

-he loved the color green

-he looked awesome in red

-he hated when his hair got long, because it would get curly (I LOVED those curls)

-he took his coffee with milk and sugar, and he preferred it to be hazelnut flavored so long as it was fresh brewed that way and not flavored with syrup.

-he was never very patient when it came to hooking up electronics or putting together furniture or toys.  The quicker it was done, the better.  If it didn’t “hold” - he’d worry about it later.

-he knew how to live.  He lived the way people are meant to live.  I learned a LOT from him about life.  We’ve only got one shot at this ride.

-he made fun of Starbucks and of my “fancy” coffee drinks.  This guy liked things simple.

-he once told me, when we first started dating, that the scratches on the top of his car (Mighty Maroon, as he called her) were from when he and Jamie were driving to Colorado and got attacked by a mountain lion.  I believed him.  It wasn’t until YEARS later that I learned the scratches were actually from his chosen method of cleaning snow off the roof of his car . . . a shovel.

-he hated to shave, and never saw the point.  He’d shave in the morning and would have a 5 o’clock shadow by lunch.

-he was the funniest guy I knew.  Our entire relationship was filled with laughter.  VERY rarely was there ever a raised voice - and if there was it was always mine.

-he graduated Southern CT State University with a BA in Communications.  He always said he should’ve waited and “done” college in his 30’s - he would’ve gotten a lot more out of it and would’ve graduated with a degree to teach history.

-he was obsessed with brushing his teeth

-he was meticulous about trimming his ear and nose hairs (he’d kill me for telling you that)

-he had a heart shaped patch of hair in the center of his lower back.  Oddly, I could’ve stared at it for hours - I found it that endearing!

-he LOVED to read books.  History books and biographies to be specific.  We have bookshelves full of them.  He belonged to every (BORING) book club imaginable (The History Book Club, Military Book Club, Quality Paperback BookClub) - it was insane actually.

-he LOVED his magazines.  He subscribed to all the usual suspects; NewsWeek, US News & World Report, TIME, Sports Illustrated and he even subscribed to magazines I didn’t even know existed; Civil War Times, for example.

-he LOVED snuggling on the couch on weekends - either during Shane’s nap time or after he was in bed for the night - and watching all the shows we had recorded during the week.  We both preferred that to going out to bars or a party.  It was our time.  We cherished it.

-he HATED watching TV in bed.  He could never get comfortable.

-he’d go out during snowstorms and shovel 4-5 times, so as not to have to deal with a foot (or more) of snow in one shot.

-he enjoyed mowing the lawn in the summer.  He liked the sense of accomplishment and it made him feel good to know he was responsible for the yard looking nice.

-he helped me clean the house all the time and NEVER complained and he often did it without my asking

-his favorite chore was cleaning the windows

-he always took the cars in to get the oil changed and always filled them up with gas.  Filling the car with gas also meant resetting the trip odometer (something I still do, because I know it would make Chris smile).  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve almost run out of gas since Chris went into the hospital.  I’ve had to leave notes reminding me to fill the tank.

-he did the laundry more than I did.  Washed, dried, folded.  All I ever did was put it away.

-his favorite meal was chicken piccata, but his favorite food was potato chips and onion dip

-his favorite drink - Snapple iced tea

-his favorite alcoholic drink - g00d old beer, or  a margarita at Chuck’s

-he loved going to the Giants’ games with Jamie and Dan and the Rangers’ games with Jim.  To him, it was always more about being able to spend time with his friends than it was the actual game - that was secondary.

-he was the KING of concerts.  Never met one he didn’t like!

-he loved to poke fun.  Never to be mean, always to get a laugh.

-he was sarcastic and he “got” my sarcasm.

-he loved to help people.  He was always the first in line to offer up what he had to give, even if it was the shirt off his back.

-he loved animals.  We rescued two dogs from a shelter and they both always loved him best.

-he loved his family and there was rarely a family get together he missed.  He loved spending time with everyone and hearing all the stories from “back in the day”.  He also loved to retell those same stories.

-he was straight forward.  There was no beating around the bush.  He told it like it was.

-he was great at putting people at ease.

-he was strong and full of energy, yet he was so gentle.  He treated Shane and I like gold.  To Chris, we were so delicate and had to be handled so carefully.

-he was every bit the man I wanted to marry and never thought I’d find.  He was the same man in public as he was behind closed doors.  He was never afraid for the world to see how deeply in love we were.

-he always made me feel like I was the only woman in the room.  Scratch that, the world.

-he was the world’s greatest dad.  Chris and Shane did more together in the 3 short years they had than a lot of dad’s do with their kids in a lifetime.  There was nothing in life he wanted more than to be a dad, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t have done for Shane.

-he loved his family - more than life.  And he would’ve done anything for anyone.

- he was always looking at himself in the mirror - sometimes to make funny faces, sometimes to check out his nose hairs, sometimes just because there was one there - he never passed a mirror (or anything that would offer a reflection) that he didn’t at least glance into. . .

- he was the one who always came up with little excursions for us - one day he drove us all the way up RT 7 into Vermont just to see the foliage; he had us leaving at the crack of dawn (dogs in tow in the back seat) and it was dinner time before we finally got home again . . .

- one of my best friends from high school was getting married a few months before our wedding, in OHIO, and we had no money to spare for airline tickets; I really didn’t want to miss the wedding and he offered to drive (overnight) so that we could go; we left Friday night around 5pm, got to Ohio at 6am Saturday morning, went to the wedding that evening and were back in the car at 6am on Sunday - all that time in a car and we NEVER ran out of things to talk about . . .

- when we first started dating his bed was a (smaller than a twin) futon that sat about 3 inches off the ground; his first night in a real bed was our first night in our first apartment . . .

-he LOVED living in CT with Jamie; he showed up on Jamie’s doorstep one night when Jamie was living in a Studio in Stratford - once Jamie realized OC wasn’t leaving they found their apartment on King Street; he would always tell me how easy living with Jamie was - it must’ve been, they did it for 10 years . . .

-every weekend morning he’d go out and get us coffee and pickup the newspapers; he’d come home and pour through every single page until it was read front to back; he preferred the NY papers because they read like a book - the CT papers are LONG and rectangular; not something you could sit on your lap and read easily . . .

-he never told me “no” - NEVER. If there was something I wanted to buy; he told me I deserved it; if there was something I wanted to do; the next day we were doing it . . . he loved dancing with Shane to the theme song from Rescue Me . . .

-he liked to put his sunglasses on at an angle; cross his arms in front of his chest and give me his best “horatio stance” . . .

-he liked to think his name was Jack Bauer . . .

-he was the one who found Zoe on the website for the animal shelter in Long Island; he’s also the one who convinced me we NEEDED the 2nd dog. I was in the middle of baking Christmas cookies and left everything to hop in the car with him to go get her . . .

-when Shane was a newborn and wouldn’t/couldn’t sleep; we’d often end up getting up in the car and going for a drive in the middle of the night. He never complained; and I think he may have even enjoyed it. We always did that together, except for one time after he got sick - that was the beginning of the end for me . . .

-he owned TWO suits - one which we got right before his Grandmother’s funeral and one which he wanted to get after he learned he was going to be Lily’s godfather . . . he owned a Jerry Garcia tie - it was his FAVORITE tie . . .

-he loved hanging out in his boxers and a pair of socks; he loved to be comfortable . .

-he was the best guy I ever knew; and he was SO much more

-he had a pillow named “hug me” that he literally cuddled with every night when he slept (I liked my “space” while sleeping). He had the same hug me the entire 10 years that I knew him, and from the looks of it, a whole lot of years before that, too. I now cuddle with “hug me” at night and some nights I can even still pick up Chris’ scent.

-he liked his candy to be frozen - the longer they were in the freezer the better. M&M’s, peanut butter cups, chocolate bar - didn’t matter, but it had to be frozen

-he ate his ice cream right out of the container and always used the biggest spoon he could find.

susan buesing:

-he loved general tso’s chicken, hot sauce and potato sticks.

-he once thought about being a history teacher.

-he thought the song thunder road by bruce springstien had the greatest lyrics ever written.

-he could always keep a secret.

-he actually liked weddings.

-he hated getting dressed up.

-he used to chew the side of his mouth when he was thinking.

-he loved music.

-he could find a grateful dead song in everyday.

-he named his dog kylee because it reminded him of jamie’s dog kaya.

-he loved to eat fish.

-he loved mountain dew.

-he used to lift up his shirt and rub his belly when he was really full.

-he never showed up to your house empty handed.

-he could get up early with very little sleep aned still always be energetic and happy.

-he hated driving after his last job before king industries.

-he loved his friends like family and his family like friends.

-he was the kind of guy that would encourage his buddies to make up with their wives rather than feed into the fight.

-he loved food and would try anything new.

-he once had a couch sitting on its arm up in the air for years.

-when he would sing he would look up and close his eyes.

-he used to wear his pants down low.

-the only thing that could ever make him mad were sports, he would have full on fights with the television.

-he would read the daily news or new york post over the local paper.

-he was sensitive. he was a closet romantic.

-he would drive 6 hrs round trip for your kids 2 hr birthday party.

-he was no Bob Villa but he always gave it a good try.

-he actually liked to get his picture taken.

-he was loyal. he and I once went for a run to the beach it stratford, which he would never do with me again, but every morning he would wake up and tell me he got his run in before i woke up and he didn’t need to go with me.

-he always picked good food over sweets.

-his friends wives were always his friends not his friends wives.

-he was one of a kind and he was So much more.

Jim Rueb:

-Kristin - That’s OC for sure !!

-He would move his jaw up and down and in and out….that’s why Z and Gerry had to put braces on his teeth.

-He LOVED to HOLD COURT at every sporting event. He would leave his seat for at least half the game to socialize and B.S. with friends and strangers !!

-He liked his Beer and one of his favorites when we were younger was Pabst Blue Ribbon. OC would say there was nothing like an ICE COLD PBR (in a rusty can).

-OC couldn’t wait until Shane would play in a youth Soccer League, he wanted to Coach his son very badly.

-OC would greet everyone with a “Hey kid, what’s your story” !!!

-OC’s favorite band as a teenager was Motley Crue……..Chris was a rebel and the Crue fit his M.O.

-OC loved his music.

-OC called everyone in Canada SERGE and PIERRE.

-OC loved to yell at DEVILS Goalie Marty Brodeur. Brodeur was one of OC’s most HATED athletes.

-OC HATED Eggs…..only guy I ever knew who wouldn’t eat an Egg Sandwich.

-OC HATED to wear socks !! He is loved by so many, because he gave so much. We love you OC !!

-My last visit to OC’s house before he went in the hospital for the last time. was one that I will never forget. In typical guy fashion, I called Chris and Kristin to tell them that I would be stopping by in 15 minutes. I was driving to Rhode Island from NJ for work and I didn’t want them to go thru any trouble on my behalf….so I didn’t give them any notice (nice guy that I am-lol). I brought Shane a Baseball that was made of rubber and not so soft….and he proceeded to CHUCK IT around the house, at Chris, at me and in pure delight yelling, “CATCH A BALL” !!!! I loved the fact that I was able to bring such chaos into the O’Connor home and then leave them there ducking that Baseball for the rest of the evening(lol). I look back on that day fondly, as it was the last time that I had the chance to speak with OC face to face. I gave him a CD to check out that day called Sixx A.M. featuring Motley Crue bassist Nikki Sixx. Looking back on that moment, Motley Crue was the first ever concert that we saw together in 1985….and a Motley Crue band member CD was the last piece of music that exchanged hands between my best friend and I…..

-He was a guy who called my Mother MOM

-he was a VERY GOOD Soccer Goalie and went on to play Soccer in College, every Saturday Morning in the Fall and Winter we would play Street Hockey and then head to our favorite pizzeria in Brentwood NY…TONY’S PIZZA.

-Chris liked Heineken when we went to concerts

-OC made me drink IRON CITY beer when we went to Pittsburgh on a hockey road trip…he said it would get us in good with the locals.

-Chris had a scar on his knee from when I fouled him in my bedroom while we were playing a little indoor basketball.

-Some of OC’s best buds on Long Island were Chris “Bam Bam” Kemp, Mike Hussey, Ralph Napolitano, Dave Ramirez, Joe Mooney and a slew of other Brentwood guys that were always happy to have him around.

-Chris like to give people NICKNAMES….some of the people that come to mind were named Ay Yay, White Castle, Wilber, Carl Yzerman, Dicky Boy, McCocken, Rat Boy, Pebbles (Bam Bam’s Brother), Fonzi, the Bear and Nester !!

-OC liked Beefaroni in a can, he liked sunglasses

-he liked his Giants hat and his Mets hat

-his chest hair could be seen sticking out of the top of his shirt

-he named his cars Sexy Silver, Big Blue and a few other names

-he once crashed his car into the back of my van

-he let female dancers put makeup on him at my Brother In Law’s Bachelor Party

-he caught the Garter Belt at my wedding AND my brothers wedding

-he loved 1980’s obscure Hair Metal bands like Black N Blue, Keel and Dokken

-his nose would get burned when he was out in the sun for 10 minutes

-he liked Potatoes Au Gratin

-and he was the Best Friend that I ever had, ever will have and ever want to have !!!

Tate:

-Where do I begin…My brother did such a nice job reminiscing on majority of the family events. As Jay said, I too am devastated that I did not have more time to spend with Chris. Ten years was way too short.

-My first memory of Chris was going to his apartment on King street to take care of the dog while they were away. I remember seeing all the mountain dew cans around the house, the blankets thrown about, clothes placed here and there and remember saying to myself “my sister stays here?…She might marry him?” Of course she stayed there and of course she married him, why wouldnt she. Chris was her everything, he was one in a million.

-Ill never forget all the “contraption” sandwiches he offered me: beets on rye bread, pickles on flat bread, and of course anchovies on wheat.

-He was always so young at heart. He loved to dance around with Shane even when Shane was a baby Chris would swing him around in his arms. Chris loved to dance (especially to the wiggles).

-I remember all the weddings he attended with us. He was always on the dance floor and he danced like no one else was out there.

-Then of course there were our conversations about “cheesie” (i’ll leave that alone).

-I will always remember Chris standing with Timmy (and I can’t think of his other cousins name…theres just too many) holding a beer in their hand standing in front of the patio singing their all time favorite Irish song…a TRUE Irish man.

-Of course our family trip to Wildwood. Him and Jay sneaking out for those margaritas and their nightly DQ blizzards…he cheated at mini golf one night (if you asked him hed say he won…but he didn’t).

-Although I never got to experience any sports games or concerts with him, I got to experience his love for them at the house. I can still smell the potato skins cooking, hear the game in the background, see Chris with his glass of mountain dew in his hand standing next to the table eating his all time fav chips and dip I hear him yelling and talking over the game. I’d do anything to have one more of those games.

-As everyone has said I can go on and on. Chris was one in a million and I was blessed the day he entered my sisters life. He loved my sister so much and treated her like a princess, and trust me, he was her prince charming. I am fortunate to have had him in my life and to call him my brother.

Lin:

-It’s been noted here that Chris loved to read, but no one has gone on and on about how MUCH he loved to read. There were always big thick boring books with tiny print around the house — books about Presidents (John Quincy Adams, Abraham Lincoln), the Civil War, politics, sport figures, even some classic literature. He read everything. When Shane was younger he was always pulling Chris’s bookmarks out of those books. I don’t know how Chris ever managed to find his place again — all those pages with no pictures all looked the same to me! Chris and I once had a conversation, well before he got sick, and he told me he hoped “heaven was a library”. Can I tell you how many times I have prayed for that wish to be true for him since July 16?

Jay Grimes:

-I know I can speak for my whole family when I say I feel extremely deprived to have only known Chris for less than 10 years.

-My memory will never be as sharp as his was, but even still I can recite as many amazing memories that I shared with him as I have with many of my closest friends whom I’ve known for equal if not greater amounts of time.

-I consider myself extremely lucky to be a part of those Giants games over the past 3-4 years. In my whole life I’ve probably been to 8 or 9 Giants games, 7 or 8 of those had been with Chris. I wouldn’t trade those mornings of meeting at the house by 6am to get to the gate before the parking attendants for anything in the world.

-Then there were all the Giants games that we didn’t go to, but still got together at the house for. Those days always included cold beer, chips with dip, buffalo wings, potato skins, and plenty of good sports talk.

-We had some great times at a few Yankees and Mets games, and there should have been several more to come.

-Nothing will ever beat our baseball-palooza event. What a day that was.

-As far as concerts go - well unfortunately I only had the opportunity for one. It was that DreamTheater concert at Radio City that Jim has already mentioned as being a memorable one.

-Chris and I could always talk music.

-I got to experience a number of weddings with Chris, usually tagging along with he and my sister as the third wheel but they never did care. Chris and Meg’s, Mike and Nikki’s, Katie and Jim’s most have been in there as well. All amazing times.

-I never had the chance to get to a Rangers game with him, but we did have those SoundTigers games.

-I will never forget the family vacation to Wildwood where we managed (on a number of times) to sneak away for margaritas or DQ blizzards. I haven’t been able to have a blizzard since he’s passed. Crazy huh?

-Thanksgiving day was spent outside deep-frying the turkey, regardless of how rough the weather might have been.

-Aside from all these good times, there were also those times where the tough projects had to get done. Anyone who knew Chris would politely agree that he never had much patience when it came to those projects. Even still, he was always the first to offer his help. These will always be great memories for me - putting up the fence in the front yard, building Shane’s jungle jim, moving me from Naugatuck to Milford, helping with the renovations at my house. I’m sure there are several more such events.

-Like everyone else here, I can go on for hours. All of this within less than 10 years time. I have been very fortunate to have known Chris and to have called him my brother.

James Buesing:

-OC and I once drove from Colorado to New Jersey non-stop on No-Doz and large coffee’s to see a Grateful Dead cover band. We got to the bar and of course the band had taken the night off…in hindsight, maybe we should have called.

-During that Colorado trip, Oc, Sean Muldowney and I hiked up the side of some mountain, I think it was Bushkill Falls, after the hike we read the sign at the bottom that warned us only hikers with professional gear etc. should attempt to maneuver the falls. I remember one line read, “hikers are seldom given a second chance.” In hindsight, probably should have read that first…

-the next day we hiked a couple of miles to an open field where we got a glimpse of how people used to live in the area before there were cars. It was one of the coolest feelings to be there, truly a sight to see, a beautiful day, a beautiful view. We hiked to a small cabin where we found one of those books you could sign your name in, tell people where you were from and describe your day etc…we hung there until the snow flurries rolled in. 3 minutes later those flurries turned into a total white out, we couldnt see 2 feet in front of our own faces, couldnt see the trees unless you were right up on them, couldnt see down to our feet to see our tracks in the snow we had left on the way in, we were dressed for an early afternoon hike, moderate temps..sweats and sweatshirts. Truly a case of when good vacations go bad. Would have made great clip on Worlds most Shocking Videos or something. In hindsight…probably should have checked the weather.

-The next day the three of us headed out in mighty maroon for a night or 2 in Vegas. Along the way we picked up one of Sean’s buddy’s and drove him to either Aspen or Vail, vague memory of the town, what I do remember was it was the worst snow storm ever! Dumping snow, OC had a grip on the wheel so tight I thought he might bend the wheel in half. Picture that grip, his chin over the wheel, nose to the windshield, he’s so stressed he’s barely uttering a word…total focus, I remember coming down this hill, a hill steeper than any hill I’d ever driven down, its covered in snow and its slippery, I remember being thrilled I wasnt driving yet wishing I was.

-As much as I love the guy, OC was no Jimmy Johnson…one day in New Haven on a snowy day we were coming down Ella T Grasso Blvd…we were heading down a slight hill toward a light and it started to turn red. He puts on the brakes and we 360 our way clear through the intersection avoiding any contact from oncoming traffic and somehow avoided slamming into the cars parked on the roadside too.

-Then there was the time he drove us into and over the black asphalt curb/island, we bounced so high off the seats we smashed our heads on the roof… then there was the time I sat and watched him trying to get out of our driveway, he’d pull forward and hit the bumper of the car owned by the guy who played noseguard for Southern Connecticuts football team, then back into the fence, forward into the noseguards car, back into the fence…this cycle continued until i went down the stairs and backed him out to the center of the driveway, from there he was able, barely, but able to continue on his way. In hindsight, probably shouldnt have let him drive away that day, I mean you gotta figure if he cant K-turn his way our of our driveway maybe I should have thought twice…

-The day before we were leaving Colorado we had a conversation about needing to get wiper fluid for the ride since he had used it all during the ride through the storm a day before. In the interim he said he would put a little water in it. Flash forward we are on our way and we are in need of that fluid while driving through melting snow heading through Ohio. Problem is he pulls the lever and no fluid. We pull into the station and he buys and pours 2 gallons of fluid into the resevoir. By the time he gets the 2nd bottle poured in, the first one is leaking from under the car and running toward our feet. Turns out he put too much water in the resevoir tank, it froze, cracked and all the fluid we just poured in spilled on the pavement from under the hood. Needless to say he was trilled with the fact the tank had broken, the fluid spilled to the ground, money completely wasted, and a long time in the car as it was. In a moment of desperation he grabs the squeegie and we head for the hills. We spend the rest of the time with one guy driving, the other guy leaning out the side of the car pulling a squeegie across the windshield so we could have a clear field of vision even if only for a brief moment. Hard to imagine a 5 day stretch like that.

-There were so many more just like it. Eventually I will tell Kristin and Shane them all.

-We lived together for the most part for a little bit more than a decade, we never had an argument…never. He was the easiest person in the world to get along with.

-He was the best friend.

-He loved the Giant games, mostly the tailgating, the time spent with the 20-30 friends who we gathered with. He loved getting the family together.

-His bachelor party in Vegas was a string of days every one of us who attended re-run in our minds often. Family, friends and the sports book at the Mirage…he was in his glory. Jim Reub hits a slot for 400 before he even checks in, if that wasnt lucky enough he hits a trifecta of horses and pulls in over 1500, which he then proceeds to hand out hundred by hundred to the group, we were taking the casino by storm we thought. That first night lasted 20 hrs I think…

-We once got escorted by security for our safety out of the hockey Arena in Philadelphia, Jim, OC and I after Jagr beat the flyers 1 minute and 5 seconds into overtime. Maybe it was OC yelling at Flyers fans that Lindross had Messiers poster on his wall, then again maybe it was Jim launching that obnoxious guy 6 rows down the steps at games end. Either of those 2 could have been it.

-He loved the Ranger games and the trips to Canada with the Reub brothers.

-He loved his music,

-he loved his life,

-he loved his wife,

-he adored his son Shane.

-He loved hot sauce, he used to put it on EVERYTHING, bought it at costco by the gallon. Then one day he quit it cold turkey.

-I remember the first time I saw him watch the TV with his head turned to the side.

-I remember the day he walked into my apartment on fitch street looking for a room to rent.

-I remember all the good times we shared. I live them in my head every day, it helps me deal, it helps me heal. I miss him more than I could have imagined.

-He was my best friend, he was so much more…

I want to be sure that everyone reads the “who he was” post from Saturday.  I especially want to be sure that everyone reads all the comments that were left by Chris’ best friends.  And I’d love for anyone who has anything to add, to leave a comment and add it.  This is the kind of post that I easily could’ve gone on writing for days (and did!) and his friends have told me the same.  There are already more things I want to add.  I would love for this post to end up in Shane’s book - so that Shane has all these memories of who his dad was.  I know you all have things you could add, too.  Please take the time to do so.

I was telling my therapist on Saturday how important it is for me to have people understand the kind of guy we lost.  I didn’t just lose my husband.  Shane didn’t just lose his daddy, the O’Connor’s didn’t just lose their son and brother.  Jamie and Jim didn’t just lose their best friend.  This guy was TRULY one of a kind.  He is THE loss.  The one loss that none of us ever wanted to experience.  His presence will be missed for DECADES to come.  I brush my teeth and I miss him - he was just THAT guy.  It’s almost impossible to justify this kind of loss, to explain to people just who is now gone from our lives.  It’s just not the kind of thing you get over.  You don’t get over losing a guy like OC.  You just don’t.

**Edited to add that I often forget about the loss my own family is dealing with.  I think because I’m with them so often, and I just assume they know all of my thoughts and feelings - I often just overlook acknowledging them, assuming that they already know what I would’ve said anyway.  But on July 16th, my mom and brother were in that ICU room with the rest of us when Chris died (my sister would’ve been, but someone had to be with Shane) - and just before 11pm that night, my mom lost a son and my brother and sister lost a brother.  Their loss is just as real, and their pain is just as raw, as everyone else’s.    I know Chris’ extended family (cousins, aunts, uncles, friends) are also still feeling the loss just as strongly today as they were 3 months ago.  I suppose there isn’t anyone who’s path he crossed that isn’t affected by his absence - he truly was one of a kind.  I’m lucky to be able to call him my husband.

-he was the life of the party

-he loved being the center of attention

-he was a hard worker.  Dedicated.  Committed.  He had a good job, worked for a good company, and he knew it.  It was something he never took for granted.  He never complained about taking on extra shifts or covering for someone who was out.  In his mind, it was overtime - which meant more money.  Taking care of his family, and being someone his company could rely on, those were his top priorities.  He didn’t even mind going in on the occasional Saturday.

-he liked to sleep on his side

-he was a guy’s guy

-he loved horror movies

-his favorite part of going to a movie theater was the popcorn

-he always danced like no one was watching (and had even more fun when he knew someone was)

-he watched tv with his body facing one direction and his eyes another (you’d have to see it to imagine it)

-he was a die hard NY sports fan (Giants, Rangers, Mets) and was a true fan even when it was embarrassing to be one

-he loved his music.  ALL kinds of music.  Oldies, reggae, alternative, hard rock, heavy metal, even broadway show tunes and kids soundtracks (Wiggles, anyone?!) - but nothing, NOTHING, could match his love for the Grateful Dead

-his favorite TV show was SuperNatural, though he would never have admitted that.  If asked, he would’ve claimed BookTV or SportsCenter

-he was never a big fan of the beach, neither was I.  It’s part of the reason we did Disney World for our honeymoon.

-he was right handed, but left brained.

-he was a complete gentleman on our first date, but all bets were off by our second

-his cologne of choice was HUGO - Boss.  That scent can still make me weak in the knees.

-he loved the color green

-he looked awesome in red

-he hated when his hair got long, because it would get curly (I LOVED those curls)

-he took his coffee with milk and sugar, and he preferred it to be hazelnut flavored so long as it was fresh brewed that way and not flavored with syrup.

-he was never very patient when it came to hooking up electronics or putting together furniture or toys.  The quicker it was done, the better.  If it didn’t “hold” - he’d worry about it later.

-he knew how to live.  He lived the way people are meant to live.  I learned a LOT from him about life.  We’ve only got one shot at this ride.

-he made fun of Starbucks and of my “fancy” coffee drinks.  This guy liked things simple.

-he once told me, when we first started dating, that the scratches on the top of his car (Mighty Maroon, as he called her) were from when he and Jamie were driving to Colorado and got attacked by a mountain lion.  I believed him.  It wasn’t until YEARS later that I learned the scratches were actually from his chosen method of cleaning snow off the roof of his car . . . a shovel.

-he hated to shave, and never saw the point.  He’d shave in the morning and would have a 5 o’clock shadow by lunch.

-he was the funniest guy I knew.  Our entire relationship was filled with laughter.  VERY rarely was there ever a raised voice - and if there was it was always mine.

-he graduated Southern CT State University with a BA in Communications.  He always said he should’ve waited and “done” college in his 30’s - he would’ve gotten a lot more out of it and would’ve graduated with a degree to teach history.

-he was obsessed with brushing his teeth

-he was meticulous about trimming his ear and nose hairs (he’d kill me for telling you that)

-he had a heart shaped patch of hair in the center of his lower back.  Oddly, I could’ve stared at it for hours - I found it that endearing!

-he LOVED to read books.  History books and biographies to be specific.  We have bookshelves full of them.  He belonged to every (BORING) book club imaginable (The History Book Club, Military Book Club, Quality Paperback BookClub) - it was insane actually.

-he LOVED his magazines.  He subscribed to all the usual suspects; NewsWeek, US News & World Report, TIME, Sports Illustrated and he even subscribed to magazines I didn’t even know existed; Civil War Times, for example.

-he LOVED snuggling on the couch on weekends - either during Shane’s nap time or after he was in bed for the night - and watching all the shows we had recorded during the week.  We both preferred that to going out to bars or a party.  It was our time.  We cherished it.

-he HATED watching TV in bed.  He could never get comfortable.

-he’d go out during snowstorms and shovel 4-5 times, so as not to have to deal with a foot (or more) of snow in one shot.

-he enjoyed mowing the lawn in the summer.  He liked the sense of accomplishment and it made him feel good to know he was responsible for the yard looking nice.

-he helped me clean the house all the time and NEVER complained and he often did it without my asking

-his favorite chore was cleaning the windows

-he always took the cars in to get the oil changed and always filled them up with gas.  Filling the car with gas also meant resetting the trip odometer (something I still do, because I know it would make Chris smile).  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve almost run out of gas since Chris went into the hospital.  I’ve had to leave notes reminding me to fill the tank.

-he did the laundry more than I did.  Washed, dried, folded.  All I ever did was put it away.

-his favorite meal was chicken piccata, but his favorite food was potato chips and onion dip

-his favorite drink - Snapple iced tea

-his favorite alcoholic drink - g00d old beer, or  a margarita at Chuck’s

-he loved going to the Giants’ games with Jamie and Dan and the Rangers’ games with Jim.  To him, it was always more about being able to spend time with his friends than it was the actual game - that was secondary.

-he was the KING of concerts.  Never met one he didn’t like!

-he loved to poke fun.  Never to be mean, always to get a laugh.

-he was sarcastic and he “got” my sarcasm.

-he loved to help people.  He was always the first in line to offer up what he had to give, even if it was the shirt off his back.

-he loved animals.  We rescued two dogs from a shelter and they both always loved him best.

-he loved his family and there was rarely a family get together he missed.  He loved spending time with everyone and hearing all the stories from “back in the day”.  He also loved to retell those same stories.

-he was straight forward.  There was no beating around the bush.  He told it like it was.

-he was great at putting people at ease.

-he was strong and full of energy, yet he was so gentle.  He treated Shane and I like gold.  To Chris, we were so delicate and had to be handled so carefully.

-he was every bit the man I wanted to marry and never thought I’d find.  He was the same man in public as he was behind closed doors.  He was never afraid for the world to see how deeply in love we were.

-he always made me feel like I was the only woman in the room.  Scratch that, the world.

-he was the world’s greatest dad.  Chris and Shane did more together in the 3 short years they had than a lot of dad’s do with their kids in a lifetime.  There was nothing in life he wanted more than to be a dad, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t have done for Shane.

-he loved his family - more than life.  And he would’ve done anything for anyone.

And he was SO much more.

He’s been gone three months today.  Feels more like 3 years since I last held his hand and at the same time I still expect him to walk through the door at the end of the day.  And, ironically, THIS is what I posted on the blog a year ago today.  It was start of the worst year of our lives.  The year that Chris would fight for, and lose, his life.  The year I had to bury my husband.  The year our 3 year old had to learn about the permanency of death.  It’s not right.  None of it should have been.  I hate this new life.  HATE it.

Life doesn’t stop just because you’re grieving.  There’s no “time out” to allow whatever healing process there is time to kick in.  It just continues.  It goes on around you as it would any other day.  And sometimes you have no other choice but to roll with the punches.

I was driving home last night, after having picked Shane up from daycare, and as we were coming around by the park I was noticing the men playing softball and thinking how back in the day that would’ve been Chris and Jim playing.  The next second I realize that my EZ-Pass, which is usually on my windshield, is sitting in my lap and that Shane is in the backseat crying and asking me “what dat is, what dat is, mommy?”.  It took me a second to put all the pieces together (no pun intended) and then I realized my windshield was shattered - like little shards of glass inside my car shattered.  A friggin softball came over the fence after being hit and completely shattered my window!

I pull into the gas station, not really knowing what to do (this was always Chris’ domain) and I called the insurance company.  Come to find out, our friggin deductible is higher than what the cost of replacing the windshield would be.  Thankfully, the awesome insurance agent told me just to call a repair guy directly, tell them I wanted a cash quote due to a high deductible and that I should be set.  She even gave me the numbers of a few places to call.

So now, I call one of the glass shops (I chose the one whose name I knew), to arrange the replacement.  My 3 year old is sitting in the backseat yelling and carrying on, asking why I’m not “going” and still asking “what dat is, mommy?”  I can’t let him out of his carseat because I know he’ll climb up front and I can’t let him do that with a shattered windshield and with little pieces of glass around.  I can’t get out of the car to make these calls because then he’ll just yell and cry louder.   Knowing I still have to call AAA to arrange to tow the car back home (the repair place will come to the house to replace the windshield), I decide my best bet is to take him out of his carseat and hop into the back with him.

My ends are quickly starting to fray at this point, and luckily, this is when my superhero (thanks, Mom!) shows up to rescue us!  I hand Shane off to her and finish the call with AAA.  I’m told I should have a tow truck to me in under an hour - it’s now 5:39.

A few minutes before 7:30, the tow truck finally pulls into the gas station.  Luckily, by now, my other superhero (thanks, Kate!) showed up to grab Shane and bring him home.  The driver gets out of the tow truck and seems surprised to see me standing in front of a Honda Pilot - AAA had told him it was a Honda Accord!  I can tell by the look on the guys face that this was not good.  He told me he can’t put a Pilot on his truck because it’s 4 wheel drive.  The back wheels will continue to spin and the car will fall off the truck.  We needed a flat bed to tow the car home!  At this point, I’m considering taking a risk and driving the car home myself - I was so fed up at this by now, but luckily, there was a flat bed right down the street and within 10 minutes, my car was loaded up and ready to go.

We got home a little before 8.

Normally, things like what happened last night wouldn’t have bothered me.  I would’ve called Chris at work, he would’ve told me what to do (or he would’ve left to come and “relieve” me), he would’ve comforted me and told me that this was nothing and all would’ve been well in the world.  But life isn’t normal right now.  And I couldn’t call Chris.  So I cried instead.  I’m just not in a place right now where I can easily deal with things like this.  I need my days to go as I’ve planned them.  I crave that structure and organization right now.  It keeps me grounded.

Mom, thanks for coming and sitting with me for so long.  Thanks for listening to my rants.  Thanks for keeping Shane occupied (and alive) while I made my calls and spent some time feeling sorry for myself.  Thanks for rescuing me once again.  Thanks for not complaining about your life getting screwed up because mine so badly is.  Thanks for always being there.

Kate, thanks for picking up Shane and for taking him home.  Thanks for giving him his bath, getting him in his pj’s and giving him his supper.  Thanks for feeding the dogs, for washing their bowls and for letting them out.  Thanks for finishing up the recovery CD’s on the computer for me.  Thanks for cleaning the dog poop off the bottom of Shane’s new winter Crocs.  Thanks for always being there.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, it’s truly because of family and friends that I’m even able to function sometimes.  I’d be lost without any of you.

And because of last night, I now know it’s possible (just not easy) to grieve and live - all at the same time.

The bigger Shane gets, and the more personality I see in him; the more I see his Dad.  And the more at peace my heart feels.

Shane not knowing his Dad was Chris’ biggest fear (and now it’s mine), it’s the main reason he didn’t want to lose his fight to cancer.  He wanted to thrive and to win so that he’d be a part of Shane’s future - not just a part of his past.

Since Chris died, all I can think about is how heartbroken I am for the two of them.  That Chris’ worst fear came true and that Shane is forced to grow up without that male role model in his life.  Honestly, it plain old pisses me off.

But as I see all of these pieces of Chris emerging from Shane, the weight on my heart gets a little bit lighter.  How can he not know his Dad, when he IS his dad?  His personality IS his dad’s.  His desire to get up and dance and to be the life of the party - his dad.  His NEED to be the center of attention and to have all eyes on him - his dad.  His sweet and affectionate disposition - his dad.  He’s all his dad.  And I fall a little more in love with both of them everyday because of that.  Because of DNA.

Today Jerry and Zita leave for Florida.  They close on their new home in a few weeks and they’ll finally be able to start over.  A fresh start.  A clean slate.  But one that doesn’t include their son.

They pulled into our driveway on October 10, 2008, and today, just a few days over a year later, they’ll pull out for the last time.

This last year was the worst year of our lives. The absolute worst.  We got through it because we had each other.  And now they’re moving on.  And, if I’m being honest, I’m terrified of what life is going to be like without all of them.  I’m scared to do this alone.  In a year we lost not only Chris, but our biggest connection to him, too.    Every day is a struggle.  Every day is hard.  And while life with all of us under one roof wasn’t always easy, it was safe.  There’s safety in numbers.  It’s hard to feel alone when you’re living with people who know exactly how you feel.  Because they feel it too.

Today is a new start for all of us.  While I certainly wish they were moving into a condo in CT instead of one in FL, I’m happy for them.  And I’m grateful.

Jerry and Zita - thank you for giving up a year of your lives to help us fight.  Thank you for being there to help pick up the pieces after the worst journey any of us have ever been on.  Thank you for staying as long as you did.  Know how much we love you.  And how much we’re going to miss you.  Life will never be the same for any of us.  We’re here for you always, and I know the same is true for you as well.  We’re family.  Nothing can change that.

We spent the weekend in PA with Jamie & Sue and the kids (thanks mom for watching the girls!) to celebrate all the Buesing birthdays and to try to escape from what I knew would be a difficult weekend.

One of the great things about being with these guys is being able to watch Shane have the time of his life.  There aren’t many kids at home, that we see often, that are his age that he’s able to play with.  The Buesing kids are quite literally the siblings that Chris and I weren’t given the time to give him.  We had gone through the entire infertility work-up and were about to sit down with the doctor to see what our next steps would be when Chris was diagnosed (which makes the last year just that much more painful).  So seeing him with the 3 Buesing kids warms my heart.  Chris brought Jamie & Sue into his life LONG ago, I often wonder if the bigger picture was in the works, even back then. 

These guys have a ball together.  They play, they laugh, they share, they fight.  True siblings.  I hate the reason we’ve all been brought together like this, but seeing as how I can’t change what was happened, I wouldn’t trade what has come out of it for anything. 

Dance Mania

Hard to believe that just last year, on this very same day, I wrote THIS, and that today I celebrate our 5th wedding anniversary alone.

Five years ago I woke up in my old bedroom at my mom’s house.  I sat up in bed and felt the butterflies that had already taken residence in my belly.  I was so gloriously happy that morning.  I remember talking to you on the phone, just after having gotten my hair done.  I remember you telling me how excited you were for that day.  I remember telling each other how much we loved one another and that we couldn’t wait to have the ceremony be over and to get started with the rest of forever.  It was truly blissful.

I remember standing at the back of that church that afternoon, my uncle at my side, seeing you standing at the front, surrounded by our closest friends and family, waiting for me - waiting for our new life.  The butterflies were suddenly gone.  I was calm.  Relaxed.  I was so in love with you that day.  More that day than any day before.  And little did I know, I would grow to love you even more as the days to follow came and went.

I finally reached you at the altar.  I finally had your hand in mine.  I finally made it to the moment we had both been waiting our whole lives for.  And in true OC fashion, you leaned over and whispered in my ear that I was late.  Fifteen minutes late to be exact.  And that Sue’s water had finally broken and that not only was today the day we would finally be husband and wife, but it was also the day your best friend would become a dad.  I loved you so much at that moment.  I loved you for being you.  I loved you for making me laugh.  I loved you for what we were about to become - husband and wife.

And now, technically, I’m not even married anymore.  In the eyes of the law, I’m a single woman.  A single mother.  A widow.  Yet I don’t feel like any of those things.  I feel like your wife.  My rings haven’t left my finger once since you’ve died.  Your ring sits on a chain around my neck.  I think it’s unfair for some law to try to take that away from me.  You are my husband.  For now.  For always.

Today should’ve been celebrated big.  We would’ve taken advantage of the LONG weekend and we would’ve skipped town for a few days.  We probably would’ve headed up to one of our little inns in VT.  Knowing us, we probably would’ve had Shane and the dogs in tow - there wasn’t much we did by ourselves.  All we wanted was to be a family, and we took every chance we had to do just that.

Instead, today I will go to the store to pick up some flowers and I will lay them down at your grave.  I’ll sit, or lay, with you for a while and together we’ll enjoy the quiet of the cemetery.  Tears will fall from my eyes and maybe, if I concentrate really hard, I’ll feel the faintest touch of your warm hand brushing the tears away.  You wouldn’t want me to be upset.  Not on this day.   I’ll then pry myself up off the ground and make myself live the day that I’m faced with instead.  A day without you.  A day without your arms around me, without your hand entwined in mine.  A day without my best friend.  My soul mate.  My life’s companion.  But the day will be spent celebrating us.  Celebrating our 5 wonderful years of marriage, and our 5 years of dating before that.  The day will be spent celebrating our love and what we meant to each other.

I will celebrate this day for the rest of my life.  It is OUR day.  I will ALWAYS be your wife and you will ALWAYS be my husband, regardless of what the law states.  You will ALWAYS be the love of my life.  The ONE person that I was meant to spend eternity with.  No matter what the future holds, you where the one I chose.  I chose you first and I’d choose you last.  I’d choose you 100x over, even knowing what I know now.  I wouldn’t dare trade in our 10 glorious years for what I’m feeling now.  The heartache and the pain are worth it.  They were worth getting 10 years of perfection.  A perfect love.  A perfect life.  We’re apart, not by choice, but by a power greater than us - one I choose not to try to understand.

Happy Anniversary, my love.  I miss you.  I love you.  Always.

Your wife

xoxo

About a week ago, when he was supposed to be sleeping, Shane would get out of bed and come find me in the family room.  He’d walk over to me and hop up into my lap and tell me, in his little 3-year old voice, that he missed his daddy and wanted him back home at Shane’s house.  The first time I heard him say those words it broke my heart and I immediately burst into tears.

In this last week, he’s asked about you more and more.  Telling me, many times throughout the day, that he misses his daddy.  Each time, I pull him onto my lap and try to explain to him why you can’t come home.  Why he’ll never be able to see his Daddy again.  How do I explain that to a 3-year old?  How do I explain something I don’t really understand myself?

This morning, when I dropped Shane off at daycare, I asked Robyn if Shane talks about his Daddy at all . . . “all the time” she said.  More so lately, but all the time.  My heart shattered into a million little pieces all over her kitchen floor.  Our little boy deserves to have his Daddy in his life.  You were a one in a million dad - that kind that doesn’t come around nearly often enough.  It kills me that he won’t have you to learn from and grow up with.  I don’t understand any of this.  I don’t understand why you were taken and why we’re left here to grieve.

As I pulled out of the driveway after dropping him off, Shane stood in the window, like he has so many times before, waving goodbye with his little 3-year old hand with tears falling from his eyes.  This isn’t the way this was supposed to be.  None of this is how it was supposed to be.

As I pulled away from Robyn’s house this morning, my heart broke again.  I think it’s past the point of repair right now.

I found this poem on another, young, widow’s blog and it hit home for me:

Please, don’t ask me if I’m over it yet.
I’ll never be over it.

Please, don’t tell me he’s in a better place.
He isn’t with me.

Please, don’t say at least he isn’t suffering.
I haven’t come to terms with why he had to suffer at all.

Please, don’t tell me you know how I feel
Unless you have lost a spouse, it’s not possible.

Please, don’t ask me if I feel better.
Bereavement isn’t a condition that clears up.

Please, don’t tell me at least you had him for so many years.
What year would you choose for your spouse to die?

Please, don’t tell me God never gives us more than we can bear.
Please, just tell me you are sorry.

Please, just say you remember my husband, if you do.
Please, just let me talk about him.

Please, mention his name.
Please, just let me cry.

-author unknown

It helps to talk about Chris and to hear stories. It’s nice to still hear his name mentioned in our home. The pictures on every inch of available wall space bring me comfort. I don’t EVER want someone to feel that they can’t talk about Chris around me - it’s just the opposite. And, yes, I might cry - but the fact is, I was going to cry anyway.

Chris is a HUGE loss for a lot of us. His death isn’t something that I’m going to feel better about in a year. His presence in my life changed me, he made me a better person (that’s one of the reasons I married him!) - now that he’s gone, and gone so tragically, that’s affected me, too. I’m, again, a different person. I can’t ever be the same Kristin I was a year ago. My hope is that, one day, I can move on from here and be better than I am now, because I HAD Chris in my life. But I’ll never again be as good as I was when I did have him.

Being allowed to grieve, and being able to talk about Chris are GOOD things. They make me feel like he really was here - that I didn’t dream up the last 10 glorious years of my life.

Grief is what it is. It’s a long process. I don’t think there’s ever an end to it either, I think it just becomes part of life.

The day I’ve been dreading.  The end of this week marks, what would’ve been, our 5 year wedding anniversary.  My first, of many, obstacles to have to overcome.  I don’t want to face it.  I don’t want to face reality.  I want to hide in a hole and pretend that all is well in my world.  Maybe if I wish hard enough that card from Chris will still land in my hands Friday morning.  I hate this new life.  I hate that he’s not a part of it.  I hate that this week is here.