I’m being bombarded with memories lately.  Memories of another life.  A different time.  A time when life was good.  And happy.

This past Sunday was Palm Sunday.  Everywhere I turned someone was mentioning the day and each time I heard “Palm Sunday” I felt my body cringe and I wanted to run to the nearest hiding spot and take cover.  Chris was obsessed with the Grateful Dead.  LOVED them.  And one of their songs was a song titled “Palm Sunday”, and in true OC fashion, he would reference the song a lot on each and every “Palm Sunday”.  If I close my eyes I can still hear him singing “. . . must be Palm Sunday again”.

It was on Good Friday, in 2002, that we first painted the first room in what would become our first (and only) home.  Currently, the room is Shane’s playroom, but 8 years ago it was our formal living room.  It was the first time we had non-white walls.  We painted that room “Honey Moth” by Behr.  It’s a gorgeous, non-offensive, yellow color.  Chris repainted that room 5 years later when Shane was an infant.  Same color, same finish.

I remember Shane’s first Easter, he was almost a year old - it was his last “first” before he turned 1.  I remember Chris and Shane sitting on the floor in the playroom going through the Easter basket filled with puffs, bath toys, a bathing suit and matching hat.  I remember that year we spent Good Friday coloring Easter eggs, and that quickly became our new Good Friday tradition.  Who know that tradition would only last 3 years.

I still have a hard time believing that he’s really gone.  That the three of us will never again make a new memory.  Our life together is all in the past.  It still doesn’t seem possible.  I still miss him every second of every day.  I love him even more today than I did yesterday, and I know I’ll love him even more tomorrow.  It’s hard to realize how quickly your life can change.  How it can end up being SO very different from where you started or from where you thought you’d end up.  I feel like we deserve so much more than what we got and that makes me angry.  I’m angry for all of us.  For what will never be, but should’ve been.

This morning, as is typical with most mornings, Shane was sitting in my bed eating his cereal and watching a cartoon, while I was getting dressed.

I had gotten up later than usual this morning (I hit the snooze button one too many times) and was frustrated with all that I still had to do and how little time I had to do it in.

I sat down on the floor in front of my closet, hastily looking for a specific pair of shoes.  My hair kept falling in my face, which was annoying me even more, so I grabbed the hair elastic from around my wrist and quickly tied my hair back in a knot.  I remember thinking to myself “and now the ten minutes I spent drying my hair was a waste of time” and just as I finished the thought, Shane jumped down off of my bed, likely to “help” me locate my shoes in the closet, took one look at me and said “Mommy, your hair is BOOTIFUL!!!”  My heart sank.  He meant it, I know he did.  He’s always telling me “I don’t like that hair” when I wear my hair down.  He likes my hair tied back (that statement tells you a lot about what my appearance must be like most of the time!)  Immediately, all my frustrations and annoyances from the morning were gone.  All of sudden the time on the clock didn’t matter quite as much.  He must’ve told me 4 more times this morning how “bootiful” my hair looked.  Warmed my heart every time.  I thanked my little guy for the compliment and told him I loved him.  He then asked me to fix his “crazy hair” (i.e. bedhead) so that he could have “bootiful” hair, too!

Thank God for Shane.  I’d be so completely lost without that little boy.  He is my lifeline.  Pure and simple.

***And on a side note, HAPPY BIRTHDAY AUNT KATE!!!  We can’t wait to sing “Happy Birthday” and celebrate with some “happy cake” after work/pre-k today!  Enjoy your day - we love you!!!***

Saturday morning Shane and I went to the “quiet park” to visit with Chris.  I had had therapy earlier that morning and wasn’t in the “best” of places.  This last week had been rough, every corner I turned and every door I opened had me missing Chris more and more. 

As we were getting ready to leave and were saying our goodbyes, I started to cry.  Sob, really.  Something I normally won’t allow myself to do when Shane is there.  But that morning, I just couldn’t keep my emotions in check.

Shane saw that I was upset and immediately started with the “don’t cry, Mommy” and “don’t be sad, Mommy”.  He came over to me and reached up to give me a hug.  I picked him up, squeezed him tight and sat him down on top of the headstone.  Shane grabbed hold of my sunglasses, took them off, wiped the tears off my cheeks, looked me square in the eye and while patting the top of the headstone he said, “Daddy’s not here, Mommy.”  I asked him to repeat himself, not quiet sure what his meaning was and again he said, “Daddy’s not here, Mommy” and with that, he took his little hand, pointed his finger up to the sky and said “he’s up there”. 

I don’t know if my little boy, my angel on Earth, came up with that on his own or if my angel above whispered it into his ear - but I also really don’t think it matters.  They are my two angels.  And I’m beyond grateful for them both.

The rest of the day was a little somber for me.  It was a day when not much was going on and no one was around.  Shane was diagnosed with an ear infection earlier that morning and we spent the day, quietly, together.  It was a sad day.  All day long I just felt like something was missing.  I kept waiting for him to walk out the sliding glass door and join us in the backyard. 

I wonder if I’ll ever get used to the idea of never having him join us back there again.

July of 2007.  Notice the beer bottle in Chris’ hand.  I remember this day.  Rich & Lauren were up from FL and Chris had just finished mowing the lawn.  Amazing how quickly things change.

Aunt Trae flew into NY on Friday night to spend the weekend with friends.  On Sunday afternoon, she finally got to CT and we got to spend some quality time with her before she left Tuesday morning.

We went to the “quiet park” to visit Chris, we had “chicks/fries” for dinner,  they played chase out in the back yard and poor Trae had to sleep on the Trundle bed in Shane’s room - and that was all on Sunday!

Monday morning, they dropped me off at work and by the time they came back to get me at 4, they had flowers for me in hand, they were sporting matching sneakers, Shane had a new “Build-A-Bear” friend in the car and we were heading off to Bounce-U for 90 minutes of jumping, climbing and sliding!  It was a busy few days, but having her here is always a special treat.  Tracie and I got a lot closer during our cancer journey with Chris, as did she and Shane, and I’m so thrilled that at least one positive thing could come out of all that we had to go through, and all that we’re going through now.  It’s always a sad day when she has to leave.  It’s comforting to be around her.  It’s comfortable.  And now we miss her even more.

We love you, Trae.  We’re already looking forward to seeing you again.

These two pictures are just snapshots (and bad ones at that), but I wanted to show just how much fun these two had at BounceU:

And a link to a video of the two of them wrestling - CLICK HERE

Poor Aunt Trae!  No wonder she’s so sore!

My beloved photo wall.  My wall of memories.  Moments I treasure.  Even more so now that new ones can’t be made, not in the same way anyway.  While these photos weren’t taken with the phone on my camera (Yeah!), they still weren’t taken with my dSLR, so they are still a long way from being good photos - but it’s enough for you to get the idea.  The wall is in our family from, a room right off the kitchen that once upon a time used to be a carport.  My grandfather transformed the room into a livable space back in the 70’s.

Welcome to our past.

Out of focus, but it gives you an idea for the space.  It’s a long wall.

Still out of focus, a different view.

Baby pictures of our little guy, a snap of my husband serenading me at Jay & Jenny’s wedding, and a snap of us after our own wedding, outside of the Marriott hotel where all of our guests were staying for the night.  I still have my headpiece in.

A couple of my favorite wedding pictures, a few treasured family photos, some more snapshots of our baby boy, a soccer picture of  ”young Chris”, a canvas of Shane and I on the ferry in Hyannis (Cape Cod - 8/08 - what would be our last family vacation), a canvas of Shane on the beach from that same trip, and some photos of Jamie, Sue, Chris and I at a wedding on Block Island.

Some more photos of our little guy, one of our first family photos, my beloved “hat” canvas, another wedding photo, and the picture of Chris and I next the lamp is from our honeymoon to Disney World.  This shot was taken in Epcot.

Quite possibly my favorite section of the wall.

One of my all time favorite pictures of Chris.  Taken during that famous last trip to Cape Cod.  He looks so healthy here.  2 months later he’d be diagnosed with incurable cancer.  These photos are some of our last truly happy memories.  LOVE this canvas.  16×20 and still looks so small on that wall.

LOVE.  This canvas is my heart.  My boys.  My entire world.  Same Cape Cod trip.  20×30 and still dwarfed on this wall.

Treasured memories.

A few more shots of the entire span of the wall.

A recent Etsy purchase, from a great photographer - Susan O’Connor.  LOVE this print.  Love the 2 birds.  Love the pop of color.  Reminds me of our marriage.  Pure.  Simple.  Just the two of us.  The way it should still be.

I’m just coming off of one of the best weekends I’ve had in almost a year and a half, but it was also one of the most emotional ones.  Because of this, and because I don’t think I can handle much more emotion this week, I’m going to try to keep posts on the lighter side for the next few days.

-I’ve FINALLY got some pictures of the completed photo wall to share.

-I’ve got some pictures of some fun times, with great friends, from this past weekend to share.

-Aunt Trae is in town for a few days, so we can re-cap our fun times with her.

-If my cold/sinus infection straightens itself out, I’m DYING to finally meet baby Dylan and hopefully take some pictures of the cutie, along with his big brother, Brady!

-”Flashback Friday” will be a good one this week.  ”Fun in the sun”

Here’s to hoping I can pull this off and keep my emotions in check for a few days!  Back tomorrow with the pictures of the photo wall!

Dylan Michael
Born 3/17/10 at 9:11am
7lbs 9oz
19.5 inches

Congratulations to Kate, Jim and Big Brother Brady!

Today, this morning, right now, my best friend is having a baby.  Her second.  And I’m over-the-moon happy for them!  This hasn’t been an easy pregnancy for her, she’s had to work and endure to keep this baby in and to keep him (or her) safe.  She had her work cut out for her these last 9 months.  And today, finally, she’ll get to meet her newest little one.

I can’t even tell you how lucky this baby is to have this girl as his (or her) mama.  Beyond lucky.  Katie is the one of the sweetest, most loving and most un-selfish people that I know.  She’s been there for me in ways I can’t even describe this last year and half.  She stood behind me (newly pregnant) with her hand on my shoulder, when my husband took his last breathe.  She walked beside me out of that hospital that night, leaving my heart, my husband, my life, behind.  She kept her pregnancy a secret from me for almost 6 weeks because she didn’t want to upset me.  She actually told me she didn’t think it was fair.  Fair that so much good was happening to her and so much bad was happening to me.  She is amazing.

This last week, among fighting the stomach flu, emergency trips to the hospital and getting her little family of 3 ready to become a family of 4, she told me (in no uncertain terms) to stay the hell out of the hospital.   In a moment in time that is supposed to be about her, she’s worried about me.  She’s worried about what walking into that hospital again, after leaving so much of myself behind within those walls, would do to me.  She knew it would be difficult for me.  And she didn’t want me agonizing over the decision, so she made it for me.

That’s the kind of friend this girl is.  So imagine, if you can, the kind of amazing mother she must be.  Her kids are lucky to have her.  And so am I.

Catherine - I’m thinking about you guys today.  I absolutely can not wait to meet your newest little miracle.  I love you.  I feel privileged to call you my friend and blessed to call you my ’sister’.  You are a gift.  You are my person.  And today, you’ll become a new mother.  Again.  How very blessed we are.

With her first miracle, Brady, born September 1, 2008 (back when I using my REAL camera)

I don’t even know what to say anymore.  Eight months.  Feels like a lifetime ago.  I hate that I have such a hard time remembering life before cancer.  That life literally feels like it was another time.  You’ve either been battling cancer, or gone, for a year and a half now.  We lost pieces of you along the way and now all that’s left are memories that are hard to come by.  I still hate life without you and I would still do just about anything to have you back again.  There’s not much I wouldn’t give to be able to spend one more night in your arms.  I hate this day.  I hate all these days.  I wonder if the 16th will ever just be another number again.

My heart still breaks for you when I think of all that you went through.  I still feel like I could vomit when I think back to that last day.  To your last day.  To those final moments.  To how quickly things changed once Jamie walked into that ICU room.  It simply wasn’t supposed to be this way.  You were supposed to beat this thing.  We were supposed to have YEARS of a good life ahead of us.  Shane was supposed to learn so many things from you.  And in 9 short and painful months that was all taken away from us.

I still find myself talking about you nonstop to anyone that will listen and I fear the day when there will be no one left who is willing to do so.  I wake up in the morning, roll over and still find myself surprised that you’re not there. Those first 3 seconds in the morning are my favorite.  They are the only time when I forget.  But that 4th second, the one when I remember, that one is the most painful.

I’m still lonely.  Lonelier than I thought a person ever could be.  I long for you.  My husband.  The person who knows me better than I know myself.  I miss your touch.  Your scent.  Your voice.  I miss your sense of humor.  I miss your sarcastic comebacks.  I miss your one liners.  I miss your stories.  I miss your friendship.  I miss your everlasting love for me.  I miss watching you with our son.  I miss seeing the two of you love each other as you did.  I hate that this is our life now.  I hate feeling so lonely.  And I hate the pain of missing you.

I still struggle with getting out of bed and living the day that lies ahead.  I struggle with finding a way to do that that doesn’t discredit what my life with you means to me.  I don’t want to move forward because moving forward means leaving our life behind and that is not something I’m willing to do.  Ever.

Grief is still part of my everyday.  And I think it always will be.  I hope, in time, the pain will lessen, but it will never be gone.  My desire to have you back will never be gone.  We were meant to be, you and I.  Love is stronger than death.  I know that for certain now.

Once again, I feel the need to borrow that fitting sentiment from your old pal Jerry Garcia:
Such a long long time to be gone and such a short time to be there

I miss you, baby.  And I love you.  Always.

You don’t get over it, you just get through it. You don’t get by it, because you can’t get around it. It doesn’t ‘get better’; it just gets different. Everyday, grief puts on a new face. - Wendy Feiereisen

Found here.  Unfortunately, she knows this journey, too.

Coney Island
Summer of 2007

Both of us!  But for entirely different reasons.  Admittedly, mine are a bit more selfish in nature.

Since starting pre-k last week, there’s been an awful lot of this going on in our world!
(all taken with the camera on my phone - AGAIN)

****I also wanted to comment about the post from yesterday.  I don’t want anyone thinking Shane and I are currently in any kind of financial trouble, we’re not.  Chris’ made sure we’d be taken care of, and barring any unforeseen catastrophes in the near future, we’ll be okay for a while.  It’s just scary to be continually withdrawing money from the one account you have (which just happens to be your dead husband’s life insurance money), not knowing if you’ll ever be able to replenish it and not having anyone else to worry about it with you.  It’s just been a few bad weeks financially and my income isn’t exactly anything to write home about (which speaks to why we qualify for state assisted health insurance) - but we’re able to pay the bills.  As a new widow and mom to a 3 year old, I do a lot of thinking about the future, and finances play into that.  I just wanted to clear that up.  xoxo****

The last few weeks have been the kind that make me question why I do this.  Why I get out of bed and use everything within me to get Shane and I through the day that lies ahead.  Why I struggle to pretend like life is still happy.  Why I paint the smile on my face and practice making my voice sound joyful.  These weeks have made me look at the future and wonder if I can do THIS for the rest of my life.

The grief and raising Shane is all I can handle right now.  My plate is full.  I have TONS of help and support everyday, but my plate is still full.  I don’t have room, energy or strength (emotionally or physically) to deal with anything else.

But the “anything else” keeps coming anyway.

Shane and I are currently on “state assisted” health insurance.  It’s great for him, but it sucks for me.  Not only do none of my existing doctors take this insurance, but the walk-in center I often use doesn’t take it either.  Add to that the fact that there are VERY FEW doctors in the area that do take the insurance, and I’m pretty much left with having to go to the ER everytime I require any kind of medical attention. Two weeks ago I applied for insurance through Aetna for myself.  It’s slightly less affordable than the state assisted insurance, but all my doctors take it.  I learned yesterday that I was declined coverage because of the infertility treatments Chris and I went through.  So not only did I go through all of that invasive medical testing, only to quit when we got the cancer diagnosis, but now that same testing is keeping me from getting health insurance.  And I don’t even have a 2nd baby to show for it.  And the tests all came back clear.  And I was never officially diagnosed as having infertility.  So, yes, I’m appealing the decision - but it’s one more thing to worry about and have to take care of.

Add to that all the money I’ve been purging the last couple months and I totally feel like I’m drowning.  This accident will cost me at least $1,000 ($500 deductible and $500 for the rental) and that’s if my rates don’t go up (for an accident that wasn’t my fault, but apparently was).  I have to pull money out of the life insurance account every month to pay the mortgage - the same mortgage I can’t pay down and refinance on until the probate process is over.  I also just learned, yesterday as well, that the court fees and lawyer fees for the probate process will cost me $3,000 - and I don’t know what else involved in this process will cost me money.  I just feel like it’s a never ending, uphill battle.  And I get that almost everyone out there has similar financial issues, especially in this economy, but most people have their spouse sitting there next to them while they write the checks and wonder where the money for next weeks bills will come from.  And I know, in my head, that it’s not as bad as it sounds.  I know how much worse it could be.  My husband planned ahead, he made sure we’d be okay, he had decent life insurance policies, and yes - we are okay right now, but I’m worried about the future.  Shane’s 3 years old.  With any luck, we’ve got a lot of life ahead of us and probably not enough funds.

These last few weeks have tested me.  And I’m not sure I’ve faired very well.  I am nervous about the future.  About how I’ll do this on my own.  And being nervous on top of being sad is just more than I can handle right now.

I missed my therapy appointment on Saturday.  Actually, it was more like I had to cancel my appointment.  Traffic.  ALL OVER.  Took me 30 minutes to go just a few miles.

I like therapy.  I like that I can go there and talk about Chris for an hour.  I like talking about Chris.  And I feel like I talk about him a lot.  So much so, that I’m afraid that my “people” in my life are going to be tired of talking to me.  I don’t feel that way about my therapist.  Maybe because I actually pay her to listen to me.  I pay her to let me talk about Chris.  She lets me cry.  She lets me cry and she’ll nudge the box of tissues a little closer to me.  She’ll give me a hug.  But she’ll let me cry.  Often, talking about Chris and crying go hand in hand.  And I think that scares a lot of people.  I don’t think people know what to say or how to react when that happens.  But tissues and hugs work.

So I’m sad I missed therapy on Saturday.  Therapy is my “out”.  My “release”.  I can be bitchy and she gets it.  She won’t judge me.  She knows it’s the grief and the pain making me be that way.  She doesn’t expect me to be happy all the time (but she’s thrilled when I am).  She knows my life isn’t all peaches and cream these days.  She’s honest with me.  She doesn’t tell me it’s going to magically get better.  She lets me be honest.  She lets me be me.

This journey is rough - on it’s best days.  I can’t allow myself to think about Chris, or about the future.  Doing so it like falling into a black hole, where you have absolutely no idea where the bottom is.  Actually, I think this whole grief/widowhood journey is like that.  Everyday I fall a little bit further, hoping that eventually I’ll hit the bottom and can finally start trying to claw my way back out - not ever knowing if that will really ever happen.  I try to have faith in the “process”.    I remind myself that others have been on this journey, others are on it with me now.  I remind myself that I’m not alone in how I feel.  And there is some comfort in that.  But when I think about MY loss.  SHANE’S loss.  OUR loss.  Sometimes it just feels so much bigger than me.  I mean it was OC.  OC.  How do you claw your way out after losing someone like that?  You can’t convince me it’s  possible.  And that hurts.  Knowing that this is what life is for me now.  Exhausting.  Scary.  Lonely.  Excruciating.  Filled with more bitchy moments than I’d care to admit.  Not at all what we had envisioned for our future.  How very, very sad it is.  How sad life is.

Thanks to Dan Richards I have yet one more incredible photo of Chris from his childhood soccer days!

Anyone care to guess which one he is?
Hint: he’s the one that looks just like Shane
Double Hint: he, apparently, started his signature “biting of the lower lip” at a young age!

Dan is on the bottom left.  And the coach is Ed Martinez, who (according to Dan) is the best they ever had.

Thank you for sharing this, Dan.  It’s another moment in his life for Shane and I to treasure.

****For those who couldn’t find him, Chris is bottom/center - with the soccer ball.****

My all time favorite Chris/Shane photo; he was just hours old.  The photo is miles away from being technically correct - but it captured a moment, a moment on the day our son was born.  The moment when my husband knew he was a father.

I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better daycare-to-preschool transition.  Shane is just loving “pre-k” (I can’t use the word “school” or he FREAKS out).  LOVING.  He asks me every night while we’re lying in his bed if he can go to pre-k tomorrow and every morning he’s anxious and excited to get out of the house and to get to his new friends and teachers.  Every evening, when I go to pick him up, he’s always busy playing with the other kids and it always takes him a minute or two to even realize I’m there.  His teachers have nothing but fantastic things to say about him and they all agree that he’s doing REALLY well and really has just carved out a little place for himself there.  He’s excited about taking a lunch to school everyday and he’s eating most of it and is even “taking a rest” afterwards during quiet time!  I honestly couldn’t ask for more.  Shane is a remarkable little boy and I know his Daddy is keeping a watchful eye on him to make sure he’s doing the best he can do.  In that respect, I consider us lucky.

**********

It’s obvious to me that Chris has been on Shane’s mind a lot lately.  This morning he asked me for his LIVESTRONG bracelet - something he’s NEVER asked me for before.  So I got one out of my drawer and put it on his wrist.  And he left it there, didn’t even attempt to “play” with it.  And when we got to pre-k this morning, his teacher was telling me again how great he was doing.  She also said that Shane talks about his Dad all the time.  They think it’s Shane’s way of bringing people he doesn’t know that well into his world.  They think it’s a good thing and encourage him to talk about Chris.  I told his teacher that Chris’ biggest fear during our cancer battle was that something would happen to him (I hate that this fear came true) and that Shane wouldn’t remember who he was.  Miss Dotty told me that if what they’re seeing is any indication, Shane will never forget his dad.  For this, too, I consider us lucky.

**********

As for the accident on Tuesday, I had an estimate for repair in my hand by 1pm that afternoon (I’ve been very impressed with our insurance company - Travelers) and shortly after I ran out to get some lunch.  I noticed that the rear drivers side door wouldn’t close all the way after the appraiser had opened it to do his inspection.  I called our body shop to see if the car was safe to drive like this (I was worried about Shane being in the back seat - though his carseat is on the passenger side) and the body shop said probably not.  I ended up having to take the car down to the body shop that same afternoon and pick up a rental.  I’m now driving around in a car that’s not mine due to an accident that wasn’t my fault, but apparently is.  The more I think about things, the more I truly don’t see how all of this could be my fault.  I was driving on a ONE LANE road and put my blinker on to make the left hand turn.  There were NO cars coming from the opposite direction - it couldn’t have been any clearer for me to go - so it wasn’t even like I stopped or slowed down a lot.  I simply just made my turn and the guy BEHIND me hit ME.  If he wasn’t driving so close to me he should’ve/would’ve had more than enough time to stop - regardless of whether I made a wide turn or not.  And the cop, who let that guy go before he let me go, took off before I was even done talking to him to try to straighten this whole thing out (or at least try to understand how I could be at fault).  I’m just really annoyed and angry.  My insurance company said that they do their own investigation to determine fault, and I’m hoping they find I’m NOT, because if this affects my rates I’m going to be even more angry.  Ticket or no ticket, I’m going to have to fight it because I honestly don’t think I did anything wrong.   I’m tired of all the crap in my life.  The O’Connors’ have paid their dues.  It’s time to move on now, bad carma.  You’re not welcome here anymore.

**********

It’s weeks like this one that make Chris’ absence even more real.  I want his arms to fall into when life gets difficult.  I want his voice, his words, to calm me down and soothe away the hurt.  The anger.  The sadness.  I want him.  I want my husband.  I want Chris.  I’m tired of wanting.  I’m tired of missing.  I’m tired of sadness.  And of pain.  I want love again.  I want my husband.

**********

Finally, Happy Birthday to Aunt Trae!  We wish we were there with you.  We wish your brother was here to call you today (though I wish that for you everyday).  Have an amazing, amazing day - you totally deserve it!