As I was pondering on the month this morning, I couldn't help but think that things are going alright. There have been hard moments, sure, but the bulk of our January has been filled with good days and real joy. It feels so nice. At times when it was hardest for me, I looked at how my kids were doing and felt a mixture of jealousy and annoyance. My mind couldn't stop obsessing the fact that they weren't struggling as much as I thought they would/should, as much as I am. I am super happy and relieved for this fact, naturally, but I won't lie and say those were the only emotions I felt with how well they've accepted and handled Caden's absence. Grief is confusing. During this moment, a thought came quietly, gently to me:
'They've been prepared over the years.'
And I knew it was true. They have dealt with shock and fear and hard things from the very first time I showed up at their schools, telling them I had to go immediately and I did not know when I was going to be able to come home, and to be good at the friends' homes that I'd quickly arranged for them to stay at for an undetermined amount of days. Over and over for years I'd pack up our vehicle to take Caden away to Seattle, many times leaving the kids for weeks and some times entire months. They've learned to do things on their own. They've learned to handle Caden being gone, whereas I have not. I've always had Caden by my side, a constant companion. That's not to say that the kids have not struggled, oh no, only that they've adapted much easier and faster than I have. They have been made strong, they were born strong. I envy them more than I am annoyed and jealous of them. We're all doing better day-by-day. And for that, I am grateful.
Saturday, January 27, 2018
Friday, January 26, 2018
18 months...
I am bursting at the seams!! I just booked a cabin for a Burrell family reunion/60th birthday party for my parents/retirement party for my dad in July 2019!! The cabin is gorgeous, the scenery is sublime, the food is going to be plentiful, and you know the company is going to be exceptional. All I have to say is: Is it 18 months from now already?!
This view is beckoning me!
And, let me just say, I am super glad I don't have to use this gem...
to get these views, although I look forward, with anticipation, to the day I do get to scare someone with my passport photo. Or make their day with a surprise laugh-fest at my expense. One day...
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Special Boy
A conversation with Caden's favorite, as told to me by Ashlee:
"Aria talks from the time she wakes to the time she goes to bed. Often, when on a long drive, she'll be talking one second, asleep the next, and wake talking, as if she hadn't just taken a two-hour nap. Aria just loves to talk and talk.
While in the car the other day, just leaving the car wash, Aria stopped all conversation quite abruptly and said, 'I miss Caden. Mom, do you miss Caden, too?' Taken aback and brought to emotion, Ashlee said, 'Yes, Aria, I miss Caden very much.' And in the sweet voice that Caden would move the sun, moon, and stars to listen to and obey, Aria replied, 'Caden was such a special boy.' And went on talking about anything and everything that came into her mind, while I cried as we drove home."
She's right, Caden was a very special boy. Especially when a 3-year-old child still talks about him after more than four months without seeing his face, being near him to sit on his lap or hold his hand, and bossing him around with whatever she wanted to do. Candy Land for the fifth straight hour, each game played with different rules so you can win? You bet! I thought you'd never ask. Another episode of Sofia the First? My favorite!
Or my personal favorite-- "Caden, let's play 'Melissa and Joe.'" "OK?!?! I'll be Joe." "No, you're Melissa." And play, they did.
My sister died when I was five years old. I do not remember much, not her, not my parents being gone as much as I know they needed to be to take care of her in the hospital, nor of how it felt to have her die and be gone from our lives. Aria, being three, will probably not remember Caden, except in pictures. But I will always cherish the memory of the one relationship where Caden gave everything he had to the girl that stole his heart.
"Aria talks from the time she wakes to the time she goes to bed. Often, when on a long drive, she'll be talking one second, asleep the next, and wake talking, as if she hadn't just taken a two-hour nap. Aria just loves to talk and talk.
While in the car the other day, just leaving the car wash, Aria stopped all conversation quite abruptly and said, 'I miss Caden. Mom, do you miss Caden, too?' Taken aback and brought to emotion, Ashlee said, 'Yes, Aria, I miss Caden very much.' And in the sweet voice that Caden would move the sun, moon, and stars to listen to and obey, Aria replied, 'Caden was such a special boy.' And went on talking about anything and everything that came into her mind, while I cried as we drove home."
She's right, Caden was a very special boy. Especially when a 3-year-old child still talks about him after more than four months without seeing his face, being near him to sit on his lap or hold his hand, and bossing him around with whatever she wanted to do. Candy Land for the fifth straight hour, each game played with different rules so you can win? You bet! I thought you'd never ask. Another episode of Sofia the First? My favorite!
My sister died when I was five years old. I do not remember much, not her, not my parents being gone as much as I know they needed to be to take care of her in the hospital, nor of how it felt to have her die and be gone from our lives. Aria, being three, will probably not remember Caden, except in pictures. But I will always cherish the memory of the one relationship where Caden gave everything he had to the girl that stole his heart.
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Hiding
I have a home for most everything in our house. I love being able to tell you exactly where something is that you ask for. I love having things in their place for easy access and retrieval. My world feels less out of control when I control where everything fits. I have always liked organization, but it has exacerbated since cancer care. Now I need it, not just like it.
I used to keep all of our remotes near the TV and Blu-Ray player, but everyone said they felt it would be smarter {*cough* less work} to keep them beside the couches. Since that was where they always left them anyway, I used a vase that once held funeral flowers and made a new "home" for our remotes. All would be right in the world..... if the kids put them where they go.
We spent about 30 minutes last night looking for the remote that could start our FHE activity movie. And I mean an entire 30 minutes of 6 people looking in every nook and cranny of our home. The music was on repeat (until Ipunched a hole in the TV to shut it up turned the TV off), grating on my nerves as we all blamed each other for walking off with that blasted remote. I'm fairly certain we all checked each others' places 100 times. I'm 100% certain we all pointed fingers of blame at each other 100 times 6. Not a great beginning to our FHE activity, nor a great way to keep the Spirit in our home after Keilie's lesson on Eternal Life.
Randy is the one that found it. It had fallen down the back of the couch, between the back and leather. I have never hated dark leather as much as I did last night when looking for the black remote. It was no easy task getting it out, at one point needing a real shove of his arm down the back and a struggled pull to get his arm back out. There were words spoken in frustration and annoyance about leaving the remote on the couch, especially where it can fall between cushions, not just down the sides of the couch. When Randy showed them where it had fallen, Brennon without an ounce of guile in his voice, and in complete stunned reverence whispered, "Wow! That was a great hiding spot!!" As if the remote had been playing a game like a boss.
Hide-and-seek has been played many times over the past few weeks. Even Keilie really gets into it, especially if they can play it in the dark. I'm all for playing.... except when it's a Blu-Ray remote hiding in the "perfect spot" just an arm's reach away from its "home." I'm thinking of initiating a game of Hide-and-Seek tonight. At 7:00pm. Under my covers, with the lights off, not making a single sound, not moving a single muscle. I plan on winning, naturally. Two can play at that game. Remote-- It. Is. On!
I used to keep all of our remotes near the TV and Blu-Ray player, but everyone said they felt it would be smarter {*cough* less work} to keep them beside the couches. Since that was where they always left them anyway, I used a vase that once held funeral flowers and made a new "home" for our remotes. All would be right in the world..... if the kids put them where they go.
We spent about 30 minutes last night looking for the remote that could start our FHE activity movie. And I mean an entire 30 minutes of 6 people looking in every nook and cranny of our home. The music was on repeat (until I
Randy is the one that found it. It had fallen down the back of the couch, between the back and leather. I have never hated dark leather as much as I did last night when looking for the black remote. It was no easy task getting it out, at one point needing a real shove of his arm down the back and a struggled pull to get his arm back out. There were words spoken in frustration and annoyance about leaving the remote on the couch, especially where it can fall between cushions, not just down the sides of the couch. When Randy showed them where it had fallen, Brennon without an ounce of guile in his voice, and in complete stunned reverence whispered, "Wow! That was a great hiding spot!!" As if the remote had been playing a game like a boss.
Hide-and-seek has been played many times over the past few weeks. Even Keilie really gets into it, especially if they can play it in the dark. I'm all for playing.... except when it's a Blu-Ray remote hiding in the "perfect spot" just an arm's reach away from its "home." I'm thinking of initiating a game of Hide-and-Seek tonight. At 7:00pm. Under my covers, with the lights off, not making a single sound, not moving a single muscle. I plan on winning, naturally. Two can play at that game. Remote-- It. Is. On!
Let the games begin!
Monday, January 22, 2018
How's your brother?
Just a few weeks after we moved into this new home, the neighbor across the street opened his garage to reveal a gorgeous Shelby Mustang. Being a car guy, Randy immediately went to make this guys' acquaintance. We don't see him much, but we can always tell when he's in town because his cars are super loud. He's a great guy.
When Terry heard that Caden had cancer, he loaned us a book that he said "changed his life." It was all about diet and cancer. I read it, agreeing with some of what it said, but I also couldn't get into it as much as I know he hoped I would. It was all about how eating the right plant-based diet would stave off cancer-- all cancer. I wanted to tell the author (who isn't a doctor, mind you) that he could look an acquaintance I'd made while at Camp Side-By-Side in the eye and tell her that her baby born with cancer should have eaten better. Or that had she eaten better, her child probably wouldn't have gotten cancer in-utero. The first week of this baby's life included removing one of his eyes and starting one year of chemo. Her husband was born with the same cancer. If you have it, there is a 50% chance that your child will as well. No amount of plant-based eating is going to change that fact. Her son died when he was ten, after losing his other eye, as well. He was their only child. She couldn't handle knowing that any more of her children would most likely be born with cancer. I do agree that eating better can cure a lot of ailments, but not all of them. We have met people that were vegan their whole marriage that have a child with cancer. Sometimes, cancer is just something that happens. Promoting plant-based diet as the cure is just not the answer.
We've tried many times taking the book back to him over the last few months. After hearing his truck on Saturday, Randy sent Brennon over with the book. Brennon thanked him for letting us borrow the book, to which Terry asked, "So, how's your brother?" Brennon, simply answered, "He's good." He wasn't thinking about Caden, he was thinking of Tyson. I sometimes wish that my responses could be said without always thinking of Caden and what we've lost and how much we fought. Still, even now, months later, my mind cannot stop thinking of Caden first. I still feel as if I want to tell everyone, "Oh my gosh, listen to what happened to us. This is what our lives are like inside our beautiful new home." Because it hurts so much, because we want people to always remember Caden, because we want others to be aware. Not all cancer is Pink. Not all cancer is environment or lifestyle caused. Cancer is stealing children, and because of a lack of funding, it will continue for years to come. STUPID CANCER!
When Terry heard that Caden had cancer, he loaned us a book that he said "changed his life." It was all about diet and cancer. I read it, agreeing with some of what it said, but I also couldn't get into it as much as I know he hoped I would. It was all about how eating the right plant-based diet would stave off cancer-- all cancer. I wanted to tell the author (who isn't a doctor, mind you) that he could look an acquaintance I'd made while at Camp Side-By-Side in the eye and tell her that her baby born with cancer should have eaten better. Or that had she eaten better, her child probably wouldn't have gotten cancer in-utero. The first week of this baby's life included removing one of his eyes and starting one year of chemo. Her husband was born with the same cancer. If you have it, there is a 50% chance that your child will as well. No amount of plant-based eating is going to change that fact. Her son died when he was ten, after losing his other eye, as well. He was their only child. She couldn't handle knowing that any more of her children would most likely be born with cancer. I do agree that eating better can cure a lot of ailments, but not all of them. We have met people that were vegan their whole marriage that have a child with cancer. Sometimes, cancer is just something that happens. Promoting plant-based diet as the cure is just not the answer.
We've tried many times taking the book back to him over the last few months. After hearing his truck on Saturday, Randy sent Brennon over with the book. Brennon thanked him for letting us borrow the book, to which Terry asked, "So, how's your brother?" Brennon, simply answered, "He's good." He wasn't thinking about Caden, he was thinking of Tyson. I sometimes wish that my responses could be said without always thinking of Caden and what we've lost and how much we fought. Still, even now, months later, my mind cannot stop thinking of Caden first. I still feel as if I want to tell everyone, "Oh my gosh, listen to what happened to us. This is what our lives are like inside our beautiful new home." Because it hurts so much, because we want people to always remember Caden, because we want others to be aware. Not all cancer is Pink. Not all cancer is environment or lifestyle caused. Cancer is stealing children, and because of a lack of funding, it will continue for years to come. STUPID CANCER!
Sunday, January 21, 2018
Warning!
I wish I was better at controlling my emotions. I wish I could step back and think about my reactions sometimes, because I know for a fact that Keilie doesn't want to hurt me, that it isn't her goal to figuratively punch me in the stomach. But sometimes the things she says really hurt.
While I was ordering my blog book, Keilie happened upon me at the stage where the cover color was being chosen. When she saw that I was ordering Yellow, she actually huffed a disgusted breath, and in a tone that was totally annoyed and grate-on-my-nerves worthy said, "UGH, Yellow?! Why do we have to do Yellow again?!" I screamed at her, and burst into tears. "Believe me, Keilie, I would give anything to have this book be a different color, any color!!!!!" And left the room bawling. I had to apologize to her later, explaining (again) why we chose Yellow all those years ago. I couldn't speak by the time I got to the part about never again having a Yellow book.
Today she asked if she could have an Almond Poppy Seed muffin for snack time. I told her no, that I wanted to have them last one more breakfast before upgrading them to snack status. With a whine that must be signature teenager in any culture, she said, "Well, there are like 12 muffins here. We only have four kids now." Again, I screamed at her, and burst into tears. "I do not need you, or anyone, to tell me how many kids I have now. I think about it every meal, every car ride, every activity, every bedtime, every second of the day. I will only have four kids to count for the rest of my freaking life!"
She doesn't mean to hurt my feelings. But some subjects are taboo in this house forever. You have been warned.
While I was ordering my blog book, Keilie happened upon me at the stage where the cover color was being chosen. When she saw that I was ordering Yellow, she actually huffed a disgusted breath, and in a tone that was totally annoyed and grate-on-my-nerves worthy said, "UGH, Yellow?! Why do we have to do Yellow again?!" I screamed at her, and burst into tears. "Believe me, Keilie, I would give anything to have this book be a different color, any color!!!!!" And left the room bawling. I had to apologize to her later, explaining (again) why we chose Yellow all those years ago. I couldn't speak by the time I got to the part about never again having a Yellow book.
Today she asked if she could have an Almond Poppy Seed muffin for snack time. I told her no, that I wanted to have them last one more breakfast before upgrading them to snack status. With a whine that must be signature teenager in any culture, she said, "Well, there are like 12 muffins here. We only have four kids now." Again, I screamed at her, and burst into tears. "I do not need you, or anyone, to tell me how many kids I have now. I think about it every meal, every car ride, every activity, every bedtime, every second of the day. I will only have four kids to count for the rest of my freaking life!"
She doesn't mean to hurt my feelings. But some subjects are taboo in this house forever. You have been warned.
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Awake
My anxiety was so high after the news of my friend's son, I barely slept last night. I did sleep, but I woke often and had a very hard time falling back to sleep. My FitBit registered 4 hours 36 minutes. When my anxiety is that high, I can blow through prescription sleep aid like a hot knife through butter.
On the other end of the sleep spectrum, Shelby dreamed of Caden. She woke the next morning and came crying to our room. "I dreamed that Caden came back to life. We were having so much fun in my dream." She was crying uncontrollably. And then I was, too. I would take their reality in a second, if I could. I would take all their nightmares myself, every single one of them. Caden was not the only one that had to grow up too quickly because of cancer. All of my kids have had to. They are living people's worst nightmares every single day of their lives.
On the other end of the sleep spectrum, Shelby dreamed of Caden. She woke the next morning and came crying to our room. "I dreamed that Caden came back to life. We were having so much fun in my dream." She was crying uncontrollably. And then I was, too. I would take their reality in a second, if I could. I would take all their nightmares myself, every single one of them. Caden was not the only one that had to grow up too quickly because of cancer. All of my kids have had to. They are living people's worst nightmares every single day of their lives.
Friday, January 19, 2018
Complete
They're here!! Our blog books are finally here!!
Two books for the first year of cancer care, two books for the following two, with two books for the final year. Six books. My gosh, my son died! Can this really be my life? How can this be real?
Our collection of Yellow books is now complete, while our lives feel anything but. Oh, Caden, how I miss you. So much sometimes that I think I might die from the pain. My heart is heavy today. As heavy as these books on the shelf.
7:30pm
January 19, 1986-- My parent's got the incredible news that a life-saving liver had been found for their daughter, Keilie, and not a minute too soon. The transplant was a success. Keilie died of pneumonia just 9 months later, at 18 months, on Ashlee's 3rd birthday.
January 19, 2011-- My Mom's mom, Grandma Kimber, passed away.
January 19, 2018-- The last of my friends made while in cancer care found out that her 6-year-old son's fight is over. There are tumors in every section of his liver, as well in other parts of his tiny body. The same immunotherapy drug that we hoped would be our Miracle Drug failed them as well.
Ashlee captured this picture just minutes after the funeral home took my son from our home for the last time. This is what profound shock and grief looks like. I feel it again for my friend tonight. I hurt for her, her husband, and two other sons; I hurt for our friend that lost her son one week after Caden; I hurt for me. Grief is like smoke tonight-- burning my eyes, stealing my breath, consuming every part of me until I am nothing but black and ash.
7:30pm
January 19, 1986-- My parent's got the incredible news that a life-saving liver had been found for their daughter, Keilie, and not a minute too soon. The transplant was a success. Keilie died of pneumonia just 9 months later, at 18 months, on Ashlee's 3rd birthday.
January 19, 2011-- My Mom's mom, Grandma Kimber, passed away.
January 19, 2018-- The last of my friends made while in cancer care found out that her 6-year-old son's fight is over. There are tumors in every section of his liver, as well in other parts of his tiny body. The same immunotherapy drug that we hoped would be our Miracle Drug failed them as well.
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Quilts
Quilting was a very big part of my life when Caden and I stayed at the Ronald McDonald House April 18th through May 16th, 2017. Going to Joanne's, where I looked for fabric and he looked for crafts, was very fun, as was making a quilt a week for those four weeks. While he was getting his infusions, I would quietly hand bind the quilt (minus that first week when he had that horrible reaction), finishing my work before he finished his. The bright fabrics couldn't help but bring me happiness, and each quilt that turned out how I envisioned added to my joy. It was a boon during a difficult, stressful time.
The last quilt that I started had one side left to bind when we left Seattle. I remember vividly finishing up the binding the day after we heard the news: Inoperable. I remember holding that quilt close as I gave into the sorrow-- my son is going to die, stitch, my son is going to die, stitch. I remember thinking, this quilt, this last quilt that I made with my Caden from fabrics we chose together, means too much to give away right now. I finished it, folded it up, and tucked it away. I told myself that I would give it when the time was right, when I could imagine it leaving my heavy heart and my empty arms. I know who will get it, someday. One day, she will receive it in the mail, unexpected and full of surprise, with a letter containing heartfelt words from me. Sue. Someday...
Because it brought me so much happiness, I've considered making more quilts recently. I have needed projects that keep me busy, bring me happiness, and can bring happiness to others. However, each time I went to the fabric store, I felt my anxieties grow and grow. It felt too soon. It felt too important. I didn't want to lay something out and hate it, like some of the quilts I've worked on in the past. My emotions were too raw, too tortured. I did not need any more disappointment. I was not in the right place. But the desire was still there, so I kept going to Joanne's, hoping for inspiration. With a Baby Boy for a cousin and a Baby Girl for a cousin's grandchild, I went in search of fabric. Each trip (and there have been many) I would inevitably end up with my heart burning and racing, too-shallow breaths until I felt faint, and eventually race out, disappointed. And then it hit me:
Choosing fabrics may be too stressful, but you've already made some that you loved. Why not buy the same fabric?
At that thought, I burst into tears. Right there in the Nursery fabric sections of Joanne's. {I was that emotional} That was it! I could take the stress out of the situation by copying my own "genius," bringing myself joy again by making something I already knew I loved. So I did. My very first quilt was for Kimberly's son, Daxton (born July 2017). Beginner's luck had that quilt come together from start to finish without a stress in the world. The fabric choices were obvious, came together effortlessly, and brought me so much happiness with each step of the process. This new quilt for my cousin isn't exactly like Daxton's, but the main fabrics that prompted me to make one for Kimberly were the same. And once again, I felt joy while quilting. I haven't made one "from scratch" yet (it all starts with fabric coordination), since my emotions and mental capacity are still pretty unstable, but it was a step forward. A good step forward.
The last quilt that I started had one side left to bind when we left Seattle. I remember vividly finishing up the binding the day after we heard the news: Inoperable. I remember holding that quilt close as I gave into the sorrow-- my son is going to die, stitch, my son is going to die, stitch. I remember thinking, this quilt, this last quilt that I made with my Caden from fabrics we chose together, means too much to give away right now. I finished it, folded it up, and tucked it away. I told myself that I would give it when the time was right, when I could imagine it leaving my heavy heart and my empty arms. I know who will get it, someday. One day, she will receive it in the mail, unexpected and full of surprise, with a letter containing heartfelt words from me. Sue. Someday...
Because it brought me so much happiness, I've considered making more quilts recently. I have needed projects that keep me busy, bring me happiness, and can bring happiness to others. However, each time I went to the fabric store, I felt my anxieties grow and grow. It felt too soon. It felt too important. I didn't want to lay something out and hate it, like some of the quilts I've worked on in the past. My emotions were too raw, too tortured. I did not need any more disappointment. I was not in the right place. But the desire was still there, so I kept going to Joanne's, hoping for inspiration. With a Baby Boy for a cousin and a Baby Girl for a cousin's grandchild, I went in search of fabric. Each trip (and there have been many) I would inevitably end up with my heart burning and racing, too-shallow breaths until I felt faint, and eventually race out, disappointed. And then it hit me:
Choosing fabrics may be too stressful, but you've already made some that you loved. Why not buy the same fabric?
At that thought, I burst into tears. Right there in the Nursery fabric sections of Joanne's. {I was that emotional} That was it! I could take the stress out of the situation by copying my own "genius," bringing myself joy again by making something I already knew I loved. So I did. My very first quilt was for Kimberly's son, Daxton (born July 2017). Beginner's luck had that quilt come together from start to finish without a stress in the world. The fabric choices were obvious, came together effortlessly, and brought me so much happiness with each step of the process. This new quilt for my cousin isn't exactly like Daxton's, but the main fabrics that prompted me to make one for Kimberly were the same. And once again, I felt joy while quilting. I haven't made one "from scratch" yet (it all starts with fabric coordination), since my emotions and mental capacity are still pretty unstable, but it was a step forward. A good step forward.
Wednesday, January 17, 2018
Conversations
My friend Emily gave us a Mason Jar with dinner conversation starters for Christmas. Each night, the kids excitedly anticipate the questions, many times not taking a bite until the question is read. It has been a lot of fun. Here are a few of my favorites, so far:
If you could talk to your whole school at once, what would you say?
Keilie-- You do NOT have to cuss so much!
Shelby, Brennon, and Tyson-- Stop bullying and just be nice.
Who would play you in a movie version of your life? We all thought about this for each member.
Randy: Either Kirby Heyborne from The R.M. or Randy Wayne from Heart of Country.
Stephanie: Either Ashley Judd from Someone Like You or Jennifer Garner from 13 Going on 30.
Caden: Asa Butterfield in Ender's Game. *Caden had already decided to be Ender for Halloween, because he said he felt like they looked alike. He never got the chance.*
Keilie: Keira Knightley from Pirate's of the Caribbean #1.
Shelby: Dakota Fanning from Man on Fire
Brennon: Haley Joel Osment from Pay it Forward or Secondhand Lions
Tyson: Noah Jupe from Wonder, because he's popular, fun to be around, and smart. *We had a hard time with Tyson's. No one captures Tyson. Tyson just said him because he likes that movie and just finished reading the book. I think he wants to be like "Jack Will," so he chose that character. Leave a comment if you can think of anyone better suited to play our Tyson.*
If you could have only one dream come true, what would it be?
Keilie, Shelby, and Brennon-- Have Magic
Tyson-- Have Caden back.
If you could trade places with someone you know, would you do it? Who would it be with, and why?
Tyson-- Caden. So I could see what he sees.
Brennon-- Caden. So he could live just one more day.
If you could trade places with your parents, how would you do things differently?
All-- buy better snacks. Nice.
It has been so much fun to do this together. I especially love that Caden is still very much a part of our family dinners. Of our lives. My family brings me so much joy and contentment.
If you could talk to your whole school at once, what would you say?
Keilie-- You do NOT have to cuss so much!
Shelby, Brennon, and Tyson-- Stop bullying and just be nice.
Who would play you in a movie version of your life? We all thought about this for each member.
Randy: Either Kirby Heyborne from The R.M. or Randy Wayne from Heart of Country.
Stephanie: Either Ashley Judd from Someone Like You or Jennifer Garner from 13 Going on 30.
Caden: Asa Butterfield in Ender's Game. *Caden had already decided to be Ender for Halloween, because he said he felt like they looked alike. He never got the chance.*
Keilie: Keira Knightley from Pirate's of the Caribbean #1.
Shelby: Dakota Fanning from Man on Fire
Brennon: Haley Joel Osment from Pay it Forward or Secondhand Lions
Tyson: Noah Jupe from Wonder, because he's popular, fun to be around, and smart. *We had a hard time with Tyson's. No one captures Tyson. Tyson just said him because he likes that movie and just finished reading the book. I think he wants to be like "Jack Will," so he chose that character. Leave a comment if you can think of anyone better suited to play our Tyson.*
If you could have only one dream come true, what would it be?
Keilie, Shelby, and Brennon-- Have Magic
Tyson-- Have Caden back.
If you could trade places with someone you know, would you do it? Who would it be with, and why?
Tyson-- Caden. So I could see what he sees.
Brennon-- Caden. So he could live just one more day.
If you could trade places with your parents, how would you do things differently?
All-- buy better snacks. Nice.
It has been so much fun to do this together. I especially love that Caden is still very much a part of our family dinners. Of our lives. My family brings me so much joy and contentment.
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
Match
I walked into the house from taking Keilie to school at just the right time this morning.
"Brennon, I love that we take the same lunch every day."
"Me too. I like making them together too."
"Don't they taste better when they match?"
"Yes!"
These brothers. Love their relationship!!! And their endearing innocence.
"Brennon, I love that we take the same lunch every day."
"Me too. I like making them together too."
"Don't they taste better when they match?"
"Yes!"
These brothers. Love their relationship!!! And their endearing innocence.
2010. My "baby birds" eating lunch from mommy's plate.
Friday, January 12, 2018
Letters
While walking around the neighborhood and enjoying the sunshine, I let my mind wander to my last post, starting to feel the vacuum of self-pity that I will never receive a letter from Elder Caden while he's proclaiming the gospel. It wasn't more than three steps before a thought came into my head: I had already received one such letter, although not from "Elder" Caden. I felt the tug of a grin form as I remembered the words that were written in a letter sent days after Caden passed away, a letter written to himself when he was just 11 years old.
Days after we moved to Washington, his Language Arts teacher from Enterprise Middle School gave the class an assignment to write a letter to themselves, one that would be kept in a time capsule, to be opened when they graduated. It would have been a really cool letter to read on its intended day, but because of the circumstances, it now means even more. Written in his own hand, a glimpse into the mind of my still-innocent Caden, I received my very own missionary letter of him proclaiming the gospel.
Because he was still such an innocent child (the very age Shelby will turn on the 29th), the letter had its share of silly. He thought very highly of himself, stating that the girl that he had a crush on (giving details of her, even) most definitely had a crush on him as well. {Look at that radiant smile-- can you blame him for feeling handsome?!} It was seriously adorable to see what about this girl captured his attentions. It also showed just how much he struggled making friends. He even went so far as to say he had "enemies." He did not feel as if he fit in here, or that he ever would, very much missing the best friends he'd left behind. I knew this already, but reading his tender words about it broke my heart. "I miss Brayden. Remember him? Brayden Busch. If you don't talk to him anymore, find him. He is a good friend." I may not be able to watch Brayden grow up (like I can the friends here in Richland), but I will always love the Busch family for the love and security they gave Caden while he was "growing up in Casper," as he liked to say.
Many emotions were felt while holding this letter, seeing his handwriting, and reading his words. Tears were shed, both sad and happy, as I carefully, slowly devoured his words. And then my heart burned within me as I read these words:
"If you have not been to church in a while-- GO! It may be hard, but it is really important!"
Some would say that we "raised that boy right." Here is an 11-year-old boy telling his 18-year-old self that church is important. But I'm telling you, Caden's strength came with him from Heaven. From his earliest childhood, Caden was a spiritual giant. He invited friends to church and other activities, read his scriptures without prompting, reminded us to have Family Home Evening if we missed (which we did often when I had three babies under three), kind of chastised us for not attending church if the reason didn't warrant us a viable excuse, reminded us days in advance of General Conference and that we needed candy to play our traditional games while watching, and, as I've written before, wrote in his journal. There were times throughout the last few years where he had us race home from the hospital- even if the hurried motion made him nauseous- to attend Sacrament meeting, a presidency meeting, or mutual. If we were in Seattle, he'd make sure that we had the Sacrament brought to us, if we could. He cared that the broken bread "counted" if he threw it up seconds after it hit his stomach, wanting to be worthy to take it each week. Toward the end of his life, he saved up all of his energies so that he'd have enough strength to attend Seminary each day, even attending the day we returned from Hawaii, just five days before he passed. My Caden was born a missionary. This precious time-capsule letter, the stories that have been shared about him from so many, his very life are the letters written to me while he proclaimed the gospel. I need not mourn missed missionary opportunities with my Caden-- I've had 16 years of letters!
Because he was still such an innocent child (the very age Shelby will turn on the 29th), the letter had its share of silly. He thought very highly of himself, stating that the girl that he had a crush on (giving details of her, even) most definitely had a crush on him as well. {Look at that radiant smile-- can you blame him for feeling handsome?!} It was seriously adorable to see what about this girl captured his attentions. It also showed just how much he struggled making friends. He even went so far as to say he had "enemies." He did not feel as if he fit in here, or that he ever would, very much missing the best friends he'd left behind. I knew this already, but reading his tender words about it broke my heart. "I miss Brayden. Remember him? Brayden Busch. If you don't talk to him anymore, find him. He is a good friend." I may not be able to watch Brayden grow up (like I can the friends here in Richland), but I will always love the Busch family for the love and security they gave Caden while he was "growing up in Casper," as he liked to say.
Many emotions were felt while holding this letter, seeing his handwriting, and reading his words. Tears were shed, both sad and happy, as I carefully, slowly devoured his words. And then my heart burned within me as I read these words:
"If you have not been to church in a while-- GO! It may be hard, but it is really important!"
Some would say that we "raised that boy right." Here is an 11-year-old boy telling his 18-year-old self that church is important. But I'm telling you, Caden's strength came with him from Heaven. From his earliest childhood, Caden was a spiritual giant. He invited friends to church and other activities, read his scriptures without prompting, reminded us to have Family Home Evening if we missed (which we did often when I had three babies under three), kind of chastised us for not attending church if the reason didn't warrant us a viable excuse, reminded us days in advance of General Conference and that we needed candy to play our traditional games while watching, and, as I've written before, wrote in his journal. There were times throughout the last few years where he had us race home from the hospital- even if the hurried motion made him nauseous- to attend Sacrament meeting, a presidency meeting, or mutual. If we were in Seattle, he'd make sure that we had the Sacrament brought to us, if we could. He cared that the broken bread "counted" if he threw it up seconds after it hit his stomach, wanting to be worthy to take it each week. Toward the end of his life, he saved up all of his energies so that he'd have enough strength to attend Seminary each day, even attending the day we returned from Hawaii, just five days before he passed. My Caden was born a missionary. This precious time-capsule letter, the stories that have been shared about him from so many, his very life are the letters written to me while he proclaimed the gospel. I need not mourn missed missionary opportunities with my Caden-- I've had 16 years of letters!
Thursday, January 11, 2018
Hope
A few weeks ago, my friend Angeleah asked if I would give her an example of 'how we can have hope through the gospel of Jesus Christ' for a talk she was asked to give in church. I thought about it for a while, coming up with this:
"While Caden was living while dying, I kept reminding myself of the gospel truths that this is the Plan, that the life we live on earth is not the Eternal end, and that we will be a family forever. Since he passed 12.5 weeks ago, I remind myself that he is living a life still, just not one that we see. He is on a mission. He could get married and have the happiness that an Eternal Companion brings. He is doing all that he loves, not held back by humanity or health or hesitating worry and wondering. I hold out hope and faith that when I finally see his beautiful face, hear the stories from my son's mission and growing up from age 16 and beyond, I will still have the earthly emotions that bring pride and joy and love to my heart, tears to my cheeks, and weight to the hugs and love that I have been yearning to give. I will see my remarkable son again. And when I do, it really will be Heaven."
The morning after her talk, Angeleah sent me a text, telling me of the experience that has stayed in my heart for weeks, warming me-- something I never want to forget.
"Yesterday, when I read your words over the pulpit, the Spirit was so strong. There was a second when I thought I wasn't going to be able to read your words, because my throat started closing up and tears were building. I quickly said in my head, 'Come on, Caden, help me out,' and instantly I found my throat clearing and could read your sweet words. There were many tears shed for you in my ward yesterday. People who knew Caden, or of him because they go to Richland High. Thank you so much for letting me do that. It was an awesome experience!"
My son really is an extraordinary missionary. I love my Elder Caden Randy Dirks.
"While Caden was living while dying, I kept reminding myself of the gospel truths that this is the Plan, that the life we live on earth is not the Eternal end, and that we will be a family forever. Since he passed 12.5 weeks ago, I remind myself that he is living a life still, just not one that we see. He is on a mission. He could get married and have the happiness that an Eternal Companion brings. He is doing all that he loves, not held back by humanity or health or hesitating worry and wondering. I hold out hope and faith that when I finally see his beautiful face, hear the stories from my son's mission and growing up from age 16 and beyond, I will still have the earthly emotions that bring pride and joy and love to my heart, tears to my cheeks, and weight to the hugs and love that I have been yearning to give. I will see my remarkable son again. And when I do, it really will be Heaven."
The morning after her talk, Angeleah sent me a text, telling me of the experience that has stayed in my heart for weeks, warming me-- something I never want to forget.
"Yesterday, when I read your words over the pulpit, the Spirit was so strong. There was a second when I thought I wasn't going to be able to read your words, because my throat started closing up and tears were building. I quickly said in my head, 'Come on, Caden, help me out,' and instantly I found my throat clearing and could read your sweet words. There were many tears shed for you in my ward yesterday. People who knew Caden, or of him because they go to Richland High. Thank you so much for letting me do that. It was an awesome experience!"
My son really is an extraordinary missionary. I love my Elder Caden Randy Dirks.
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
Steps
Randy and I have been using more of our thought process for ourselves recently. Because our every thought and worry was for Caden, it was easy to not really care about anything personal. Our food was grabbed as easily as we could find it, sometimes even a candy bar as we ran for a quick "meal." Cancer care was the furthest from the cafeteria, and sometimes I just couldn't get myself to leave him for that long. And don't get me started on the repercussions of spending 90% of your time confined to just one room. Both Randy and I have seen a gradual increase in our weight and a gradual decrease of our interest to change. But we now have time to care, and we finally see what cancer care has done to us-- not pretty. I will never, never regret the boat snacks, the party snacks, and the general junk that we consumed during the celebration times this last summer, nor the compulsion to constantly be near Caden during the last almost-four years, but it is time to work off those pounds and habits off and get healthy. Like everything else, it's time to move on and leave cancer care behind us.
Sometimes my competitive nature can really be a downer. Swept-off-the-table Settlers of Catan and countless hastily ended games are proof of that. But other times, my competitive nature gets things done. The first week after getting my FitBit, Danielle challenged Ashlee and I to a challenge to see which could get more steps. It just so happens that Ashlee had had a stellar day the day before, but since it was within the workweek of the challenge, it was included in our challenge. Danielle and I both started out approximately 16,000 steps behind her. That just would not do. Not only did I catch up to her that day, I kept my "pace" of 15,000+ steps each day that week. I felt great during the exercise, and proud that I won after starting out so far behind. It was a new personal best, one that I've challenged myself to daily, but not cared as much if I fell short. Since August 29th, I have walked 15,000 steps in one day 40 times, and 20,000 steps in one day 15 times.
Looking for a new challenge for this week's exercises, I decided to look at Ashlee's badges and trophies on FitBit for a personal competition. I was intrigued by one I saw two nights ago: 25,000 steps in one day-- Earned 1 time. I decided right then and there that I would "challenge" Ashlee's badge. I wasn't going to tell her about it, just use it as a personal goal to beat. I accomplished my goal last night. I worked hard all day and met my goal at 10:10pm, running/walking 25,000 steps. That's roughly 12.2 miles in one day. It felt awesome to accomplish this goal. I couldn't remember the name of the badge, so I went onto Ashlee's FitBit dashboard last night-- again, not to tell her about it, but to have a name for my hard work. Only, I couldn't find it on Ashlee's profile. I searched three times, hitting the back arrow and going back into her profile, certain it must be a glitch or something. Nope, not there. In one last ditch effort, not knowing how I could know about a badge if I'd not seen it the previous night, I looked on my own profile. Sure enough, my profile now says: 25,000 steps in one day-- Earned 2 times. And I laughed and laughed. I was trying to secretly one-up myself. I'm not sure how I made the mistake in the first place, but it's not a mistake that I'm disappointed about. I accomplished a very big goal yesterday. And, boy, do I feel it today! I'd say I'm taking steps in the right direction towards becoming healthy. I've set my goals and hit the floor running. Puns. I never run out of 'em. I really need to pace myself.
When I finally reigned in my manic laughter, I looked at Ashlee's profile to see what other badges and trophies she's earned that I have not. Believe me, I was meticulous in researching this time. And I was floored by what I saw. I have earned the 10 floors in on day 17 times, and the 500 total floors 1 time. Ashlee has earned the 10 floors in one day 97 times, 25 floors in one day 7 times, and 1,000 total floors 1 time. And, because I am such a generous sister, I think I'll allow her to keep her Floor Queen reign. I will allow her to one-up me forever more on Floors. I am so generous. Well, and lazy, that too.
I guess I'll make a goal for the future to see if I can get 30,000 in one day. Who knows, maybe they'll even name the badge after me. The too-competitive-for-her-own-good badge. Has a nice ring to it!
Sometimes my competitive nature can really be a downer. Swept-off-the-table Settlers of Catan and countless hastily ended games are proof of that. But other times, my competitive nature gets things done. The first week after getting my FitBit, Danielle challenged Ashlee and I to a challenge to see which could get more steps. It just so happens that Ashlee had had a stellar day the day before, but since it was within the workweek of the challenge, it was included in our challenge. Danielle and I both started out approximately 16,000 steps behind her. That just would not do. Not only did I catch up to her that day, I kept my "pace" of 15,000+ steps each day that week. I felt great during the exercise, and proud that I won after starting out so far behind. It was a new personal best, one that I've challenged myself to daily, but not cared as much if I fell short. Since August 29th, I have walked 15,000 steps in one day 40 times, and 20,000 steps in one day 15 times.
Looking for a new challenge for this week's exercises, I decided to look at Ashlee's badges and trophies on FitBit for a personal competition. I was intrigued by one I saw two nights ago: 25,000 steps in one day-- Earned 1 time. I decided right then and there that I would "challenge" Ashlee's badge. I wasn't going to tell her about it, just use it as a personal goal to beat. I accomplished my goal last night. I worked hard all day and met my goal at 10:10pm, running/walking 25,000 steps. That's roughly 12.2 miles in one day. It felt awesome to accomplish this goal. I couldn't remember the name of the badge, so I went onto Ashlee's FitBit dashboard last night-- again, not to tell her about it, but to have a name for my hard work. Only, I couldn't find it on Ashlee's profile. I searched three times, hitting the back arrow and going back into her profile, certain it must be a glitch or something. Nope, not there. In one last ditch effort, not knowing how I could know about a badge if I'd not seen it the previous night, I looked on my own profile. Sure enough, my profile now says: 25,000 steps in one day-- Earned 2 times. And I laughed and laughed. I was trying to secretly one-up myself. I'm not sure how I made the mistake in the first place, but it's not a mistake that I'm disappointed about. I accomplished a very big goal yesterday. And, boy, do I feel it today! I'd say I'm taking steps in the right direction towards becoming healthy. I've set my goals and hit the floor running. Puns. I never run out of 'em. I really need to pace myself.
When I finally reigned in my manic laughter, I looked at Ashlee's profile to see what other badges and trophies she's earned that I have not. Believe me, I was meticulous in researching this time. And I was floored by what I saw. I have earned the 10 floors in on day 17 times, and the 500 total floors 1 time. Ashlee has earned the 10 floors in one day 97 times, 25 floors in one day 7 times, and 1,000 total floors 1 time. And, because I am such a generous sister, I think I'll allow her to keep her Floor Queen reign. I will allow her to one-up me forever more on Floors. I am so generous. Well, and lazy, that too.
I guess I'll make a goal for the future to see if I can get 30,000 in one day. Who knows, maybe they'll even name the badge after me. The too-competitive-for-her-own-good badge. Has a nice ring to it!
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
Morning?
It feels so weird to realize that this story happened when I was Keilie's age. 9th grade was my favorite time in school, so memorable and fun for so many reasons. My gosh, my daughter is in 9th grade!! Weird. Anyway, we were having a very important cheerleading event the next day, so I went to bed with some excitement mingled with apprehension. I always wanted to be my best self, whether it be pristine uniform, massively back-combed hair, or expertly executed dance moves, while dancing and cheering around in front of a room full of observers. My alarm went off, I jumped in the shower, filled my permed hair with all sorts of product to make it perfect (which means BIG. Utah circa 1996 had some pretty bouffant hairstyles!), using up the last of my product. My hair looked so great! As I started to apply my makeup, a knock sounded at my bathroom door. It was my dad, wondering what I was doing. That was odd-- he was usually gone for work by the time I got ready. "Um... getting ready for school?" (Confusion) "Steph, it's 10:30pm. Go back to bed." Now it was my turn to be confused. It hadn't been my alarm that woke me, but a phone call for my parents. So, I was forced to go to bed with perfect hair, knowing that I didn't have any hairspray for the next day. Awesome. I remember my anxiety as if it happened yesterday.
It kind of did, but not in the same way, actually. Again, it was 10:30pm. I was reading the last of my chapter in my book when I heard some moving around in the family room. Knowing that it wasn't our iRoomba moving around on it's scheduled 11:00pm vacuum sesh, I got up to investigate. I would be lying if I didn't mention that I was freaked out, imagining it was a thief trying to steal my prized possessions. Most likely my piano, I'm sure of it. If I would have had a baseball bat in my room, I probably would have taken it. Warning: I am not afraid to use deadly force when necessary. Deadly force was not needed-- it was my Brennon, warming himself by our Heat Dish. I understood that it is usually dark when he comes down in the morning, that he's still pretty groggy as his body wakes, so the situation wasn't out of the ordinary for him. Time was just running a bit behind for my Brennon last night.
"Brennon, it's not tomorrow. It's 10:30pm. Honey, you need to go back to bed now, kay?"
"I wondered why I was so tired."
Not to worry-- we have plenty of hairspray to do his hair this morning. Also, he doesn't have a perm, so his slept-on hair won't go bush and ugh for a room full of observers to gawk at. So, there's that. Lucky little Brennon!
It kind of did, but not in the same way, actually. Again, it was 10:30pm. I was reading the last of my chapter in my book when I heard some moving around in the family room. Knowing that it wasn't our iRoomba moving around on it's scheduled 11:00pm vacuum sesh, I got up to investigate. I would be lying if I didn't mention that I was freaked out, imagining it was a thief trying to steal my prized possessions. Most likely my piano, I'm sure of it. If I would have had a baseball bat in my room, I probably would have taken it. Warning: I am not afraid to use deadly force when necessary. Deadly force was not needed-- it was my Brennon, warming himself by our Heat Dish. I understood that it is usually dark when he comes down in the morning, that he's still pretty groggy as his body wakes, so the situation wasn't out of the ordinary for him. Time was just running a bit behind for my Brennon last night.
"Brennon, it's not tomorrow. It's 10:30pm. Honey, you need to go back to bed now, kay?"
"I wondered why I was so tired."
Not to worry-- we have plenty of hairspray to do his hair this morning. Also, he doesn't have a perm, so his slept-on hair won't go bush and ugh for a room full of observers to gawk at. So, there's that. Lucky little Brennon!
Monday, January 8, 2018
Ariel
I swear I get laryngitis once per year. I've had it many, many times since we've been married, yet it still surprises me how alienated and lonely I feel when I cannot communicate. It takes twice as long to add something to a conversation, so I kind of have to give up trying. The kids also know that I can't really answer them, so I don't get included in many conversations. Laryngitis is a lonely sickness.
One aspect that I think is so endearing: whispering. They'll be talking to me normally and then whisper after I've "spoken" to them. They don't always realize they're doing it, so when we bring it to their attention, the embarrassed smiles make us giggle. I use the term "giggle" loosely in reference to myself right now. It sounds more like a seal barking. And then choking.
What started out as a sudden sore throat (it actually started while we were having friends over for a game night. Figures) that took my voice on Saturday night, has now turned into laryngitis, sore throat, cough, and now head and face congestion this morning. I am one hot mess! Rawr.
When I was younger (age 8 through last summer), I used to catapult up out of the water, whip my hair back in a beautiful arch, gasping for breath. Then I would swim around, pretending it was my first time using human legs. Believe me, Stephanie-turned-Ariel is freaking majestic! Stephanie-turned-can't talk Ariel-- Eh, not so much.
One aspect that I think is so endearing: whispering. They'll be talking to me normally and then whisper after I've "spoken" to them. They don't always realize they're doing it, so when we bring it to their attention, the embarrassed smiles make us giggle. I use the term "giggle" loosely in reference to myself right now. It sounds more like a seal barking. And then choking.
What started out as a sudden sore throat (it actually started while we were having friends over for a game night. Figures) that took my voice on Saturday night, has now turned into laryngitis, sore throat, cough, and now head and face congestion this morning. I am one hot mess! Rawr.
When I was younger (age 8 through last summer), I used to catapult up out of the water, whip my hair back in a beautiful arch, gasping for breath. Then I would swim around, pretending it was my first time using human legs. Believe me, Stephanie-turned-Ariel is freaking majestic! Stephanie-turned-can't talk Ariel-- Eh, not so much.
Saturday, January 6, 2018
One-Ups
My sisters and I have a running joke about one-upping each other. Case in point: I was talking with Ashlee the other day about living the dream because I was doing laundry all day. She said she had a big project that needed shopping at Costco. I HATE Costco, so I told her that she "won." She immediately wrote back that she is the "ultimate one-upper." It's fun. But when the one-upper mentality comes out when talking about sorrow, I don't think it's very fun at all.
I have had more than one person tell me about other cancer families that lost their only child (or were fighting with their only child) to cancer. Just days after we found the second surprise 2-pound tumor in January 2016, I met a new mom at the Ronald McDonald House. I was still in quite a bit of shock, so it really surprises me that I even talked with this woman. We kind of gave a brief overview of our stories, with her coming up short when I told her we had five kids, that Caden was the oldest, and that we leave the other kids home and basically move to Seattle. She told me that her child was her only one and then proceeded to say,
"I bet it would be hard to lose Caden, but you're lucky that you have more kids. If my child died..."
While talking with a fairly new acquaintance, he was telling me that his friend's son had just passed away from cancer just two days prior.
"He wasn't sixteen, he was 35. Left behind kids. Now that would be hard."
Throughout cancer care, I have had my share of comments made that gave me pause. Things about diet change, never touching plastic again-- ever, essential oils that could have done more for his aggressive cancer than chemo ever could (even though it cannot cure strep throat), a certain water brand that was working wonders for cancer, that living with a terminally ill child was a trial-- but not as hard as {this other trial}, if we would have just been vegan or vegetarian or paleo he would never have gotten cancer in the first place, if we had just done something to boost his immune system, they were sure we could have beat it the first time around... It is hard not to feel judged sometimes, but I had to remind myself over and over and over that these comments were being said to help, and out of love. Because we all bleed and suffer when it comes to cancer.
Let's make a pact:
Cancer Sucks! {Can I get an 'Amen?'} Cancer is hard! But it does not hold the corner on suffering. Losing a loved one is hard-- no matter the age or cause of death. It is all agony. It is not appropriate to "help" a grieving person "feel better" by giving them "harder" situations to think about to belittle or negate their current suffering. I understand that there are no words sometimes (believe me, I know!), but please realize that sometimes words just don't need to be spoken.
I have had more than one person tell me about other cancer families that lost their only child (or were fighting with their only child) to cancer. Just days after we found the second surprise 2-pound tumor in January 2016, I met a new mom at the Ronald McDonald House. I was still in quite a bit of shock, so it really surprises me that I even talked with this woman. We kind of gave a brief overview of our stories, with her coming up short when I told her we had five kids, that Caden was the oldest, and that we leave the other kids home and basically move to Seattle. She told me that her child was her only one and then proceeded to say,
"I bet it would be hard to lose Caden, but you're lucky that you have more kids. If my child died..."
While talking with a fairly new acquaintance, he was telling me that his friend's son had just passed away from cancer just two days prior.
"He wasn't sixteen, he was 35. Left behind kids. Now that would be hard."
Throughout cancer care, I have had my share of comments made that gave me pause. Things about diet change, never touching plastic again-- ever, essential oils that could have done more for his aggressive cancer than chemo ever could (even though it cannot cure strep throat), a certain water brand that was working wonders for cancer, that living with a terminally ill child was a trial-- but not as hard as {this other trial}, if we would have just been vegan or vegetarian or paleo he would never have gotten cancer in the first place, if we had just done something to boost his immune system, they were sure we could have beat it the first time around... It is hard not to feel judged sometimes, but I had to remind myself over and over and over that these comments were being said to help, and out of love. Because we all bleed and suffer when it comes to cancer.
Let's make a pact:
Cancer Sucks! {Can I get an 'Amen?'} Cancer is hard! But it does not hold the corner on suffering. Losing a loved one is hard-- no matter the age or cause of death. It is all agony. It is not appropriate to "help" a grieving person "feel better" by giving them "harder" situations to think about to belittle or negate their current suffering. I understand that there are no words sometimes (believe me, I know!), but please realize that sometimes words just don't need to be spoken.
I am not a confident swimmer. So when I say I am drowning in an ocean of sorrow, please do not dunk me to help me appreciate the gasps of air when I come up.
Friday, January 5, 2018
Dreams
For the last few months (three, to be exact. January 4th was exactly three months since Caden died) I have been working myself feverishly to keep my mind busy. I have looked for ways to serve others, sewing projects, cleaning projects, and of course Christmas. I have worked myself to exhaustion. But I was always so hesitant to close my eyes, because when my mind is quiet, that is when anxiety starts; hence the sleep aid that I was prescribed-- I asked for something that would knock me out. It has been working well. I can see that sleep at night helps me process things more in the day. I can see that it is helping day-by-day towards coming off of it as planned. I am grateful.
However, with this wonderful, medicated sleep comes dreams. To be clear: I have always been one to have very vivid dreams that feel so real, and remember them clearly the next day-- it is not only medication that brings on dreams. Sure, there have been dreams about the horrors that we've witnessed (one was a dream where we met him in ICU with a fresh, massive scar across his tiny belly), because I have dreamt of Caden every. single. night, but there have also been many dreams like the one I woke from this morning: fun, laugh-till-you-cry, don't want to wake dreams with Caden. It was so much fun. It felt so, so real. It made me forget. Until I woke and the first thought was: "It was just a dream. Caden is never coming back." And my heart breaks all over again. Day after day.
Dreams are not the only place to be stuck in a nightmare. Sometimes reality is a nightmare.
However, with this wonderful, medicated sleep comes dreams. To be clear: I have always been one to have very vivid dreams that feel so real, and remember them clearly the next day-- it is not only medication that brings on dreams. Sure, there have been dreams about the horrors that we've witnessed (one was a dream where we met him in ICU with a fresh, massive scar across his tiny belly), because I have dreamt of Caden every. single. night, but there have also been many dreams like the one I woke from this morning: fun, laugh-till-you-cry, don't want to wake dreams with Caden. It was so much fun. It felt so, so real. It made me forget. Until I woke and the first thought was: "It was just a dream. Caden is never coming back." And my heart breaks all over again. Day after day.
Dreams are not the only place to be stuck in a nightmare. Sometimes reality is a nightmare.
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
Therapy
A therapist told a friend a few years back that it was necessary to allow yourself some time to be in a depressed state {sad, gloomy, glum, melancholy}, to let the emotions have their time and be felt, but not let it rule your life. He gave her "permission" to give herself time each day to be sad and cry and wallow in her miseries, but once the timer was up (using an actual timer), get on with her life. I have not felt like I was repressing any of my feelings, but I have definitely cried more the last few days than Thanksgiving and Christmas day combined, leading me to wonder and second-guess the last few months. But then I realize that this negates all of the good days, so I am just going to take it a day at a time, allowing myself to cry when I need, and work and play and laugh when I don't. So that is what I did yesterday when I woke with a black hole vortex sucking me in. I went to "see" Caden.
I cried myself out, not caring that I was "loud" (it was refreshing not to muffle my cries in a blanket so that little ones don't hear all of the emotion in another room), giving myself permission to cry as long as I needed. I talked and verbally said how it felt, how much I missed and love him, and just laid there as long as I needed. It wasn't the cold seeping through my massive blanket and thermals that prompted me to leave-- I truly was done crying. It was time to move on with my day.
I came home to play games with the family. We played a few rounds of Bang!: The Dice Game (our current family favorite), and then pulled out Mexican Train Dominoes. I think playing games as a family is a bit like going to church with children between 12 months to 5 years old. It's not as easy as you'd like sometimes, you wonder why you even bother because of the frustrated emotions it ignites, but it is good to take the time to instill the habits while they're young and just continue for years to come, so you soldier on. Once we were thoroughly annoyed with each other, I got to work cleaning up Christmas and completing Randy's Christmas present: cleaning the garage.
Every item in the garage was touched, moved- if needed- for better organization, put back in their "home" and cleaned to perfection. Randy and I don't do gifts for each other on Christmas day-- It is our way to justify buying large items when we want it through the year. 2014 it was a kitchen remodel, 2016 it was a powder room remodel, 2017 it was family-room couches in October. But... I do like to give the gift of my time. I have done coupon books for massages for a few years. This year it was three hours in one day cleaning the garage.
Like most things when it comes to me, a small project turns into much more. Clean up Christmas became: garage that day (I had planned to do it when the kids went back to school), sanitize the entire house, three loads of laundry, and rearrange the front room. If we would have had paint, it would have probably included painting those hideous walls! Our painter was supposed to come today to match paint and schedule our Free job (we recommend him to everyone!), but he's sick.
2018 Resolution: Get rid of hideous wall color!
What started as a difficult day ended as a feel-good, productive day sprinkled with family fun. It feels so good to have things so open, clean, and organized in every space of our home. Today doesn't feel so heavy and gut-wrenching emotional. I am not so naive to think that I won't struggle because of one therapeutic day, please, but I do plan to give myself conscious permission to cry myself out when needed-- and then get back to the life I choose to make.
I came home to play games with the family. We played a few rounds of Bang!: The Dice Game (our current family favorite), and then pulled out Mexican Train Dominoes. I think playing games as a family is a bit like going to church with children between 12 months to 5 years old. It's not as easy as you'd like sometimes, you wonder why you even bother because of the frustrated emotions it ignites, but it is good to take the time to instill the habits while they're young and just continue for years to come, so you soldier on. Once we were thoroughly annoyed with each other, I got to work cleaning up Christmas and completing Randy's Christmas present: cleaning the garage.
2018 Resolution: Get rid of hideous wall color!
What started as a difficult day ended as a feel-good, productive day sprinkled with family fun. It feels so good to have things so open, clean, and organized in every space of our home. Today doesn't feel so heavy and gut-wrenching emotional. I am not so naive to think that I won't struggle because of one therapeutic day, please, but I do plan to give myself conscious permission to cry myself out when needed-- and then get back to the life I choose to make.
Monday, January 1, 2018
Midnight?
We rang in the New Year with the kids to New York's ball drop. 9:00pm is pretty much perfect when you have littles. There will be a time when we all stay up till Midnight, but that won't be for a few years, until they aren't beasts the next day. The ball dropped, we did some screaming and cheering and more screaming, and then Brennon asked, "Mom, do we get to stay up until Midnight?" Since 9:00pm is their regular weekend bedtime, I thought I was mega generous allowing them to stay up another 30 minutes.
"No, but I'll let you stay up until 9:30pm tonight, to celebrate."
(Three minutes later) "Mom, will you put me to bed?"
So I did. I smiled as I walked up the stairs behind him. Why ask if you "get" to stay up until Midnight if you're ready for bed at 9:00pm?
Since Keilie rang in the New Year at a dance on Saturday night with friends, we asked her to be our babysitter while we rang in the New Year with Jamie, Cameron, and Jamie's Dad, playing games. We had a fun time playing:
Exploding Kittens (even though I was first to lose the first two times we played)
*Bang!: The Dice Game {Thank you, Nate and Rebecca, for this game!}
Fluxx (it was way too late in the night to learn how to play this game)
*Code Names Pictures
*New Games we got this season, along with Lunacy and Mexican Train
Brennon's sleep tracker: 9:10pm- 8:15am
Stephanie's sleep tracker: 2:20am-7:15am
I'd be jealous of Brennon, but I'm too tired.
"No, but I'll let you stay up until 9:30pm tonight, to celebrate."
(Three minutes later) "Mom, will you put me to bed?"
So I did. I smiled as I walked up the stairs behind him. Why ask if you "get" to stay up until Midnight if you're ready for bed at 9:00pm?
Since Keilie rang in the New Year at a dance on Saturday night with friends, we asked her to be our babysitter while we rang in the New Year with Jamie, Cameron, and Jamie's Dad, playing games. We had a fun time playing:
Exploding Kittens (even though I was first to lose the first two times we played)
*Bang!: The Dice Game {Thank you, Nate and Rebecca, for this game!}
Fluxx (it was way too late in the night to learn how to play this game)
*Code Names Pictures
*New Games we got this season, along with Lunacy and Mexican Train
Brennon's sleep tracker: 9:10pm- 8:15am
Stephanie's sleep tracker: 2:20am-7:15am
I'd be jealous of Brennon, but I'm too tired.
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