Category Archives: losing.life

My first husband, and the father of my two boys, was killed in a motorcycle accident in March 2010. Here is where you’ll find some of my journey through the process of grieving, healing and pushing onward.

My heart on my sleeve

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Today is not a good day. I mean, it’s a good day… I’m alive; my family is healthy; we have a lovely home and enough to eat. So I’m grateful. I’m grateful for this life. I’m grateful for everything God has brought me through and I’m grateful for the future that lies ahead of me.

But I’m scared.

And I’m stressed out.

I’m scared that I’m failing at being a mom. I’m scared that my children are going to grow up to be less than they could be. I’m scared that I’m going to wreck them. I’m scared because I don’t know what they need. I’m scared of being inconsistent with them. I’m scared that they’re going to be spoiled. I’m scared the wounding they’ve experienced is going to scar them forever.

I’m scared because I can’t create their future.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7 ESV)

I have held on to this verse for a long time. I have it engraved on a ring I wear. I reach for this verse whenever I feel stressed. I have felt a ton of God’s peace through a lot of significant stuff, but I consistently lose my cool when it comes to parenting. Maybe it’s an indication that I haven’t given my kids over to the will of God. I wrote this just a few short months ago:

What I need to do is remember that my kids are only on loan to me. I have been charged with loving them, teaching them and protecting them but I MUST remember that they belong to God; and parenting is God’s work. He is the one who bears the ultimate responsibility for how they turn out. He is the one who created them with a plan and purpose. He is the one that will work in their hearts as we scatter seeds of faith in their lives and aim, by the grace of God, to pour out the fruits of the spirit in our homes – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. [From With the grace of a kindergarten teacher - published December 16, 2011]

Maybe I still can’t wrap my head around it.

Sometimes my stress is from having a toddler. Mine is an ornery one too. He has been since the day he was born. Mini-man, on the other hand, was never that way. He was the sweetest toddler imaginable. He was agreeable, adaptable, kind, empathetic, loving… here’s a little video from when he was 3 1/2 years old. Not too many kids would shrug that off and laugh.

But mine did.

But now, at 6, he seems so uncertain. I know he’s smart. I know he’s perceptive. But he completely lacks self-discipline in every way and has no regard for authority at all. Some days I’m afraid he’s going to become a sociopath and other days I just think he’s the best thing since sliced bread. Most days, though, are a blend of the two. Most days include asking him to do the same things over and over. Most days include telling him NOT to do the same things over and over. Most days include yelling and time outs and apologies without change. Most days I feel like I’m banging my head up against a wall.

Today is one of those days.

I’ve tried time-outs. I’ve tried the naughty chair. I’ve tried spanking. I’ve tried yelling. I’ve tried taking away toys and TV and movies and Wii and other privileges. I’ve tried a combination of all of the above. I’ve tried more one-on-one time. I’ve tried more sleep. I’ve tried more encouragement and more grace. I’ve tried everything I know how to try and still it seems like my kid is the one who is always in trouble.

Sometimes I find myself saying, “What happened to him?!” But I know what happened… his daddy died. His life was flipped upside down. His heart was broken. His little soul was wounded… and there’s nothing I can do to change what happened.

Every decision I’ve made since Dave died I’ve made with my kids’ best interests in mind. It was Dave that was adamant that his boys needed a strong Christian father and it was Dave that wanted his kids to grow up in a nice house in a nice community. I have done all I can to give our kids the future he wanted them to have… the future we wanted for them together. And I will continue to do everything in my power to raise them the way I believe he would have wanted.

But I can’t bring him back for them.

So now I don’t know if this fundamental shift in Mini-man’s personality is forever. I don’t know if it’s because he lost his dad or if it is just a normal developmental stage. I don’t know if it’s because I re-married and moved him to a new community. I don’t know if it’s because I am too lenient or too strict. I don’t know if it’s because I discipline him too much or because I don’t celebrate enough his successes. I don’t know if he knows how much I love him. I don’t know if he feels secure. I don’t know how to help him find his authentic self. I’m not sure he will ever be back quite the way he was. I’m not sure he ever should be… after all, he’s growing and changing and learning every day. Each new day is shaping his future to something new but to what? It feels like my heart is torn out. I can’t make it better.

I can’t fix him.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe tomorrow he’ll return to kindergarten and be able to listen to his teacher. Maybe tomorrow he’ll remember to clean up his breakfast dishes after himself. Maybe tomorrow I won’t have to ask him 6 times to put his shoes on. Maybe tomorrow he will do as the playground supervisor tells him to do without talking back. Maybe tomorrow he will earn back one of the toys I took away today. Maybe tomorrow I will be a better mom than I am today.

Maybe I’m just crazy. Maybe this is normal.

Maybe it will all be okay.

With an overflowing heart

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Photo: Britannia Willes-Smythe

A year.

It’s a long time. It’s a short time. Some things in this life seem to make time irrelevant. I feel almost as if I’ve experienced more in the last year of my life than I did in the 35 leading up to it. I know that’s not true. But I have grown and changed so much in the last year that I almost don’t recognize myself. And if I’m being honest, I like who I have become far more than the girl I was this time last year.

It’s been almost a year since Dave died.

It will be a year one week from tomorrow but I wanted to post this now… I’m not sure why. It’s not that I don’t want to acknowledge the actual anniversary of his death, it’s just that I think I want that day to just exist inside my head. I don’t want to share it with people. I don’t want to immortalize any date on the calendar for sorrow. It’s not the date of his death that should be remembered… it was the years he lived on this earth that made all the difference to those who knew him and to those he left behind.

I’m not sure I can make any sense of what it is I’m trying to say. The corners of my mind are filled with a million thoughts constantly. I’m sitting here watching the snow fall outside my window… it’s glimmering in the light of the street lamp. It’s beautiful. This time last year was very different. The days were warm and sunny. The day he died was beautiful, yet so different from today. I’m reliving the experiences of last year in my mind as I get ready to celebrate Mini-Man’s birthday once again. So many days come to mind: the day he died – I can still see and hear his friend clearly as he delivered the news through his own sobs… and telling his mom – I’m not sure I’ll ever speak words again that will impact someone so much; going to church the next morning – there’s no where else I wanted to be; meeting with the police at the accident site – fixating on the details and going over and over them in my head for weeks to follow; the memorial service – I still think Dave would have loved it; celebrating Mini-Man’s 4th birthday just 10 days after his dad died. I barely even remember it… I’m grateful to those who braved seeing me in order to help my son feel normal on his special day.

If you had asked me on this day last year where I thought I’d be a year from then, my answer would have been so vastly different from where I find myself now. I can say now, with all honesty, I’m amazed and excited and hopeful about where God is taking me.

March 6th is the anniversary of Dave’s death. April 2nd I’m getting married to Big Mack. I hate that Dave died. I love being with someone I have so much in common with. I hate that my boys have to know what it’s like to grow up without their dad. I love that I can see the life I was destined for laid out before me. I hate that the perfect nuclear family we both wanted to give our kids was not meant to be. I love the hope that I feel about my new family and our ability to live out God’s perfect redemption story. It’s hard to think all these thoughts at the same time. I’m grateful for heavenly peace. I’m grateful for God’s grace in my heart that has given me the ability to simply think these thoughts and not judge myself for them.

I have never felt love the way I feel it right now.

I used to think I settled when I married Dave. I was so wrong. He was the one who settled. I know that now. He deserved more than I gave him. He deserved to be loved the way he loved me. He loved me with an overflowing heart. I wish I’d loved him more. I wish I’d made him happy. I wish I had been able to relate to him better. I wish I’d been a better wife to him. He was good to me. We were excited about our future together.

I’m glad I see with my new eyes. I’m glad Big Mack is understanding. I’m glad I know what it feels like to love with every corner of my heart. I’m glad my boys will have an amazing dad to look up to. I’m grateful for my beautiful boys. I thank God for them. I thank Dave for them. I’m glad Big Mack is a conversationalist. I’m glad we share so many opinions from doctrine to food choices to humour to parenting style. I was committed to making my marriage with Dave good. I think marriage with Big Mack is going to be easier.

It’s bittersweet watching Mini-Man grow to love Big Mack. It’s beautiful watching Mini-Boy play with Big Mack’s nose and seeing them laugh together. It amazes me how much my heart has grown to make space for the 3 Mack kids. I pray every day that I’ll become a better mom. I pray that I will become more fruitful… patient, kind, gentle, self-controlled… I pray I will be a good step-mom too. I pray I’ll be a better cook.

I believe God has good plans for me. I’ve never stopped believing that. I believe what I say I believe. I believe it with my whole heart. I believe Jesus is the redeemer. I believe Dave is being rewarded in heaven and I believe God still has things for me to do in this life. I believe I’ve experienced everything I have for a purpose. I believe I’m becoming who I am intended to be.

The way I can honour Dave’s life is to love as he did.

With an overflowing heart.

If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.

The First Noel

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Photo: Sweet*Shot on Flickr

This year is Mini-Boy’s first Christmas and he seems to sense the excitement… he sure does enjoy the lights on the Christmas tree. Maybe I’m the one who is excited about seeing him unwrap gifts for the first time while dressed in a Santa-suit sleeper on Christmas morning or maybe I’m just making it up.

It’s also the first Christmas without Dave.

We have to do things differently this year. Trying to continue with the same traditions we’d been building together over the years would, no doubt, feel forced and lacking. Not just for me, but for the rest of his family as well.

We used to go over to his mom’s house for Christmas breakfast of eggs in tomato sauce, hot capicollo and pan-fried oysters. We’d open our gifts together while Dave and his mom would begin to try to outdo one another in the kitchen in preparation for a multi-course feast. I think I have his grandma to blame for that one… the first time I participated in one of these meals was at his grandma’s apartment. She managed to serve a 7-course meal for around 12 people from her little galley kitchen. A family friend had mentored me through the process. “Just take a bite or two of each course. You need to be able to make it to the end.” Sage advice indeed.

The first Christmas we spent in our home after we were married, Dave decided to outdo even his grandma (sorry Susan). I lost track of how many courses he served to 14 people from our own tiny galley kitchen. The meal ended with flames in the kitchen as he served up Bananas Foster for everyone. It was pretty spectacular. In years following we have had our Christmas dinners at his mom’s place.

This year I wanted to offer his mom a rest.

I know this is hard for her. My life is in such flux right now that I’m really looking ahead to what is to come and this particular Christmas feels like a sort of single, random Christmas stuck between two existences. I had to fight the urge to not even do Christmas at all, but that wouldn’t have been fun or fair for my boys.

So I’m going to “do” Christmas this year… my way.

I’m not sure how good of a job I’m doing – I’ve never been good at sending out cards – but I got a tree and got it decorated. Dave’s mom helped decorate it with Mini-Man and he’s very excited about seeing the gifts arrive under it. He keeps asking each day, “Is tomorrow the day that there will be presents under the tree?” Sadly, I have come to the conclusion that all the gifts I so diligently bought way ahead of time are not going to wrap themselves and, thus, I must stop procrastinating and get it done. I’m excited about singing for the Christmas Eve services at my church and having Dave’s mom bring the boys there to celebrate before she takes them back to my place to tuck them in for the night. I’ll join her for a Christmas Eve beverage of the adult variety when I get home and we’ll get to work preparing the magic for the next morning. Christmas morning will see a quiet gift-opening at my place and then I’ll be getting busy preparing a turkey dinner.

I’ve never cooked a turkey on my own before.

When I went to Mexico in the early weeks after Dave died I recognized that I’d have to learn to do things that I considered “his job”. For instance, I had to learn to transform transformers. I know, this sounds random… and it is, but it’s similar to cooking a turkey for me. At first I kept resisting Mini-Man’s requests to have Bumblebee transformed because I didn’t know how to do it and I was angry that I even had to… that was Dave’s job. But he wasn’t here to do it anymore.

So I learned.

I sat down one night and spent a good hour figuring it out. When I finally got him from a robot back into a car I had an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. I know it probably sounds stupid, but it began a journey towards my feeling like I can manage. Like I can do all the things I need to do to get by without Dave. And so now I will learn to cook and serve a turkey dinner in the same manner. Well, maybe not the SAME manner… there is no way I’m doing a seafood course and a pasta course and all that stuff. But, I will cook a turkey complete with stuffing, veggies, potatoes, cranberry sauce, gravy and such.

I know I can do it. And I know it will be empowering but bittersweet.

The only one tradition I do want to keep is one we started just a couple of years ago with Mini-Man. On Christmas eve he’ll bake a birthday cake and for dessert after Christmas dinner we’ll sing happy birthday to Jesus and enjoy a piece of cake together.

After all, Christmas is about Jesus anyway. And birthday cake is WAY better than Christmas cake.

So this Christmas I want to embrace its uniqueness, love my family, sing some songs, learn some new skills and life lessons, bless others and thank God for sending the Savior.

And the earth continues to spin

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Photo: Pete on flickr

It’s been over 8 months now since Dave died and the earth continues to spin; creation is alive all around us. The sun rises and sets; the tides change and people are moving around this earth at a harried pace.

As my kids have grown and changed over that short time, so have I. Where once I was blessed to be able to claim a peace that could come only from God in the midst of one of life’s greatest trials, I can now claim something even better: Joy.

My heart is filled with it.

It’s a very profound experience… losing a loved one. So profound that it can’t really be explained. Sure, I can tell you what I’m thinking and what I’ve experienced and how that has played out in my life but there’s really no way for anyone who hasn’t experienced it to understand it in any tangible way. Even for those who have lost someone close to them, their ability to understand someone else’s similar yet entirely different situation is weak.

Even if you think you understand for a second, it’s gone as quickly as it came.

Losing a spouse is different from losing a child or a parent or a grandparent or a sibling or a friend. And me losing my spouse is different from you losing your spouse. I realized that no one can feel what I’m feeling and it can be a very lonely place to be, really. But what it has done is make me dig in and seek out my peace, my comfort and my purpose in God through my relationship with Jesus Christ.

I know Mini-Man is experiencing his father’s death all on his own and that kills me. The fact that I can’t understand exactly what he’s going through in his little 4 year old head makes me want to cry for him. He will one day grow up and realize he had to go through his own process that will likely take much of his life to fully understand. And while I want to help him in whatever way I can, he will one day realize I have no idea what I’m doing and if what I am doing is even helping. I’m still conflicted about the thought that Mini-Boy won’t even ever remember his dad. Is that worse? Better?

I don’t know.

If there is only one thing I do know, though, it is that this lifetime is about relationships. Nothing more; nothing less. Nothing else matters. Not our jobs, not our possessions, not where we live, not our hobbies, not our cars, our houses, our clothes, our appearance. It’s our relationships, our experiences and our unique gifts and histories that paint a picture of life that we can share with others. It’s about loving and living and sharing and giving and enjoying creation. It’s about being good stewards of what we have and using our experiences to comfort others.

It’s about serving one another.

This life is filled with trial. My story certainly isn’t the worst one out there… people have gone through far worse situations than mine: war, famine, poverty, violence, oppression, abandonment, abuse. I don’t feel sorry for me… never have. God knows the bigger picture. And just because I don’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

And I trust in that bigger picture.

The earth continues to spin. My heart is joyful. God is working out a beautiful story in my life. I am engaged to be married again. I have no explanation or apology for this and I believe with all my heart that it’s part of that bigger picture… God’s plan.

I will write more as thes story continues to unfold.

If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.

Life in a fish bowl

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Photo: Alloppp on Flickr

I know that being a blogger and sharing of my life with the entire internet kind of puts me out there. I get it. I have chosen this. But I’d like to vent for just a moment.

I’m a little angry.

Maybe it’s a grief thing; but maybe it’s just a human thing. I don’t react well to being judged by others. I never have. All my life I’ve been the kind of person to endure overwhelming anxiety at the thought of letting anyone down – especially those I care about. I care so deeply that I can’t bear the thought of people being even the slightest bit disappointed in me.

But here’s the thing: I’m a big girl now; this is my life and I’m the only one who can live it.

I am not unaware that everyone seems to have their own opinion about how I should conduct myself in my personal life in light of my husband’s death. It’s one thing to have an opinion but it’s another altogether to voice it to me… or worse: to other people. What irritates me even more is I hear that those who are sharing their opinions don’t even know me at all; they just know of me. I have been given plenty of opinions to date: I have been told I shouldn’t date anyone until my kids are grown up and I have also been told I’m completely unavailable for an emotional relationship and, therefore, I should simply have indiscriminate sex with whomever I like.

Well thank you for your wisdom all. Now that I know the outer parameters of my situation, please allow me to select a point on that spectrum for further consideration, m’kay?

I don’t mind being vulnerable. I don’t mind sharing my situation in hopes that someone might benefit somehow from something I might say. I hope I can inspire people or, at the very least, make people smile or laugh. I’ll even share some thoughts and emotions that might make your gut churn at the thought. I have always been painfully honest… blunt even. But at least no one can say I’m not genuine. I would hope those who have been following my story – especially those who claim to care about me and my kids – can find it within themselves to recognize that this has been a crazy year for me and it’s not done yet. I may not be sitting around my home crying my eyes out and seeing a therapist, but this has definitely been the most profound thing I’ve ever dealt with. And I am dealing.

Please be gentle with me; I’m not heartless.

Here’s the explanation for my peace and my joy: I still completely believe God’s hand is directing my life. I believe He has been guiding me and preparing me and molding me and leading me to where I am today… through meeting and marrying Dave and having my kids right down to introducing me to the man I have chosen to pursue a new relationship with. I believe God has redeemed everything I’ve ever done that was outside of His perfect plan for my life and I believe He is going to take me into my future. I have complete peace about what I’m doing. My faith has never been stronger than it is right now and those of you who don’t believe as I do won’t understand it. Oh how I wish you could. I wish you could see the world through my eyes for just one day. I wish for that – no, I pray for that – all the time.

If you know me, please trust me. Trust that I know what I’m doing. I’m pretty intelligent and I’ve never given anyone a reason not to trust me. You don’t have to worry about me or my kids. In fact, when others say they worry about my kids I find it insulting. I love my kids more than anyone else on earth and I’d never do anything I felt wasn’t in their best interest.

And if you don’t know me well enough to know where I’m really coming from, please don’t judge me. You aren’t living my life.

The Story of Me: Volume 3

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Photo: Eric M Martin on Flickr

Volume 1

If my life was a story made up of various chapters in multiple volumes, Volume 1 could be called “Michelle: the daughter of her parents”.

That first volume told the story of a girl’s childhood. It told countless anecdotes that each had a lesson… the moral of the story just like every fairy tale. Those stories molded the young girl into the person she would start to become as an adult. In the first volume, her parents were her source of knowledge, strength, inspiration, hope, and wisdom. Her parents were the key influencers and taught the girl what they felt were the necessities of this lifetime as they saw it. It was a beautiful book filled with love, opportunity, encouragement, security and discipline and it set the foundation for volume 2. Volume 1 ended with hope and excitement as the now young woman finished her education, began to establish an adult life and caught a glimpse of what it might take to build the future she was only just starting to imagine.

Volume 2

Volume 2 could be titled “Michelle: on becoming a wife and mother”.

Volume 2 began with the now young woman meeting the man she would go on to marry, learning to function together with him and learning what it really means to love someone apart from herself. It was filled with chapter upon chapter of ups, downs, learning experiences, growth experiences, laughter and tears. It told the story of the young woman following her heart wherever it would lead, even if that was into some pretty treacherous territory. As the story unfolded her eyes were opened up to some very important life lessons on marriage, on child-rearing, on connections and interpersonal relationships… on faith. In this story, she transitioned from looking to her parents for love and guidance to seeking out those things from her marriage partnership and growing her character with the help of an expanded sphere of influence.

Just before the end of volume 2, the woman’s husband was killed tragically leaving a sense of chaos and deafening silence in her life and her home. What an odd ending to such a beautiful volume. When you got to the end you might say, “It must have had some pages torn out.” If it were a movie you would say, “Well, they have to make a sequel; it can’t end like that.” Here’s the thing… there’s a tiny little piece of the story hiding at the end of that second volume that, if you don’t pay close enough attention, you could miss entirely. It’s a short scene that is pretty vital to understanding and enjoying the sequel. It’s that bit that you might only catch as you re-read the book for the second or third time. In fact, most people won’t ever re-read it and that full understanding remains reserved for the story’s author alone.

At the end of volume 2, a divine peace permeates the protagonist’s life. She finds herself pondering every moment up until that point and every hope for the future. She sees that the future she once expected and dreamed about will now never come to pass but she can also see that she’s not alone in this journey: The author of life itself knows how the story will unfold.

She’s actually been given a precious gift: the ability to co-write a new future with strengthened faith borne out of her helplessness; the ability to co-write a new future while applying every lesson learned from volumes 1 and 2; and the freedom to boldly step into that new future with excitement and anticipation thanks to her steadfast faith.

Volume 3

Volume 3 has begun: “Michelle: destiny awaits”.

So volume 3 is now just starting to be written, but it has indeed begun. I know everyone has an opinion on what I should think, feel, do in light of my husband’s death. Whether you end up sharing it with me or not, I know you have an opinion. And it’s okay. The truth is, I have been given the opportunity to take everything I know about me, my faith, my kids, my hopes, my likes, my dislikes, my wishes and earnestly seek exactly what I’m looking for without compromise. That’s the silver lining.

I really don’t want to be alone. I don’t think this life is meant to be lived alone. God said, “It is not good for a man to be alone.” I want someone to share my life with, to share my experiences with… someone to share parenting with. I want someone who will help to model a healthy marriage relationship to my kids. I want someone who will be my partner and hold me up when I’m on shakey ground. I want someone to help teach my boys how to be men. I want someone to lead my family. That’s what is missing. And I believe God wants that for me too.

If I were to create a list of criteria for a perfect partner it would include:

  • Must love God and have a personal relationship with Jesus
  • Must love kids and have some of his own but desire no more
  • Must have been married and understand all that entails
  • Must have a stable job or at least a really strong work ethic
  • Must have a strong desire to grow in faith
  • Must be around my age, give or take 5 years or so
  • Must have a huge heart
  • Must be willing to commit for better or worse
  • Must be willing to accept that I will always speak lovingly about my late husband to my kids – this will last 20 years or more
  • Must be willing to pray together
  • Must be willing to fill the role of mentor to my boys
  • Must be willing to carry on a dating relationship the way God would want

So yeah, I assumed I’d never meet someone that would be a perfect match. That is, after all, quite the list of demands, right?

Well… it turns out it’s not so far-fetched after all.

I have met someone new who I am very much enjoying getting to know. Too soon? Not when the hand of God is all over it. The human heart has an extraordinary ability to overcome. In some ways, I think moving beyond the death of a spouse may be easier than moving beyond a broken marriage where one person chose to leave. Especially for a believer. I fully believe my late husband has reaped the ultimate reward… we should all be so blessed! I don’t have to feel hurt that he chose to leave. I don’t have to feel sadness that he won’t see his boys grow up – he’s in heaven worshiping the Almighty Creator! I just have to cherish his memories, honour him as I raise our boys and know that one day I’ll worship around the throne with him.

I’m excited about what the future holds for me and my boys and I’m ready to dive in and write volume 3. I hope you will sit back and enjoy watching the story unfold without judgement.

If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.

Only good memories remain

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It’s five months tomorrow since Dave died. It’ll also be my birthday.

The last time I shared my thoughts on the process of dealing with this was two months ago and life is beginning to make sense again. The fog has lifted some and I’m starting to feel more comfortable with day to day living as a single mom. I’m really grateful it’s summer because the late afternoons out at parks and beaches and hanging out in Dave’s mom’s back yard by the pool gives me a great excuse to order take-out dinners or eat picnic foods. I’m still not particularly skilled in the kitchen but I’m very much looking forward to getting a new barbecue and eating a steak for the first time in 5 months. Adding to the challenge of the dinner hour is that mini-boy is now fully involved in the food scene and so I have to make sure I have adequate soft cooked, chopped and minced foods for a 7 month old to gum. I’m very much looking forward to when he and mini-man can eat the same meal.

I miss him every day.

I still get regular reminders that he’s gone… a letter in the mail “To the Estate of…”, mini-man blowing a dandilion and wishing for his dad back, a realization that there’s something I don’t know how to do that Dave would have – like switching the hard and soft tops on our Jeep… and I still sometimes get broadsided by something that I didn’t expect. For instance, last weekend I took both kids and Dave’s mom to see The Lion King at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre. I LOVED the movie and I had heard such great things about the musical that I just had to go. Well… I probably should have thought a little about the plot before heading out all excited. The part where little Simba sits trying to wake up his dead lion dad was painful and a couple of songs in the second act had me wishing I wasn’t there… I’m glad I ended up in the crying room with mini-boy; I think I may have cried more than he did. The show was amazing, but it sure was excruciating to watch.

I think the thing that breaks my heart the most is thinking about my boys growing up without their dad. In fact, that was the very first thought I had when I found out he’d been killed.

I have some good male friends who have been hanging with mini-man lately and getting some quality guy time in with him… he’s absolutely craving male attention. You know, wrestling, kicking stuff, playing with swords etc. He will take it wherever he can get it… and that is fine for now. Even if and when another man might come into our lives, he’ll never be their father. He’ll never care quite as much. No one could possibly care quite as much as Dave did. But I do trust that God will build a beautiful story from my boys’ lives even without their dad.

I’m still working on organizing our home.

I have an overwhelming need to get it to a certain level of livability with two kids and only one person to pick up after all three of us… especially before I go back to work in January. I’m a little scared of going back to work. I can’t imagine how I can run my household, adequately parent two children and work a full time job… but plenty before me have done it. I’m sure I’ll learn. It’s kind of strange… you would think losing my husband while my youngest was so teeny-tiny would have been the worst thing; but in all honesty, that has been a huge blessing. The fact that I will have had almost a full year before I have to go back to work has helped tremendously with living through this ordeal I’m sure. Knowing I can just focus on myself, my kids and our home has been one of the things I’m most thankful for.

For the most part I’ve gone through all of Dave’s stuff and have two very full boxes of keepsakes… photos, journals, his bible, some clothing – particularly t-shirts that appear in the photos – tie clips, cuff links, the neck chain he wore when we got married, his poker chips and playing cards… I’ve tried to save everything that the boys could one day use to connect their dad to the memories or things they could simply use and enjoy. I have yet to go through his dive gear and figure out what to do with all of it and I haven’t yet touched our storage locker in the basement. I also have a bunch of motorcycle gear I’ll probably just keep – his jacket, my jacket, a couple of helmets, gloves, and a big riding backpack etc. Not that I think I’ll ever get back on a bike at this point… but the truth is I know Dave would still want his boys to ride one day. I’ll tackle that when the time is right.

I’ve had the old barbecue taken away – Dave had been complaining that it was dead and we needed a new one, I’ve put up a bunch of new toy shelves in the boys’ room and I’ve had all the carpet and upholstery cleaned. Now I just want to finish clearing all the paperwork and stuff off my dining table and get the new barbecue picked up and put together. I know I won’t feel totally peaceful even then… it still feels like I need to do stuff. But I think it will help to feel like I’m kind of settled in now for the long haul… or at least the next couple of years. I’m still holding out hope that I will be able to buy a house once I’ve settled with ICBC.

I have a few things that I’m looking forward to.

In September I’m taking the boys and Dave’s mom to a bereavement camp called Camp Kerry and my parents want to take me and the boys to Mexico in November sometime. That will be nice. Plus, a while ago, I won a week in St. Maarten from Porto Cupecoy so I’m hoping to take that in March next year – by then mini-boy will be old enough for me to leave him with Dave’s mom and mini-man and get some quality adult-only time with a girlfriend. I’ll likely be spending Christmas at Harrison Hot Springs as well – we want to do something different so we’re not just kind of having the same celebration we always have minus Dave. That would be too hard.

I have found a couple of online resources that have been a source of comfort to me:

  • Young Christian Widow – a blog written by a woman who lost her husband to brain cancer and who is raising her three boys
  • Widow’s Voice – a blog written by a variety of widows and widowers

I am also planning to join in the Grief Share program at Valley Church in September.

Over all I do feel a certain amount of peace that I can only attribute to God. I have been able to be very kind to myself, allowing myself every thought, every deed, every self-indulgence, every angry moment or sad moment without self-judgement… again, that can only be from God given how hard I normally am on myself. Dave’s death has, no-doubt, changed me in some profound ways… I’m sure I haven’t even discovered the half of it yet.

It’s funny… when I think about Dave now, all that remains is the good stuff. I mean, I know the bad stuff was there, but it fades into the background of my memory bank leaving only the happy memories to be enjoyed. All the disagreements, hurts and trouble we’d shared over more than 10 years become a distant past and the only important stuff… the stuff I’ll cherish and remember always, are his dreams, strengths… his love and commitment to his family, his joy of life and what he wanted for our family. I hope I can honour his dreams for our family without him.

I’m so very grateful for my family and my friends who have really stepped up to love on me and the boys. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.

Time Stands Still – The Story Continues

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Photo: Ruud Raats on Flickr

Three months.

It feels like forever and it feels like just yesterday. This weekend marks three months since Dave died and here is the continuation of my story. While most of the time I’ve felt fairly peaceful, this weekend was hard. It was shaping up to be a fantastic weekend: I had two music rehearsals on Saturday and was doing the music for my church on Sunday. I love a weekend full of music… something about it is so soothing.

Saturday morning started out well. I got mini-man settled at a friend’s house for a play date then took mini-boy to the church where another friend was going to spend the morning with him while I attended my rehearsals. I then headed up to school where the Black Bear Band was meeting for our final rehearsal before our last gig of the season – the Ladner Band Festival (gotta love the website – 1996 word art, but I digress…) on June 12th. Rehearsing wasn’t the reason I was attending, though… see, our music director – one of the top names in music instruction in the Vancouver area for the last 30 years or so – is leaving us and one of the band members composed a tribute piece in his honour. Saturday was the day we surprised him by performing it for him. To be honest, I was more emotional than I thought I’d be. While the band will, of course, go on, doing so without our fearless leader will be a real shift for us… but such is life I suppose.

So after the tribute piece was presented I had to jet to get to the church for my rehearsal for Sunday. I love singing with these guys… I’ve written before about how music affects me, but even amidst life’s trials, I feel like I was created to make music for God. Like that’s why he made me.

Sidenote: It’s so strange when I think back about it… when I was young – maybe in my teens – I did one of those career quizzes… the ones that tell you based on your likes and dislikes, interests and abilities, what you should consider doing for a living. Well the first suggestion was “Composer” and the second was “Music Director”… I thought, “Yeah… sure. You got the wrong girl.” But here I am some 20 years later writing music. Funny that.

After my rehearsal at the church I heard the Black Bear Band had gotten together at the pub… SOP after rehearsals and I was suddenly sad I couldn’t join them because I had mini-boy with me. I wanted so badly to spend a little more time with them before we break for the summer, but also found myself feeling very lonely given that I couldn’t get my mind off missing Dave. I wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by friends and laughter. I ended up letting the baby nap in the car while I ate take-out sushi and listened to some music in the mall parking lot. Yep, really exciting. All the while wishing I had some people to hang out with on this now beautiful day.

I cried.

I don’t cry often. I cry mostly when I’m stressed or frustrated… and I cry when I’m overwhelmed with joy and gratitude. But not usually for sadness; it’s very weird I guess. Maybe I just avoid it. It makes me uncomfortable. In addition to having two kids who keep me extremely busy most of the time, I’ve filled my life with sweet distraction… most likely to avoid facing the fact that Dave is, in fact, gone. Sometimes I still don’t believe it. Sometimes I feel like I didn’t love him enough though I know I loved him with all of me. I still do… and I see him in my babies. I can’t imagine ever not missing him terribly.

Many of my friends and family have been wonderful… some people I barely knew before March have been my biggest supporters and some people I thought would be there for me have been noticeably absent. My new friend Brenda has been a God-send to me. She has three kids of her own and the oldest is 4 ( a great match to play with my 4 year old – win!), yet she is so willing to take the kids for me when I need to go to appointments or even just out for a run. We have great conversations and I feel like I can tell her anything without fear of judgement. She has really made this much easier on me… I only hope that she doesn’t tire of me and my requests and that one day I’ll be able to repay her or at least pay it forward.

I’ve become very wary of single men. I have had a couple of single male friends who have just given me a vibe that made me uncomfortable and, while I am absolutely craving male attention, I don’t want to even put myself in the position to have someone seek out something I am completely unprepared to give. I am in no way, shape, or form “on the market”. So mostly I’m avoiding men altogether… even my friends. Even when I do find myself in a position to want to date again… the field is narrow my friends. Very. Narrow.

So for now I’m swinging between writing and playing music, staying active by getting to the gym and out to run as often as I can, learning to be a better mother (I picked up new art supplies and, get this… baking supplies just the other day for the next rainy afternoon at home), and avoiding my emotional reality at all costs.

We’ll see what the next month brings.

If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.

Where in the world is Wilkie, Saskatchewan

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This past week I had the pleasure of travelling to a tiny town in western Saskatchewan to visit Dave’s dad, John, and his wife Margot. I’ve met them twice before, but haven’t seen them since before Dave and I were married. I thought in the wake of Dave’s death, it would be good to establish the relationship between them and our sons. They are, after all, family.

Dave and his dad had a tough relationship and some massive miscommunications, coupled with baggage from the past, led to some less-than-agreeable words passing between them. However, I believe that Dave – with his heavenly wisdom – would have wanted his dad to get to know his kids. So we headed off to Wilkie, Saskatchewan on Monday.

Wilkie is about 160km northwest of Saskatoon. A cute little town with a population near 1200 it is tiny but has some character. John & Margot run a bed & breakfast there called the Pioneer Parish Bed & Breakfast – an old church they’ve converted. They live downstairs in the old church basement, which they have completely renovated and restored, and have built two guestrooms on the main floor in the church sanctuary. The place is cute – it’s full of antique trunks, art etc. and they have it set up to do karaoke every so often with the people of Wilkie. Dave always did have fond memories of his dad on a guitar… mini-man had a great time playing guitar with his Papa John.

Pioneer Parish Bed & Breakfast

Mini-Man with Papa John

Me & the boys with Papa John & Margot

It was really a great visit despite the snow blowing sideways on May 4th and temperatures that never got much above freezing. We stayed up way too late at night talking about all kinds of things and just basically getting to know one another. I’m very glad we went. Mini-boy was a champ and thrilled everyone with his huge smiles; he even slept well… not sure why he won’t replicate the good sleeping at home, mind you. Mini-man was fairly well-mannered and charmed all the ladies as usual (his father’s son lol).

If I have learned anything through Dave’s death it’s that life is all about the people around you – your family and friends. That’s all there is when it comes down to it.

If you have anyone in your life with whom you share a strained relationship, I urge you to seek them out, try and look at life from their perspective and work it out. Talk. I think sometimes when kids grow up we try and maintain a parent-child relationship to some extent even though we are children no longer. It’s really a very valuable exercise to get to know your parents or your children as adults… firstly it likely makes for way better conversation, but secondly I think we can continue to learn and grow from the wisdom of our parents. I also think parents can learn from the wisdom of their adult children… if they can see past the troubled teen they once knew.

Now go… give your loved ones a hug and tell them you love them.

And by the way, if you’re ever in Wilkie, Saskatchewan and looking for a place to stay, give John & Margot a call at the Pioneer Parish Bed & Breakfast at (306) 843-2719. They’re lovely and gracious hosts.

Sharing my story with the world

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Well, it’s official. I have become a mommy blogger… or at least I’ve been recognized as one. I was nominated by Vancouver Mom as one of Vancouver’s top 30 Mom-Bloggers. I think I have Karl Woll from Outdoor Vancouver to thank for that (thanks Karl!) I am flattered and it has made me think about my blog and consider writing again.

I haven’t written since my husband’s death for a few reasons: Firstly, the myriad thoughts in my head can often be confusing and move so swiftly I couldn’t imagine coming up with anything coherent to say in one sitting; secondly, I had never wanted to be a mom blogger but at this time in my life I have very little else to discuss aside from my husband’s death and my grieving process; lastly, I wasn’t really ready to share that grieving process with the world as I didn’t want to crank out posts that would just make people feel sorry for me.

Now that a couple of months have passed I can think more clearly and want to begin sharing my new story with you. Blogging sure puts you out there and it really can take quite a commitment to sharing some of these thoughts in hopes that they may have some kind of profound effect on someone somewhere.

So here goes…

Dave and I were together 10 1/2 years. We were married for 5 1/2 of those years and our oldest son just turned 4 in March and our youngest is now 4 months old. Dave and I had quite a crazy relationship and it took a lot of learning and a lot of commitment to make it work and to make it good. In the last 2-3 years we had really learned to live for each other, parent together… we’d become one. But it took a long time to get there. We were both excited about the future – Dave especially. I was more nervous because I don’t really like uncertainty, but he made me feel safe.

I would have gone anywhere with him.

As tragic as his death was, I really feel like God prepared me and my heart for it. It’s only in retrospect of course that I can see it, but a combination of leading and revelation in my life somehow put the pieces together to where it made sense. I had been writing about how I felt God’s leading to stop working so hard and take time to enjoy my family even though I thought I was working hard FOR my family. Dave was off work from an injury and we had no idea what he’d end up doing or how he’d make a living and yet I felt overwhelmingly like I was not to focus my attention and time on my career, which is totally counterintuitive for me. Since our youngest son, “mini-boy”, was born in December and until the day Dave was killed, we spent every day together as a family enjoying one another – going to parks, beaches, playing video games, day trips… talking about our dreams and learning how to live our new life as a foursome.

That time was absolutely precious and I believe it was a gift.

You know how you live with some kind of expectation for the future? You have a plan… you can envision where you’ll be 6 months from now, a year from now and you have a picture of where you want to be 3, 4, 5 years from now? We didn’t have that. We were living each and every day trusting God would work his plan in our life, that he would provide for our financial needs and that things would work out in whatever way they would. We had talked about how we both felt overwhelmingly like something astronomical was going to happen in 2010 that would change our life forever; we just didn’t know what that would be.

We were excited about it.

In the week before he died he had done so many things that, in essence, made my life after his death all that much easier. He had moved around all the furniture in our bedroom and put up the crib for mini-boy; he had cleaned out both vehicles and had our main vehicle serviced; we had gone grocery shopping and stocked up our home not only with food, but with all those household things you need but hate to buy – laundry soap, diapers, razor blades, paper towel, cleaning supplies, aluminum foil etc… you get the picture. Finally, the morning he died he had even done all the laundry lol!

Dave liked to do some crazy things: aside from riding motorcycles he enjoyed scuba diving, skiing… we’d gone skydiving together a couple of times. He lived closer to the edge than most. For that reason, I had actually had to consider what my life would look like if he were to die. I know that sounds morbid, but I had thought about it – we had to. We had discussed how much life insurance to buy, we have some good friends who have agreed to raise our boys if I go too, and we had discussed final arrangements. I just never thought I’d need to use any of that information. In a way, though, that made getting through these last two months much easier than it otherwise could have been.

My mom had a friend who had always said, “When I go I want to get hit by a bus in a good neighborhood.” Saturday, March 6th – a day I’ll never forget – was a beautiful day. Dave had wanted to get out for a little ride because the rest of the week was supposed to be rainy. He took the boys in the morning so I could go get a workout – my favourite cardio-kickboxing class at Champions Academy, then he picked me up and took us home and got all geared up to go for his ride. He was planning to run an errand out to a bike shop in Langley and then meet up with friends who were riding from Maple Ridge; he planned to travel back home to the North Shore with them. He left our place at 12:30 and was planning to be home by 3 to go hiking with me and the boys at Lynn Canyon. Boy, how life can change in an instant.

In the end it was a beautiful day, he was excited about his future, things between us were good, he was enjoying the company of friends and doing something he was ridiculously passionate about and his death was instantaneous. Ultimately his heart was unplugged and I’m confident he didn’t feel a thing. Now, if there is a GOOD way to die… I suppose that’s it. Our last words were “I love you!” “I love you too… ride safe.” “I will,” he responded. And I know he did.

But what will be will be… I have seen the hand of God all over our life together. I wouldn’t even have my faith and salvation if it weren’t for my relationship with Dave. His life made a difference on this earth and he’s left a lasting legacy. I believe I will see the redemption following his death and I hold tight to that faith.

So now that I’ve got that much out, I’ll be sure to share more of me with you in the coming days, weeks, months.

In other news, I decided to get myself a Mother’s Day gift this year – I just picked up the brand new Canon Rebel T2i. I figure you can never have enough photos and videos of your loved ones… might as well make them good ones. The above photo is one I took while trying it out yesterday with mini-man. Can’t wait to take it off auto…

If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.