I See What You Meme

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about Charlotte. She is everywhere. I see her in so many things. Most of the time, the thoughts are happy memories but they are often tinged with a bittersweet sadness and longing.  Around mid-June each year, it starts. For some reason, I'm extra sensitive to different memories or triggers. Some of these make sense. At the end of the school year, as kids are celebrating accomplishments and moving forward in time, I think of Charlotte. She never even made it to Kindergarten. I try to imagine what she would be interested in now, what her summers would look like, who her friends would be. Even with another child who has much to celebrate and keep me occupied, my thoughts fall back to her.  Bear. Just sayin' hello.  Other triggers are more mundane. I was at our chiropractor's office the other day for a regular visit and there was Bear, sitting there staring at me from the kid's play area. I hadn't tho...

If there's one thing I've learned on this parenting journey, it's that everyone travels through this experience looking through a lens that is tinted by their own experiences, the way they were raised by their own family, their education, and their personalities.  From the very beginning of parenthood...even before the child pops out of the womb...we, as parents, are bombarded with suggestions and recommendations. Get a doula. Get an epidural. Don't get an epidural. Don't ever co-sleep. Follow your child's lead. Don't feed them solids until they are six months old. Feed them solids early and they will sleep through the night sooner. Enroll them in classes to stimulate their brain. Let them be "free spirits" and explore and play.  In the words of the great Jimmy Buffett, "If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane." It's with all this in mind that I reflect on one parenting perspective that is unique to those who have ch...

It's been seven years since Charlotte died. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday. The time between early November and the end of January harbors some of the most intense memories from that time in late 2009 and early 2010 when we ran out of medical options and watched her die. On top of that, January 20 marks the date when she was first diagnosed (a year before). It's no wonder that this time of year is hard for our family, emotionally.  Roger calls it "the bus" .  That feeling of grief settles on his chest like a great weight and it stays there. Sometimes it's there for a few days but often it takes up residence for weeks at a time. There's no moving the bus. You just have to let it park for a while.  This guy. Some days he drives me crazy. Without him, I certainly would be. One of the challenges in handling a collective grief is that nobody mourns the same way. The timetable is different. The intensity can be...

I don't have Christmas spirit this year. It's not surprising, given everything that has been going on in our world. Things have been off kilter ever since my mom's diagnosis with multiple health issues in October and has reached a fever pitch over the last few weeks. For more details, you can check out my mom's CaringBridge journal .  As time has inched closer to Christmas, I find myself less and less interested in the holiday this year. We had already decided not to put up a tree because we thought we would be traveling to Florida on Christmas day. All those plans have come to a screeching halt. I was going to do some decorating with smaller items (stockings and wreaths, etc.) but my time has been swallowed up by phone calls with doctors, counselors, family members, and friends. Not to mention four visits to the ER and about eight visits from police officers to our house over the last few weeks.  I realized on Wednesday just how bad it was when I went to a requisi...

Just when you think life is approaching some sense of balance, something comes along to throw you off kilter.  At least that's the way it seems lately.  Many of you heard this week that my mom has been diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma. My mom...and me at about 4 months Although she's been experiencing some medical challenges for a few months, it has taken a while to put all the seemingly disconnected symptoms together and discover the diagnosis. Looking back, it's not all that surprising since Multiple Myeloma is extremely rare (only about .7% of the population has a lifetime risk of contracting it) and really difficult to diagnose in early stages.  Over the last few weeks, I've found myself reflecting with a range of emotions on the entire experience. Here we are again, (almost) eight years later, with a very serious medical diagnosis impacting our family. It is interesting how quickly I can fall back into some of the rhythms that emerge when a loved one is ...

"Sometimes I see your face, The stars seem to lose their place Why must I think of you? Why must I? Why should I? Why should I cry for you? Why would you want me to? And what would it mean to say, That, "I loved you in my fashion"? What would be true? Why should I? Why should I cry for you?" -- Sting   It's been a while, hasn't it? But it's that time of year again.  Sometimes I regret that I'm not writing on my blog nearly as much as I used to. It seems that my posts center around special family events and dates and I'm certainly not as prolific as I used to be. I write lots of things in my head or in my journals that just don't make it to social media and I hope those of you who continue to read my ramblings will accept my apologies for the long pauses in between my thoughts.  I suppose I'm saving it all for my next memoirs. When I'm rich and famous.  [pause for laughter] If I were to sum up my feelings right now abo...

"Death changes everything, but unlike what you may have seen or read, it doesn't offer profundities or epiphanies on its own. There's no time for that. It's only later, after the fact, while you're doing something normal -- cleaning the litter box or buying stamps -- that its power arrives. Because it is only life still going on in the present that makes what you've lost become part of the past."   -- Kristopher Jansma, reflecting on his sister's untimely death from oral cancer I read this last week in the middle of everything involving my father-in-law's death and funeral. There is so much truth in this statement and it has really stuck with me over the last few days.