Thursday, October 30, 2008

Very Quick Update . . .

Well, I finally got my drink--a whiskey sour to be exact. My friend Di invited me out to dinner, so we went to Maxie’s Southern Comfort on a gift card (Thanks, Jill!) and had a perfectly pleasant evening. Jeff’s mom is visiting through the weekend and she generously babysat the kids so I could go out. Aubrey and Regan were at a volleyball game while Jack and Finn enjoyed one-on-one time with Grandma. The kids’ fall break is off to a roaring good start.

Tomorrow will bring even more excitement: Halloween! We’re having friends and neighbors over for dinner and trick-or-treating. I can’t wait. All the kids have really great costumes this year. I’ll post another update—complete with pictures—after tomorrow’s festivities. Until then, thanks as always for continuing to check in. I appreciate knowing you’re there.

Kelly

Saturday, October 25, 2008

My Mr. Miyagi Moment

I can't let the day end without acknowledging that Jeff died exactly one month ago today. I'm starting to appreciate just how much this is gonna suck.

I finally had my "Mr. Miyagi moment" tonight after I worked myself up into a sufficiently potent (and pathetic) mood of self-pity. First, I have to say that self-pity is hard for me to come by. My natural disposition is just stoic enough that I generally feel sorry for no one--and this includes myself. I mean, young parents die of cancer all the time. It is not an uncommon tragedy. And I dare say most of them leave their families in far worse positions than Jeff left us. We are fortunate to have enough food and money and medicine; I have a good job and nannies and a cleaning lady and more offers of help than I could ever accept. I have friends and neighbors who are extraordinarily rare in their generosity and overall helpfulness; my children are well-adjusted and happy; we are healthy; my kids will continue to live in the same house and go to the same school and have the same friends and teachers and bikes and bedrooms and backyard that they had before cancer ever invaded their lives.

And even when cancer came, it struggled for 21 months in the inhospitable atmosphere Jeff created for it and although it claimed his left leg and, ultimately, his life, it never claimed his wits or his pleasantness. Jeff was "Jeff" until the end. There was never a moment when he did not recognize us; never an instance of unconscious aggression; no scary memories of seizures. So, as terrible as it is and has been-- cancer and treatment and Jeff's death and the month that has followed have all been very humane considering the possibilities of what it could have been like, and what could have happened to us; and after considering what does happen to other young families who do not have all the blessings and good fortune and fairy dust that we apparently have. So, (before you wonder where I'm going with all this), these are just a few of the reasons why I find it hard to feel sorry for myself.

However, tonight was an exception. Today two of my dearest friends--married with kids-- mentioned that tonight was "date night" for them. The idea of a "date night" with my husband only emphasized how unmarried I am and how no night is "date night" for me. How there is no one to get dressed up for. Nothing to get excited about. Nothing to talk about and no one to listen. No one to point out the things on the menu that I might like. No one who'll pick-up the tab and pay with our money then drive us home to our house in our car. These thoughts especially stung because I spent "date night" crying through a dinner I ate at our kitchen table alone.

Aubrey had to babysit one of Regan's friends tonight and Regan was invited to come along. A friend brought dinner over, but by the time it arrived and we were done visiting (and by the time I got everything and everyone to the table), it was time for the girls to leave. They took their plates with them and Jack finished his dinner while I fed Finn. Only then, could I, myself, eat and by then Jack was in the basement watching a movie and Finn was playing on the floor. I was so exhausted and sad that I just started to sob. It concerned Finn enough that he came over and crawled in my lap and gave me a sweet baby hug. As I sat there eating and crying, it made me think of a scene from the move Karate Kid (which was one of Jeff's favorites, by the way). In it, Daniel quietly watches Mr. Miyagi mourn his dead wife on the anniversary of her death. Mr. Miyagi gazes at her candlelit picture as he sobs to her in Japanese--all while completely drunk.

Likewise, on the anniversary of Jeff's death (albeit the one-month anniversary) I indulged in my self-pitying ritual while I ate and cried and I had no excuse as good as utter drunkenness.

Hasn't anyone the decency to offer me a drink?

Kelly

Thursday, October 23, 2008

cheerleading+Chanel+classic horror movies + dances= aubrey's life!
















hey everybody!! it's aubrey! i was just posting a blog because i was pretty bored and i thought you might all want to know what i've been doing lately. the title of this blog pretty much sums up what's going on with me right now, but i'll give you details ;) let's start from the beginning.....
as you can see from the photo on the left i've been cheerleading! if you don't already know (even though you probably do) i made cheerleading captain a while back, and our first game is on Tuesday, November 4th. all of the new cheerleaders are really psyched up for it and i'm excited too! the other captain and i have really whipped the new girls into shape and now they are totally ready for the first game. they also all have really good atitudes which is awesome :)) anyway, cheerleading is taking up a lot of my time and energy, but it's super fun so it's worth it.
when im not cheerleading, i'm getting ready for halloween (hence, the jack-o-lantern in the top right). incase you can't tell, the jack-o-lantern has the Chanel symbol carved in it. i couldn't think of a face to make, so i made a designer label, which i think is really cute and i don't care if you think it's stupid or not :) this halloween i'm going trick-or-treating with my best friends and then we're getting scary movies. i don't really like trick-or-treating because i think it's cold, it gets boring after, like, 20 minutes, and it takes WAY too much effort to put together a halloween costume. but it's nearly impossible for me not to have fun when i'm with my best friends! also the trick-or-treating will be completely worth it at the end of the night when we're on a huge sugar high getting scared to death by classic horror movies. speaking of horror movies, incase you actually care which ones we're getting, we will be watching "The Changeling" "Hide and Seek" and something else but i forgot what. (we might not get "hide and seek" though because we don't want to be scared to take showers, lol!)
well, other than that i haven't been doing much lately... there's a dance at my school tomorrow so i'm going to that. but other than that nothing excited has happened lately or will happen in the near future that i know of. gotta go! love you all :D



aubrey kate

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Weekend Report



Wow! What a weekend. I dare say it's one of the best weekends we've had in a while. On Saturday morning, Regan played soccer (her team won!) and our dear friend, Tony, came to watch her play. Afterwards, Tony's wife and twin daughters (who are Finn's age) met up with us at our house. The kids played in a big leaf pile in our yard and we all had lunch before heading off to the Pumpkin Farm! Yay! Although this pumpkin farm had a bit of a twist--instead of offering the usual hay rack rides to a pumpkin patch, it was also a petting zoo.

Now, as an aside, when I think of "petting zoo" I think of goats, rabbits, maybe even a pony; so, I was a little taken aback when I saw the big Siberian Tiger in what looked like a tricked-out dog kennel. Oh well, at least they left three-inches of jagged chain link at the top of the 10-ft high fence surrounding the tiger so that if it flew into a rabid frenzy and climbed the chain link (which I imagine a TIGER could easily do) it would at least suffer some slightly uncomfortable belly scratches before it devoured anyone. I'm sure the prospect of a completely superficial scratch will make it think twice before it tries to jump the fence and eat the turkeys and chickens that smugly strut (uncaged) on the dirt path directly in front of it constantly. That poor tiger has to watch all manner of delicious foul and goats and pigs and toddlers walk around in front of it--its gonna snap someday. Hear me now, believe me later.

Needless to say, the kids and I largely avoided the tiger and, instead, entertained ourselves with a more innocuous brand of feline: wittle bitty kitties! The petting zoo featured an attraction no kid can resist--a large pen of irresistible newborn kittens. Every kid there, without exception, begged to take one home (my kids included), and I wondered to myself how many kittens the business loses to theft each day. These kittens were very young--their eyes were open but they were still nursing. I know this because the mama cats were in the pen feeding them and kids were pulling them straight off their mothers and I wondered how these poor things ever get enough milk to survive. There is a sign encouraging patrons to gently handle the kitties, and kids were swarming them and grabbing them from the pen and each other with such uncivilized desperation that even I started feeling competitive when all these other kitten-grubbing little kids were bobbing for kitties and my kids were coming up for breath empty-handed. But my kids hung in there and eventually all three of them held some kittens. Jack was particularly careful and doting. Finn was panicked and disgusted by them--he wouldn't even pet one.

After we left the pumpkin farm, we were honored to attend a tree-planting at the kids' elementary school in Jeff's memory. Regan's Girl Scout Troop decided to plant a tree at their school as a living memorial to Jeff and yesterday was the big "planting." All the Girl Scouts were there; many parents stayed to help; other friends just came to support us and to honor Jeff. It was very touching. The girls were very dedicated to the task and the parents that helped made it both fun and educational. I was very impressed.

We kept things going today and went to mass and then to the cemetery. The kids took turns watering the sod on Jeff's grave. This afternoon we went to our nanny Lauren's house and carved pumpkins with her dad, sister, brother, cousin, and friend. We provided the pumpkins; Lauren's Dad provided the hospitality and one of the best meals I've ever eaten in my entire life. That only sounds like hyperbole, but if anything it is an understatement. This man can cook! It was a wonderful, wonderful evening. One of highlights of the night was that Jack and Regan met their new idol: Lauren's big brother, Brian. Brian is super cool and was a very patient playmate. (I think I owe him a beer). The kids said all the way home how much fun they had and what a great night it was. I'm sure that will be small consolation to Lauren's Dad when he realizes the magnitude of the disaster we left in his wake. (I think I owe him a 12-pack; and possibly some legal damages). Somehow the pumpkins seem like an insultingly inequitable exchange!

But, I'm happy to know that this weekend my kids played hard and had fun. The best part now is that they'll sleep well tonight and, if they're lucky, they'll have dreams of artful Jack-o-Lanterns and kitty-whisker kisses.

With love and appreciation to all the friends who treat us like family,
Kelly

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Mass and Memorials

Hi All. I just wanted to let you know that a Memorial Mass was held for Jeff today at 7:30 a.m. at the Pius X High School Chapel in Lincoln, Nebraska. I don't know if they planned it this way--but the mass was held almost three weeks to the minute since Jeff died. Father Jim Meysenburg, Superintendent of Pius, and Monsignor Liam Barr, Pastor of St. Joseph Catholic Church presided over the mass. Monsignor Barr is a long-time family friend of Jeff's and is one of the priests that married us and that also concelebrated at his funeral. But, his greatest contribution to Jeff's life was that he unwittingly played match-maker in Jeff's love affair with Irish tea when Monsignor Barr's mother taught Jeff how to make a perfect pot of Bewley's in the true Irish tradition!

Now, back to the business at hand: Over 60 of Jeff’s classmates, past teachers, and family attended the memorial and breakfast reception this morning. Fresh fruit, coffee cake and breads were served; lots of memories were shared; and I hear that stories from the blog were shared too. Thanks to everyone who planned and executed the event and an even bigger Thanks to everyone who attended to honor Jeff.

In other news, I am beginning to get a handle on the magnitude of the memorials people gave in response to Jeff's last wishes. I will be forwarding your generous donations to St. Jude the Apostle Parish, the Wilson PTSA, and the Notre Dame Club of Milwaukee next week. In the meantime, I am most astounded at the memorials donated to our family and designated for the benefit of our children--in all, nearly $4,000.

Before Jeff died, he said that he was "afraid someone might try to set up a scholarship fund for the kids" as a result of his death. This may strike you as odd given that most parents would HOPE someone would establish an educational fund for their children's benefit. But, not Jeff. He was strongly opinionated and felt that because he had to always work as a teenager and pay not only for college but for his own high school tuition and for all of his other personal expenses (gas, dates, entertainment, etc.) that our children should, likewise, pay their own way through college via summer jobs, work study opportunities, scholarships and student loans. Jeff's rationale was that anything you earn yourself, you will truly appreciate. Anything given to you for nothing will be taken for granted.

This is where our opinions diverged. I, too, have had a job since I was fourteen years old--more often than not, I had more than one job at a time. However, this was not imposed upon me by my parents as a means of fostering responsibility or maturity. It was not intended as an example for my younger siblings or as goodly use of talents to benefit my character and my community. For me, hard work was something else.

I was raised by a single mother who, throughout most of my childhood, worked as a waitress. I only dreamed that someone would throw me a bone so I wouldn't have to work so hard. I saw my mother work, and work, and work, and work with no reward other than bad knees and discounted meals from her employer. I saw my two brothers suffer through six years in the Marine Corps because it was the best way for them to get money for college. I was a smart and talented kid: I got good grades, I was a asset to my employers, I was a responsible and popular babysitter. But, I'm 35 years old and I'm still paying off student loans. I think this is the essence of where Jeff and I had different perspectives on hard-work and paying your own way: he saw it as a virtue and I saw it as an inescapable, sometimes painful, necessity.

In fact, one of the saddest realizations for me during Jeff's illness was that I was going to be a single mother and not because it meant I would have to work hard for the rest of my life, but because I knew that my kids would now have to work hard too--and not the virtuous character-building hard work that Jeff had envisioned for them, but rather the kind that makes you tired--the kind that makes you also work hard against bitterness and jealousy.

But, even Jeff, at the end of his life, began to understand my perspective. One of the greatest gifts of his illness was the empathy he developed. He said that although he achieved everything he had on his own, he felt that he did it at the expense of getting to know Michael and Michelle (his youngest siblings) better. He said that when he wasn't at school or a related activity, he was working and as a result, he feels like he lost out on a lot with Michael and Michelle.

And, so, what I'm getting at here through all this long-winded family history and disclosure is that I've decided to divide the $4,000 in family memorials among our four children to be used for their educations. I don't know if Jeff would approve of this decision, but Jeff was analytical and logical and objective, so here is my argument: If our children are able to earn even $8.00 per hour as high school students, and work approximately 15 hours per week while still engaged in school and activities, then $1,000 will amount to nearly two months of gross wages. This will give them some latitude in the employment they pursue (for half of one summer, anyway) and may even give them the opportunity to spend two months volunteering--which is an absolute condition precedent nowadays to getting scholarships and university acceptance letters. It will relieve their burdens ever so slightly, yet hopefully be something that will give them some breathing room if they ever feel overwhelmed by the piling-on of educational costs or the expense of "just one more thing" (like several application fees to various colleges). And, Jeff can be reassured, $1,000 per child is not enough to spare any one of them the necessity of hard work, summer jobs, scholarship applications, and student loans. And, in my opinion, it's not getting "something for nothing" that they, therefore, won't appreciate. Their father died. They will "earn" that money every time they give Finn a bath or fold a basket of laundry or rake the leaves because Jeff is not here to help me with those things.

So, I like to think Jeff would agree with my executive decision. If not, I hope he'll let me know . . .I'm still waiting for my "sign."

Love, Kelly

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

No News

I really have nothing new to report: I just thought I should post something as a strategy to maintain interest.

I went back to work this week--and no sooner did I arrive at the office than I was summoned to jury duty. God definitely has a sense of humor. So, I spent most of my first day back on the job at the courthouse with 40 other Milwaukee County citizens undergoing voir dire (a fancy lawyer word for "jury selection.") Fortunately, I was not selected for the five-day-long trial that will usurp the rest of the week. Whew!

Today, was much better. Work was good. After work was even better. Tonight the kids and I went with one of our nannies to watch her little sister's high school Varsity volleyball game. It was a lot of fun. The kids were very well-behaved (meaning nobody ran onto the court) and I got to visit with other adults. It was a relaxed, fun, all-around pleasant evening.

Finally, I have selected Jeff's (our) headstone (we have side-by-side plots and a joint headstone). It will take two to four months to deliver but it will be worth the wait. I think it may very well be the nicest headstone in the cemetery. The kids all helped choose it and approved the final decision. It will be nice to finally have a monument to landscape and decorate. Believe it or not, some of Jeff's "neighbors" have Halloween decorations on their graves. I don't know why, but it strikes me as ironic.

Speaking of Halloween, the kids are gearing up--Jack and Finn have their costumes already. Regan is still finalizing hers. We've put up some decorations and might try to carve pumpkins this weekend.

So, that's the Big News around here. And after two years like we've just had: no news is good news.

Love, Kelly

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Sunday Ritual: Take Two!

I've received a couple of phone calls today inquiring whether today's "ritual" was any better than last week's. I hope no one thought I was too disappointed or sensitive about last week's antics: quite the opposite. I was trying to illustrate just how quickly things return to "normal" and to make light of how sometimes, as parents, we have to just roll with the punches.

Nonetheless, this week's "ritual" was better. First, Finn woke up at 8:00 a.m. instead of 7:00 a.m. Suh-weet! Life always seems better after an extra hour of sleep. I fed him a banana to tide him over while Jack and Regan helped me make Monkey Bread. (It only has four ingredients and is so mindless that even I can manage it). So, we feasted at home on Monkey Bread and sausage. While we ate, I casually mentioned that, "Oh yeah, by the way, this is Dad's memory breakfast for this week, so what memories do you want to share of him?" Regan was only marginally annoyed that we weren't going to a "real" restaurant, but was quick to share her memory. Jack and Aubrey chimed in, too, and then Regan asked "what do you miss about Dad, Mom?"

I said that "what I miss most is not having him here to talk to." Regan said, "well, you'll always have us to talk to." Which was a sweet sentiment, but, understandably naive. The kids cannot substitute for Jeff--I cannot speak to them as friends or confidants. They cannot soothe the realization that from this point in my life, every tragedy that befalls me will find me alone and undefended. They cannot help me rationalize the resentment I feel when I consider that no man who was obligated to take care of me for the rest of my life ever stuck around to finish the job. No--I must save these conversations for the good and patient friends who have stayed on the phone with me past midnight and, perhaps, for any unwitting pedestrian who has the ill-fate of standing within earshot of me.

Of course, I am kidding. I have not had to turn to strangers for help or a listening ear thanks to all of you who so generously continue to support me and my kids. But this weekend has been particularly trying--and for no other reason than I'm tired. I'm absolutely physically exhausted. And I've realized that no matter how many sincere and well-meaning people say, "I will do anything you need, Kelly"--they simply cannot. They cannot be at my dinner table, half-way through a meal, when Finn has decided he is DONE and I am still trying to eat (usually while standing) and wipe whatever bare minimum of yogurt from his hair and face and hands will allow him to be picked up and attended to and still allow me to finish eating. They cannot rescue me when I'm getting slapped and kicked and cried-on and snotted-on (Finn still has a cold) in church and take a turn in the hallway telling Finn "no no" a thousand times as he terrorizes the drinking fountains and Holy Water fonts. They cannot, while I am taking MY turn in the hallway, take the burden off of a grieving 13 year old who now must enforce the "rules" ("be quiet, Jack; kneel up, Regan") for children who are--more often than not--orphaned at mass. And I know that having Jeff would not necessarily mitigate these scenarios--in fact, he had been unable to physically lift Finn for quite a while and had slowly abdicated his role as our household's primary parent throughout the summer. But, it was still nice to have someone who could share a knowing glance or who would at least try his hand at distraction or who would give my eyes and ears a moment's rest. Because when you have two parents in the house, one parent can at least assume the other parent is occupying the children if they are too quiet or nowhere to be seen. Now, I have no such satisfaction. Instead, anything and everything that happens, happens on my watch. There is no changing of the guards or leaving my post. It makes me tired.

But, before I submit to my pity party, I think you should know this: (1) I am a Big Baby because I am uncommonly privileged to have two world-class nannies who take-one-for-the-team five days a week. They--and the kids' schools/teachers--do most of my weekday parenting for me, so any sob-story you get from me is pure hyperbole; and (2) this weekend held many highlights that far surpass any sadness or frustration implied above. First, I--singlehandedly--put sod on Jeff's grave. It looks so much better. Jeff would be astounded to know I did it myself (sod is freakin' heavy!) and he would likely be full of criticism about the end result, but it looks better than it did, so I'm happy and proud that I actually accomplished something on my "to do" list (and, uh, speaking of my "to do" list: writing the thank you notes is slowly making its way up the list. Baby steps.). Also, the kids had a fun weekend with their friends and anytime they can play with friends and have a sense of freedom and "normalcy" it's a good weekend. I smiled outloud when I had all my kids and the Murphy boys in my van (on a quick outing to Dairy Queen and the park) when they started singing along with a CD Abe brought along. They all belted out "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey. I loved it. It couldn't have been more fitting, either . . .

As for the rest of the day: I talked to my sister; my Dad called to check on me; friends brought us food; they had donuts at church (!!!); I finished three loads of laundry; AND I even snuck in a nap while Finn was sleeping. So, all in all, it was a very good day.

I'll update again soon. Until then . . .

Kelly

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Eerie

"Jeff,

This is bound to be the dreariest, most sorrowful day of my life. My happiness, my spirit, my everything left when you did. Tears are spilling down my cheeks and all I can think about is how much I need you right now . . .

And so today, I begin waiting. Perhaps I will learn some patience. it's like you said, in so many words--'I'm sure there is some good to come of out of this.' . . . You are priceless to me, Jeff, and now that you are away from me, the memory of your presence is my most valuable possession and until you return to me, I will relive every moment I've ever shared with you--I will feel every touch, hear every word and read every letter all a thousand times because each thing I do will bring me one second closer to having you back with me. I feel so hollow, so lost and so far from the world. I will always love you--you are all I think about, you're all I see and feel and there's not enough words in the world to describe the pain of missing you."

I wrote these exact words in a letter to Jeff on September 26th, 1992--the day AFTER he left for Ireland to study abroad for a year. So, that means he left for Ireland on September 25th, 1992. It's eerie to think that 16 years later--to the day--he would depart again and that I could have written that same letter to him today as I did so many years ago.

On a side note, "eerie" is maybe a little too close for comfort to the Gaelic (Irish) word for Ireland: Eire.

Jeff and I wrote literally hundreds of letters to each other from the time we met on my Dad's birthday (June 9th) in 1989 until we were married on Jeff's birthday (May 21st) in 1994. Jeff put several of the "better" letters in a scrapbook and gave it to me for Christmas several years ago. I was going though it tonight and found the letter quoted above.

I was puzzled as to why Jeff chose September 25th to die. I sensed that he thought he would be dead by September 25th, but I did not understand the significance of that date. In the weeks preceding his death, he had had several visitors offer to visit shortly thereafter (September 25th, October 3rd, etc.) and each time he told them to come sooner--he was afraid the 25th would be too late. As September 25th approached it appeared he was wrong--he had not yet shown evidence of the "active stages of dying" and despite profound and difuse liver tumors he had shown no signs of jaundice or other complications of liver disease whatsoever. He was mentally sharp and was not in a coma. In fact, on the night of the 24th, the hospice nurse told me that his lungs were clear, his heartbeat was strong and that with young people, "their strong hearts can keep them going for a while." So, I was surprised the end came so soon--but not surprised it came on September 25th. Now it seems clear: that is Jeff's preferred day for special departures.

'til next time . . .
Kelly

Monday, October 6, 2008

Rituals and Remembering

Welcome back. Shortly after Jeff died (and maybe even before), the kids and I decided that we would create a new family ritual: every Sunday we would go to breakfast and tell our stories and memories of Daddy; we would go to mass, and then go visit him at the cemetery. This past Sunday was our first opportunity to implement our ritual. Let's just say it looked better on paper than it did in action.

First, Finn had been up since 7:00 a.m. and needed to be fed almost immediately (as usual). His little tummy is hungry when he wakes up and he is very impatient! So, Finn feasted on Eggo Waffles and, since he had already had breakfast, was likely going to be an unwilling participant in the second breakfast I was plotting for him. I waited until Jack and Regan were awake and I barely pacified them until 9:00 a.m. when I decided it was time to wake up Aubrey (she had been out late at a friend's house the night before). So, we got a late start and didn't leave the house until 9:30 a.m. My vision of all of us joyfully springing out of bed simultaneously, dressed and ready to go at 7:00 a.m. was beginning to seem a little ill-conceived.

Then I got another bad idea: I let the kids negotiate with me to determine the breakfast restaurant. So, due to the regulations of democracy, we ended up holding Jeff's first memorial breakfast at McDonald's. (Note to self: No more governing by consensus). I have nothing against McDonald's, by the way. In fact, I love the Bacon, Egg, and Cheese Biscuit meal, but I had envisioned four very well-mannered and well-dressed children enjoying a manicured buffet and a view of Lake Michigan.

Instead, this is what I got: at McDonald's, Jack and Regan fought with each other, Aubrey couldn't choke down her breakfast burrito because it was laced with salsa, and Finn had a temper tantrum because he wanted Jack's pancakes (note that two whole hours had elapsed since he had been fed. He has the appetite of a Hobbit). Although, to clarify--Finn didn't really want the pancakes. He just wanted to practice eating them with a Big Boy Fork. So, when he wasn't making a total mess of himself, he was screaming in frustration at the uncooperative fork. He labored for approximately 20 minutes under the mistaken belief that throwing his head back, twisting backwards in the highchair, and covering his face in snot and tears was the secret combination that would unlock the mysteries of the fork.

Old ladies, (who were clearly regulars and who clearly make Sundays special at McDonald's) were looking at me with either exasperation or pity--I'm not sure which. I'm pretty sure it was exasperation, but I'm going to pretend it was pity. So, as soon as was reasonably possible, I announced breakfast was over--Regan finished her pancakes and sausage in the car on the way to the cemetery.

At the cemetery, the kids were only slightly disturbed by Jeff's grave. His grave is still very raw and fresh--just a pile of dirt littered with clods and sticks. They said, "it looks like he could reach up out of it." And I have to admit, they are right. So, I am going to transplant some grass/sod from our yard onto the grave. Jeff would love that and the kids will enjoy visiting more. So, after making their morbid observation, they (with the exception of Aubrey), chased each other around the cemetery. Then we loaded up and headed off to mass.

Mass brought it's own fun and excitement: First, I don't think I've enjoyed an entire mass start-to-finish since 1995, so I shouldn't be surprised, but Finn was as boisterous and obnoxious as he could be. So, after I settled the kids into our regular pew, I ushered Finn into the hallway. While we were out there, we met another parent with his one-year old daughter--she was also too energetic for church. We were chatting and loitering near a statue of Jesus when Finn looked at the statue and said, "Da da." He tried to climb up to it (it was on a ledge and the statue itself was 3 or 4 feet tall) and he started waving to it and blowing it kisses and calling it "Da da." It was truly adorable and completely heartbreaking. The man I was visiting with said, "well, he must sure like his father if Jesus reminds him of him." I said, "his father died last week and he just misses him and looks for him everywhere he goes." The man looked like he was going to throw up and said, "Oh, I'm sorry." Then, he scooped up his daughter and took her over to the opposite side of the vestibule and didn't talk to us anymore.

Now, I'm aware that I create a certain awkwardness for everyone I encounter--anyone who knows of my situation and meets me must grapple with whether or not to say something; whether to acknowledge "It" and, if so, what to say, etc. but I had never had anyone literally run away scared. The good news is that Finn was undeterred. He continues to search for Jeff and was delighted tonight to find him in a picture in our home office. He picked up the picture and pointed to Jeff's face and said "Da da." I clapped for him and told him how smart he was to find Daddy in the picture. He carried the picture around for a while before trying to take it out of the frame--proclaiming "Da da" intermittently and applauding himself. Again, it was both adorable and unbearably sad.

But, I am comforted to know that God is "father of the fatherless" (Psalm 68:5) and will be my co-parent going forward. On a side note, I am less comforted to hear that God is "judge of the widows" (Psalm 68:5), because if you read the "Rules for Widows" (1 Timothy 5:3-16) in the First Letter to Timothy, it sounds like young widows are not held in particularly high esteem. So, I shall endeavor every day to deserve Jeff's station in Heaven.

Well, it's late and I'm tired, so I must sign off for now. Thanks for reading! Until next time, take care.

Kelly

Saturday, October 4, 2008

A Quick Update

Jeff's hometown newspaper, The Lincoln Journal Star, ran a short article about him and his blog today. You can access the article on-line via the following link:

http://www.journalstar.com/articles/2008/10/04/news/local/doc48e6b7642bf9d009654031.txt#blogcomments

In the meantime, I have learned that there will be a memorial mass for Jeff in Lincoln, Nebraska on Thursday, October 16th at 7:30 a.m. at the Pius X Chapel with a light breakfast to follow. One of Jeff's high school classmates asked me to pass this information along. Please RSVP to her at schrollfamily@gmail.com if you plan to attend so they can estimate a head count.

In other news, all is well on the home front. The kids are happy and thriving--I'm sure in no small part due to the fact we continue to be surrounded by loving and compassionate friends. I've been fortunate to have deep and meaningful conversations with several friends and family members--my fear of having no one to talk to seems laughable! It's been a very good weekend and I am so grateful that I've been able to eat and sleep and that I have not succumbed to sorrow or fear--both of which seem to have grown bored with me and have meandered off to annoy someone else. I'll gladly take the reprieve.

Please check back soon.

Love, Kelly

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Untitled

It seems melodramatic to say that I've survived one week without the love of my life--especially when other wives send their husbands to war with no promise of a return or even a phone call for months or years on end. Indeed, if at any point during Jeff's illness God had said to me, "Kelly, I will cure him. He will live forever in complete comfort and happiness, but in return, you have to promise to never see him or hear from him again" I would have quickly and without hesitation agreed to the bargain. The fact that Jeff is dead really doesn't change the terms all that much--I merely need to uphold my end of the deal. So, now I must wait for "forever" to come so that I can see him again.

The trouble is that forever can be a very long time. I used to never feel like I had enough time to do anything--I rushed from task to task and place to place under the constant pressure of too little time. Now, all I have is time. Now, there is nothing BUT time. For Jeff, "forever" was only 36 years, 4 months and 4 days. I think of all the times I prayed for a long healthy life and now I think, "be careful what you wish for--you just might get it." And of course, I want to live a long and healthy life--especially for my children--but I long to see Jeff's blue eyes again and to hear his voice and I worry that my memories of these things will either distort or diminish over time and that, eventually, I will only remember the Jeff that I created and not the one that was.

I know I will never forget Jeff. The kids will never forget him. And it's clear from the amazing turn-out at his visitation and funeral that others will remember him fondly and often. I know it sounds crazy, (I'm convinced that grief breeds insanity), but I would love a little reciprocation--just a little sign from Jeff that he remembers me too. I thought that death would bring more mystery and emotion. I thought that I would have a dream or hear a song or see a cardinal in the yard (Jeff loved watching them from our back porch) or some other glimmer of other-worldly communication unmistakeably intended for me. Instead, I am astounded by the nothingness of death. There are no signs. No sense of his presence. No shadows or flickers in the corner of my eye. There is, quite simply, nothing.

Even stranger, is that this does not upset me. Today, no one has cancer. Today, I am no one's wife. Today we are a party of five instead of a family of six. I have pondered these facts with an uncharacteristic ambivalence. I love Jeff and always will, but he is dead and as much as it pains me to say it, I will be fine without him. I have to be. And my kids have to be. So we are going back to school and back to work and will continue to live as the living do. Furthermore, I believe that if Heaven is all that we are told it is and someone in Heaven can only experience blissful moments, then the more we cry and lament and beat our chests in grief, the more we separate ourselves from Jeff because he cannot share in our agony. However, by living joyfully and by laughing and smiling we draw him nearer to us. So, I am choosing to grieve happily and to mourn consciously in joy and with the expectation that it is helpful to Jeff and, therefore, to all of us.

In the meantime, I am tethered to this world and the human emotions within it, so I still cry and feel sorry that Jeff had to suffer and die so soon and I make room for him and his memory in our "new" life without him. I have visited his grave twice each day since he was buried. He does not yet have a headstone (they take two or three months to deliver) and in the meantime, his grave is unmarked, so I bought a "shepherd's hook" (for hanging baskets in a garden) and placed it at the corner of his grave with a special wind chime hanging on it. Jeff loved wind chimes (which is not something he widely publicized), and would always shop for one as a souvenir when we went on vacation. Unfortunately, he never found one that had a sound/tone that he liked. So, I don't know if he'll like the sound of the one I gave him, but it is beautiful to look at--very eye-catching--and will at least make enough noise to herald the fact that he is buried beneath it.

Well, this is a long and rambling post, but now that I have no one to talk to at night, you will likely see more where this came from. Sad, but true.

Until next time, thanks for continuing to support us and pray for all of us. I am slowly making headway opening all the cards and memorials and have been overwhelmed by people's generosity and kindness. Our house is filled to bursting with flowers and food and it is such a comfort--not to mention a flattering reminder of what a wonderful father I chose for my children and that you all chose as your friend. May God Bless him and Keep him.

Kelly