The week or so leading up to Mother's Day was a struggle for Millie, and as a result, for me. I'm assuming that the holiday had something to do with it even though Millie expressed it was not the reason. She was quieter than usual during the day, and bedtime became her time to grieve.
For about a week, when I would turn out the lights and tuck them both in, Millie would get a sad look on her face, tell me she missed mommy and start to cry. I told her I missed mommy too, hugged her and cried with her. She would get upset that she wouldn't get to see mommy again on earth and that it would be a long time until she got to see her in heaven. One night she got angry because she realized that I'm older and I get to see mommy sooner. All I could really do was hold her and agree with what she was saying.
One night she got very upset. "When I get older, I won't even remember mommy." I didn't have anything to say. It was horrible. What do you say to that?
Millie asked when she could see her counselor again, so after things calmed down and I tucked the girls in for bed, I went downstairs and put in a call. Luckily, we were able to get an appointment a few days later. During those few days, Millie was doing much better.
I took Millie to her session and waited in the lobby. At the end of the session, I went in with Millie so her counselor could tell me what they talked about and offer a few suggestions we could try at home to try and keep working through things.
The counselor lead Millie a little in trying to get her to restate something in particular they had discussed about mommy. Then Millie said the words "she wants me to be happy." She smiled when she said it and that made me smile. But then the words actually sunk in for me. She does want Millie to be happy. And she wants Emma to be happy. And she wants me to be happy too.
For so many months I've been riding waves of grief, sometimes brutal and sometimes not so intense. But mostly through that time, I'm just riding it out. I can't remember the last time I thought about what Beccee wants for us. Or for me. Once I did think about it, I knew beyond any shadow of any doubt, she wants all three of us to be happy.
Those words have popped into my head several times a day since then. Now, I'm not saying those six words have changed everything, but I will say they have given me a different perspective on my own life lately.
I hope some of you hear that message too.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Saying Nothing
Ron here...
I guess I can stop opening these posts like that. Maybe next time.
With the exception of feeling like I'm going into the thirteenth month of winter, I'm feeling pretty good. Work is great, music projects are going along well and the girls are really doing well. We all had a bout with Bronchitis a few weeks ago that made life difficult for a while, but I really can't complain.
The girls and I took a trip to Lake Havasu Arizona a couple weeks ago to visit my mom and dad, who are doing the snow bird thing now. I'm happy for them. Thirteen months of winter in Wisconsin is too long. We all stayed at my aunt and uncle's house where they have a heated pool and a hot tub. The girls were in heaven. The sun was shining every day. I was in heaven. I learned something very important on this trip. My seven year old Emma is a bigger fan of In N Out than I am.
I still think of Beccee every single day. Probably closer to every hour. But the longer, deeper battles with grief are less frequent and less debilitating overall. There are still times though when it will render me pretty much useless. The girls still talk and ask about Beccee often. Those conversations are mostly filled with smiles and laughs. Mostly. It can still hit me very hard to hear phrases like "when mommy was alive" come out of mu little girls' mouths. It still strikes me as incredibly unfair, but I generally don't get as angry about it, and it doesn't last as long as it used to. I think these are good things, but regardless of my opinion, it is the way things are going.
Jenn and I are still dating.
I just went back and re-read that last sentence and decided to edit the rest of the paragraph. Here's my problem... I'm trying to be very cautious about our relationship, but not in a "keeping my options open" sort of way, or an "I'm not ready to be in a serious relationship" way.
But reading just those words, I can see how someone might interpret it that way. And talking to people who read this blog, I know that happens sometimes.
I am being cautious about our relationship. The point I want to make here though, is I'm cautious about what I SAY about our relationship. First and foremost, I'm cautious about my kids and her kids. I don't want "us" to be the source of hurt for any of them, so I have a pretty serious filter on what I will say to them, around them or around anyone who might ever talk to them, which includes anyone reading this. Hmmm... I haven't really said anything here, and I already feel like I've said too much. I'll leave it at that for now.
Ron
I guess I can stop opening these posts like that. Maybe next time.
With the exception of feeling like I'm going into the thirteenth month of winter, I'm feeling pretty good. Work is great, music projects are going along well and the girls are really doing well. We all had a bout with Bronchitis a few weeks ago that made life difficult for a while, but I really can't complain.
The girls and I took a trip to Lake Havasu Arizona a couple weeks ago to visit my mom and dad, who are doing the snow bird thing now. I'm happy for them. Thirteen months of winter in Wisconsin is too long. We all stayed at my aunt and uncle's house where they have a heated pool and a hot tub. The girls were in heaven. The sun was shining every day. I was in heaven. I learned something very important on this trip. My seven year old Emma is a bigger fan of In N Out than I am.
I still think of Beccee every single day. Probably closer to every hour. But the longer, deeper battles with grief are less frequent and less debilitating overall. There are still times though when it will render me pretty much useless. The girls still talk and ask about Beccee often. Those conversations are mostly filled with smiles and laughs. Mostly. It can still hit me very hard to hear phrases like "when mommy was alive" come out of mu little girls' mouths. It still strikes me as incredibly unfair, but I generally don't get as angry about it, and it doesn't last as long as it used to. I think these are good things, but regardless of my opinion, it is the way things are going.
Jenn and I are still dating.
I just went back and re-read that last sentence and decided to edit the rest of the paragraph. Here's my problem... I'm trying to be very cautious about our relationship, but not in a "keeping my options open" sort of way, or an "I'm not ready to be in a serious relationship" way.
But reading just those words, I can see how someone might interpret it that way. And talking to people who read this blog, I know that happens sometimes.
I am being cautious about our relationship. The point I want to make here though, is I'm cautious about what I SAY about our relationship. First and foremost, I'm cautious about my kids and her kids. I don't want "us" to be the source of hurt for any of them, so I have a pretty serious filter on what I will say to them, around them or around anyone who might ever talk to them, which includes anyone reading this. Hmmm... I haven't really said anything here, and I already feel like I've said too much. I'll leave it at that for now.
Ron
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
I Don't Feel Good
I'm writing this today sick and in bed. It generally takes a lot to knock me out of commission and spend any significant time in bed apart from sleeping at night. I won't bore you with whining about how crappy I feel or how I wish I could make it to band rehearsal tonight, but as I was climbing into bed after having some chicken soup for dinner (yes, how original), I thought the words "I don't feel good." Well actually, I said them out loud, which totally reminded me of a story.
A few years ago Millie had the flu. She had to be three or four at the time and spent most of the day in bed with a fever. Around early evening, she was feeling a little better and came downstairs to have some food. I don't remember what she ate, but that's not important anyway. After about 15 minutes, she wasn't feeling so well anymore and ran into the bathroom to vomit into the toilet. It was gross. I was holding Millie's hair back as she leaned over the toilet, and Beccee was holding a towel to wipe Millie's face. All of a sudden Millie starts saying "I don't feel good." Actually, it was closer to shouting. She kept repeating over and over "I don't feel good! I don't feel good!", but it seemed every time she said it she emphasized a different word. "I DON'T feel good! I don't feel GOOD!" She actually punched the toilet, she was getting so angry.
I don't say this to be mean, but Beccee and I thought it was the funniest thing we had ever seen. We were both cracking up and trying to hide our laughing from Millie, since she was feeling so bad and it's doubtful she would have appreciated the humor while in the moment. It got so bad, Beccee and I had to take turns leaving the room, regaining our composure and coming back in to comfort our little Millie.
The reason I decided to recall this story here is because it was a really good memory of Beccee and it made me smile and laugh without crying. At least at first without crying.
Ron
A few years ago Millie had the flu. She had to be three or four at the time and spent most of the day in bed with a fever. Around early evening, she was feeling a little better and came downstairs to have some food. I don't remember what she ate, but that's not important anyway. After about 15 minutes, she wasn't feeling so well anymore and ran into the bathroom to vomit into the toilet. It was gross. I was holding Millie's hair back as she leaned over the toilet, and Beccee was holding a towel to wipe Millie's face. All of a sudden Millie starts saying "I don't feel good." Actually, it was closer to shouting. She kept repeating over and over "I don't feel good! I don't feel good!", but it seemed every time she said it she emphasized a different word. "I DON'T feel good! I don't feel GOOD!" She actually punched the toilet, she was getting so angry.
I don't say this to be mean, but Beccee and I thought it was the funniest thing we had ever seen. We were both cracking up and trying to hide our laughing from Millie, since she was feeling so bad and it's doubtful she would have appreciated the humor while in the moment. It got so bad, Beccee and I had to take turns leaving the room, regaining our composure and coming back in to comfort our little Millie.
The reason I decided to recall this story here is because it was a really good memory of Beccee and it made me smile and laugh without crying. At least at first without crying.
Ron
Sunday, March 13, 2011
I'm sick. Blah!
Ron here...
So I got hit with something horrible last week. Maybe strep, but at this point it feels more like pnemonia or bronchitis. Fever, chills, aches, stuffed head and congested chest. Good times. Blah!
Unfortunately for me, the timing of this was not so great. I was scheduled to play and sing at church Saturday night and Sunday, and I also agreed (happily) to do a charity acoustic gig on Saturday night for the Y Strong Kids Foundation. Under healthy circumstances, it would probably be pushing it a little to do church and a gig, but being that I was this ill, it was definitely feeling like a challenge.
I don't say any of this to garner your sympathy though.
Saturday afternoon as I'm getting ready to take the girls over to grandma and grandpa's for a play date and sleepover so daddy can play music, I was starting to get very concerned about being physically able to play and sing. My voice was rough, my head stuffed and my chest beginning to feel constricted. I had the girls' stuff packed and the car was warming up. They had gotten into their boots and were getting their jackets on. As is pretty typical, we were running a little late, and I was getting frustrated (also pretty typical). I told them how we needed to get going so I could make it back home in time to rest because I was feeling crappy and wasn't sure how I would be able to sing over the next 24 hours and that I really wanted to lie down. Wah.
Then Millie looked at me and said "Daddy, just do it how Mommy did. She would sing the words, and then pause and breathe where there's no words."
I know she didn't mean to make me think what I did next, but for the rest of the weekend, all I could remember was that my wife sang with lung cancer. Sometimes with chemo running through her veins at the same time. And it wasn't like she mustered up the energy to pull it off as a one-time trick. She did it several times after she was diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer (which her doctor later said should be reclassifed as stage 4, but Beccee wouldn't let him do it). After her diagnosis, she sang at the Love for Life benefit in the park, the Eric Benet concert, a local community prayer event, the studio recording for the song Love for Life, live on the radio (in the morning!), and at Crosspoint Community Church a few days before her entire right lung was removed because the tumors had advanced too far to save even a single lobe.
And I'm gonna feel sorry for myself because I have to sing with the sniffles?
I decided to go with Millie's idea.
I paused and breathed.
So I got hit with something horrible last week. Maybe strep, but at this point it feels more like pnemonia or bronchitis. Fever, chills, aches, stuffed head and congested chest. Good times. Blah!
Unfortunately for me, the timing of this was not so great. I was scheduled to play and sing at church Saturday night and Sunday, and I also agreed (happily) to do a charity acoustic gig on Saturday night for the Y Strong Kids Foundation. Under healthy circumstances, it would probably be pushing it a little to do church and a gig, but being that I was this ill, it was definitely feeling like a challenge.
I don't say any of this to garner your sympathy though.
Saturday afternoon as I'm getting ready to take the girls over to grandma and grandpa's for a play date and sleepover so daddy can play music, I was starting to get very concerned about being physically able to play and sing. My voice was rough, my head stuffed and my chest beginning to feel constricted. I had the girls' stuff packed and the car was warming up. They had gotten into their boots and were getting their jackets on. As is pretty typical, we were running a little late, and I was getting frustrated (also pretty typical). I told them how we needed to get going so I could make it back home in time to rest because I was feeling crappy and wasn't sure how I would be able to sing over the next 24 hours and that I really wanted to lie down. Wah.
Then Millie looked at me and said "Daddy, just do it how Mommy did. She would sing the words, and then pause and breathe where there's no words."
I know she didn't mean to make me think what I did next, but for the rest of the weekend, all I could remember was that my wife sang with lung cancer. Sometimes with chemo running through her veins at the same time. And it wasn't like she mustered up the energy to pull it off as a one-time trick. She did it several times after she was diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer (which her doctor later said should be reclassifed as stage 4, but Beccee wouldn't let him do it). After her diagnosis, she sang at the Love for Life benefit in the park, the Eric Benet concert, a local community prayer event, the studio recording for the song Love for Life, live on the radio (in the morning!), and at Crosspoint Community Church a few days before her entire right lung was removed because the tumors had advanced too far to save even a single lobe.
And I'm gonna feel sorry for myself because I have to sing with the sniffles?
I decided to go with Millie's idea.
I paused and breathed.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The things I think when I'm given time to think
Ron here...
Okay, so I know I have not been writing regularly for quite some time now. Yes, working full-time while being a single father, who also plays in an acoustic duo and a rock band on weekends takes a lot of time, but truth be told, if I really wanted to write, I'd make time. I guess I really have not wanted to.
Well, at this particular moment, I want to. I'm out in California for a work/church conference. Between traveling and breaking off on my own, I seem to have had more time, or at least longer segments of time, to think. It has allowed me to think about where my life is at, compare where I was a year ago, two years ago, and to think about where it is going. There was also one speaker at the conference in particular that finished about five minutes ago that seems to have particularly energized me.
He talked about transforming your dream into your dream job. I love what I get to do at church, but if I'm honest, there are other things, bigger things I dream about other than handling technical things like video and computers, and being a part-time worship leader. Dreams like writing, recording and publishing my music. Dreams like finishing my deceased wife's novel. Dreams like taking her blog, that I added onto, and turning it into a book.
Beccee and I used to live in Los Angeles, which is about 50 miles from where this conference is taking place. I was fortunate enough to break away from our group yesterday and visit my brother's house. I'm planning on getting up there tonight too. Beccee and I lived in that same house for about 6 years, so going back to visit it is almost like having a real, living version of a photo album for that period in my life. For that period in our lives. It gets me thinking in a different way. The weather, the sunshine, the houses, the expensive cars, the way people do things, the way people talk, even the way the air smells is so attractive. Perhaps coming out in February after a pretty brutal winter has something to do with it.
I got a text yesterday from someone asking me if being out here made me homesick. My answer was "kind of, yes." Then I thought about how I had answered the question and it seemed strange that I could be homesick for LA. I was born and raised in Wisconsin, lived in Phoenix for a couple years, LA for 6 and back to Wisconsin for the last 6 years. I never thought of LA as "home", but the word "homesick" sure did seem appropriate. Now before anyone in my circle of friends and family starts to freak out, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Just thinking out loud, or on paper here.
So, a little bit about life back in the real world in Wisconsin. The girls are doing great. They are doing well at school and are involved in a few activities outside of school that they enjoy. We still talk about Beccee pretty often. Her name comes up pretty much every day. Sometimes it brings tears, but most of the time it doesn't. I stopped keeping track of whether or not I cry everyday about Beccee. If it's not daily, I'd say it's still close. The waves of grief have further spaces between them, but when they hit, they can still be as devastating as ever. It's fascinating how something as simple as seeing a picture, stumbling across and old video, an email, hearing a comment from the girls, finding some random object in the closet, just about anything, really, can set off a chain reaction that will bring me to the point of sobbing on the floor in an instant. Those moments still suck.
The other day Millie was having a rough day, missing mommy. She asked me to put on the video of Beccee singing at the Eric Benet concert. It really is a blessing how many audio recordings, videos and pictures we have of Beccee. So, I put the DVD in and it starts with Beccee's introduction of all 20 or so musicians on the stage at the time. As she was talking, Millie looked over at me and said "that doesn't sound like mommy's voice." My heart sank at the realization that her memory of Beccee is already to starting to fade. I have known all along that eventually their memories will fade and to be honest, that is one of the things about losing Beccee that angers me the most. I know that in a way it is a blessing and that it probably helps them deal with the pain and trauma of their mom dying, but it is frustrating and painful to watch.
Things are still going well with Jenn, the woman I've been dating since last July. It's interesting to see how my girls and her kids are reacting to us being together. In case you don't recall (I know it's been a while since I've written about this), Jenn lost her husband to cancer the day after Beccee died. Her kids lost their daddy the day after my girls lost their mommy. We have gotten to the point where we let our kids intermingle a couple times a month or so. They laugh and play and get along great. It's pretty cool to see.
That's about all I have for now. Thanks for still thinking of us and praying for us. God bless you all!
Okay, so I know I have not been writing regularly for quite some time now. Yes, working full-time while being a single father, who also plays in an acoustic duo and a rock band on weekends takes a lot of time, but truth be told, if I really wanted to write, I'd make time. I guess I really have not wanted to.
Well, at this particular moment, I want to. I'm out in California for a work/church conference. Between traveling and breaking off on my own, I seem to have had more time, or at least longer segments of time, to think. It has allowed me to think about where my life is at, compare where I was a year ago, two years ago, and to think about where it is going. There was also one speaker at the conference in particular that finished about five minutes ago that seems to have particularly energized me.
He talked about transforming your dream into your dream job. I love what I get to do at church, but if I'm honest, there are other things, bigger things I dream about other than handling technical things like video and computers, and being a part-time worship leader. Dreams like writing, recording and publishing my music. Dreams like finishing my deceased wife's novel. Dreams like taking her blog, that I added onto, and turning it into a book.
Beccee and I used to live in Los Angeles, which is about 50 miles from where this conference is taking place. I was fortunate enough to break away from our group yesterday and visit my brother's house. I'm planning on getting up there tonight too. Beccee and I lived in that same house for about 6 years, so going back to visit it is almost like having a real, living version of a photo album for that period in my life. For that period in our lives. It gets me thinking in a different way. The weather, the sunshine, the houses, the expensive cars, the way people do things, the way people talk, even the way the air smells is so attractive. Perhaps coming out in February after a pretty brutal winter has something to do with it.
I got a text yesterday from someone asking me if being out here made me homesick. My answer was "kind of, yes." Then I thought about how I had answered the question and it seemed strange that I could be homesick for LA. I was born and raised in Wisconsin, lived in Phoenix for a couple years, LA for 6 and back to Wisconsin for the last 6 years. I never thought of LA as "home", but the word "homesick" sure did seem appropriate. Now before anyone in my circle of friends and family starts to freak out, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Just thinking out loud, or on paper here.
So, a little bit about life back in the real world in Wisconsin. The girls are doing great. They are doing well at school and are involved in a few activities outside of school that they enjoy. We still talk about Beccee pretty often. Her name comes up pretty much every day. Sometimes it brings tears, but most of the time it doesn't. I stopped keeping track of whether or not I cry everyday about Beccee. If it's not daily, I'd say it's still close. The waves of grief have further spaces between them, but when they hit, they can still be as devastating as ever. It's fascinating how something as simple as seeing a picture, stumbling across and old video, an email, hearing a comment from the girls, finding some random object in the closet, just about anything, really, can set off a chain reaction that will bring me to the point of sobbing on the floor in an instant. Those moments still suck.
The other day Millie was having a rough day, missing mommy. She asked me to put on the video of Beccee singing at the Eric Benet concert. It really is a blessing how many audio recordings, videos and pictures we have of Beccee. So, I put the DVD in and it starts with Beccee's introduction of all 20 or so musicians on the stage at the time. As she was talking, Millie looked over at me and said "that doesn't sound like mommy's voice." My heart sank at the realization that her memory of Beccee is already to starting to fade. I have known all along that eventually their memories will fade and to be honest, that is one of the things about losing Beccee that angers me the most. I know that in a way it is a blessing and that it probably helps them deal with the pain and trauma of their mom dying, but it is frustrating and painful to watch.
Things are still going well with Jenn, the woman I've been dating since last July. It's interesting to see how my girls and her kids are reacting to us being together. In case you don't recall (I know it's been a while since I've written about this), Jenn lost her husband to cancer the day after Beccee died. Her kids lost their daddy the day after my girls lost their mommy. We have gotten to the point where we let our kids intermingle a couple times a month or so. They laugh and play and get along great. It's pretty cool to see.
That's about all I have for now. Thanks for still thinking of us and praying for us. God bless you all!
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