Tell It Like It Is…

Every event in our lives, good and bad, is an opportunity to LEARN. Be open to the message and use it to create your own better future…

I Wanna Talk About Mii….

My 4 year old LOVES her Wii, most particularly the game Wii Sport Resort. Most of you are probably familiar with the system, but for those who aren’t, with the Wii you have the ability to create your own characters that you then use to play your games.  Building your own characters allows you to save points/scores, etc.. The characters you create are appropriately (and cleverly) referred to as a “Mii”….

Today we were sitting around the house (it IS Sunday) and Ava was playing Wii in the other room. She came into the kitchen, where I was, and asked a question about her her dad, which I answered, then she ran out of the room. A minute or two later, she ran back in, asked another question, and with another satisfactory answer, ran out again. She came back a third time, asked yet another question, and it was then that it occurred to me that all of the questions were esthetic questions regarding her fathers looks/features.

Now, she was only 18 months when her dad was killed, so while she knows him in photos and has a general idea of his image, it’s understandable that she would be a little fuzzy on some of the details (“Mom, what color are my dad’s eyes?”). I decided to follow her back into the family room where I discovered why she had been asking all of the questions: she was making a “Mii”. So I sat down with her and helped her: it has a place for the Mii’s favorite color, so I let her know that his was green, helped her pick out just the right goatee (lol), etc.

The name for this Mii?

DAD

I have noticed recently that she has had a lot more questions and thoughts about her dad, and “Dada is in heaven” is no longer sufficient. She is a very bright child (reading since 2), so I always knew she would be ready with questions long before I would be ready to give her answers.

I think I’m entering into a new phase with her, and I guess I’m a little apprehensive. I’ve had the luxury – and I know that it absolutely is a luxury – of being able to postpone having to deal with my child’s loss of her father, which I realize has been of great benefit to me as I’ve been able to focus on myself, on my own healing, which I know many people do not have the liberty of doing.

I’m fearful, I guess, because I feel that I’m opening up a big ‘ole can of worms that I’m really not sure I know how to deal with. Or maybe I am just afraid of having to answer things that I don’t have the answer to, and I know once I open the door, there will be a continuous flow of traffic – in the form of questions and observations – that I will have to deal with somehow.

Or, I am just not so eager for my little angel to have to face the reality of what is, because what is is painful, and it’s our job to protect our children from all of the bad stuff…. Right?

Tell It Like It Is…

You are in control of your own destiny. So dont fall asleep at the wheel…..

Baby It’s COLD Outside

Christmas in Wisconsin is always a, uh, treat weather-wise.  After a “slow weather” day here yesterday, once again, mother nature has picked up where she left off two days ago, and it’s been very steadily snowing since earlier this afternoon.  Oddly enough, it started snowing just as I was preparing myself to go out and visit Ethan.

Why is that odd, you ask?  Well….

Ethan’s folks live in the Southern part of Wisconsin, which, unlike more northern towns like Green Bay, aren’t always bombarded as badly with the harsh conditions the state, generally speaking, is so famous for.  Which means there is slightly (if not much) more chance that there will be no snow on Christmas.  Of course, in the time I’ve been a member of this family, I’ve only witnessed such an occasion once: the year that our whole family came (Ethan, myself and both of the girls) for Ava’s first Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa’s.

Ethan couldn’t WAIT to introduce Ava to snow.  He was going to teach her how to build a snowman, how to sled, how to perfectly pack a great snowball.  She would be his very apt pupil and eventually his very well trained snowball fight sidekick.  Yes, at all of 16 months old.

Yet, when we arrived in his little hometown, much to his disappointment, there was nary a single flake of snow.

We watched.

We waited.

We noticed the temperatures rise and fall.

It rained.

Christmas came and went, and wasn’t “white” at all.  In spite of that, we enjoyed a wonderful day with the family, which included his 100 year old grandfather, who, sadly, left us about a year after Ethan.

As is tradition on his mother’s side of the family, the day after Christmas we headed north for their annual “Festivus”.

Yeah, you heard me.  I said “Festivus“.  Now, if you couldn’t figure it out previously, you must know now why I love these people….

This particular year brought the entire family, including Ethan’s cousins who had moved to towns near and far, all with offspring in tow and all together in once place.  Now that I think about it, perhaps our decision to make the trip that year was a bit of a hidden blessing in the fact that I do believe that was the last time that all of the cousins were together at Christmas.  Every Christmas since there has been a cousin or two who couldn’t make it for one reason or another, which I suppose is a common eventuality in large families.  But I digress…

“Up North” there was tons of snow, for sure.  In fact, so much snow that we almost didn’t make the trip, having to turn back around at the halfway point of our first attempt due to the weather conditions.  We headed out that next morning (round 2!) and made it there safely, though I was a nervous wreck all the way.  It was a bit of a whirlwind, since we got there later than expected, so we really didn’t get a chance to get out and play in the snow.  The next day we were back at his parents house, back to our “snow-less Christmas”.

Less than two months later he would be gone.

Consequently, I made an unplanned, very unwanted trip to his little tiny hometown in the middle of February.  It seemed that since we’d last visited Winter had finally made her entrance, and she was really working hard making up for the lost time.  We actually had to make our arrangements around whether or not we could manage to get flights in and family could travel safely into town, the weather was so bad.  On the day of his interment, it snowed an incredible amount of snow.  It was freezing, it was gray.  It snowed lots and lots of big fat “hey check me out, I’m a big ‘ole snowflake!” snow.  The scene, which I’ve played a million times over in my head, always comes across to me visually as rather Dickensian: the cemetery, with it’s avenue of leaf-less trees covered in snow, somber and bitterly cold, blanketed in white.  Ethan had wanted snow so terribly that Christmas for us.  Well, he got his snow.  A little late, but he got it.

The Christmas following Ethan’s death, I returned to this tiny town to spend the holidays with his parents with only Ava in tow.

There was white powdery snow into the horizon.  Of course!  Only now, it was I alone who took Ava out so she could make footprints in the snow and make a snowball.  It was Grandpa who pulled her down the drive for her first ride on a sled.  It was terribly sad.  That Christmas was incredibly difficult for all of us, our first without him.  I think it was good for us, his parents and I, to have one another and I’m very glad that we did.  And I’m even more glad to be able to say that particular Christmas is far behind us…

Today was our second Christmas here at his parents home since he’s been gone.  And today had a much better feeling than our Christmas of two years ago.  This afternoon as I planned to pay a visit to him it began to snow.  A nice, steady snowfall.  I headed out on the all too familiar, though very short, journey to the cemetery on empty streets as everyone sat warm in their homes with their families.  I turned into the cemetery and was overwhelmed by a feeling of familiarity.  Not the normal feeling you get when you’ve been to the same place so many times, but the feeling of having experienced the same scene.  It poured over me as I drove through the avenue of leaf-less trees, covered in snow….

I sat for some time beside him, all the while getting pelted in the face by freezing wet snow, which seemed to be coming much faster now.  Like usual, I spent some time reflecting, however this time, for the first time, I didn’t spend the duration talking to him and crying.  Instead, I very quietly dug out a big heart in the snow.  Made it nice and big and… empty.

But I know it won’t stay that way.  You see, by tomorrow, it will probably be almost completely filled with fresh snow.  And that is a good thing.  I’ve finally come to realize, after nearly 3 years, that empty hearts should not remain forever empty.  They should be exposed to the world and the heavens to be filled.  I guess that is the difference between this Christmas and Christmas 2007.  Then I would never have believed that my empty heart could ever be filled – with anything – ever again.  Now I truly believe that it is nature’s way to ensure that it is full eventually, should one have the faith and courage to allow it to be exposed to the world and the heavens….

It’s been snowing for hours now, in fact, it hasn’t stopped since it started this afternoon.  I can’t help but think it has just a little something to do with Ethan.  In just a little while I will officially have survived my 3rd Christmas since beginning this journey.  How the time has flown.  The house, for now, is quiet.  I’m the only one still awake, listening to the clock ticking away (quite loudly, I might add), sipping what’s left of my glass of “Christmas” wine.  All things considered, I can honestly say today was truly a good day.

To my Ethan, Merry Christmas.  I hope that you are proud of the work I’ve done in these past few years in my effort to heal.  No matter how I may go about filling my empty heart, know that you are with me all the while.

To all of you who walk this long, often solitary road, Merry Christmas to you and yours, and may you find peace and comfort tonight.

I’m Dreaming Of A White Christmas

Well, I’m not exactly dreaming of one, I’m in the midst of one, quite frankly…

The weather outside is frightful....

We arrived yesterday to chilly temperatures and snow followed by freezing rain.  Ava was so excited as our plane made it’s approach into the airport in Madison, WI, “Look Mommy!  Look at all the snow!”

Indeed, there was snow as far as the eye can see.  I get so taken by the tree branches which are so delicately, so perfectly swathed in ice, it looks painted on.  3 foot spear shaped skull crushing icicles dangling from the eves… yeeeaaah…  No, I’m not even kidding.  Now, I’ve been assured they’re harmless, but I give them a wide berth… just in case….

Spending the holidays with my in-laws is always fun and exciting, if not just a tad bitter-sweet.  They are beautiful people, filled with love, warmth and humor (the apple didn’t fall far from the tree), and so very excited to see their granddaughter.  Ava having the opportunity to spend the Christmas holiday with them is a gift to us all, myself included.  I am filled with happiness to know that Ava is surrounded by such love.  They really know how to immerse themselves in the joys of the holiday, and I’m so glad that Ava will have these experiences which will, no doubt, turn into wonderful memories for her.

On the other hand, revisiting my late husband’s childhood home does bring about some sadness for me.  When Ava and I visit, “our” room is the room that was Ethan’s childhood bedroom.  This is the same room that I’ve stayed in since the first time  I was invited to the family home – first it was just Ethan and I, then the three of us: Ethan, Ava (in a crib) and myself, with my older daughter getting her “very own” room next door.  Now it’s just Ava and me, I in the double bed, and Ava in her very own twin bed on the other side of the room.  Last night before getting into bed, I sat for some time just taking in the energy of the room, looking over the few photos of him as a child that hang in the room, as well as our wedding portrait, which has been moved from the family room to this room.  Now, I’m not entirely sure why it was moved in there, but I suspect one of two things: because I stay in that room, thus, perhaps it was assumed that I might like it in there, or it simply needed to go somewhere other than where it was because it was too painful for them to look at everyday.  I think most likely, perhaps, the latter gave way to the former.  Honestly, now I don’t mind so much that the picture is in there, but I will admit the first time I saw it in there, I was a little taken aback.  I will also admit that I was a little sad that the picture had lost it’s place in the gathering spot of the home, to be moved to this seldom-used bedroom.  Having said that, I do understand the reasoning, I guess I just… I don’t know… wish it weren’t so….

Anyway, on this, the eve of our third Christmas without Ethan, as I sit in the kitchen listening to Ava and grandpa playing piano (one of their very favorite activities to do together) in the living room, as we all do our best to make this Christmas better than the last, I am reminded of how far we’ve come – how far I’ve come – in these three years.  The hard, itchy scab of healing is finally beginning to reveal it’s gifts hidden beneath.  The ability to embrace, no, ENJOY the beauty of the season and the love and acceptance extended to both my child and myself by this family is truly one of the greatest gifts of all.

Another Birthday….

Ethan

Today is the day that marks what would have been your 33rd birthday.  For the third year I am left to celebrate what was your life, pondering all that was, that could have been, that will never be.  I know these activities are futile, however, sometimes we can not anymore control the ways of the heart than we can the rising and setting of the sun.  So here I am.  Here we are…

This year Ava has many more questions than in previous years.  She’s gotten so big, and she is so unbelievably bright.  I have unfortunately become the unwitting teacher of all kinds of lessons that little babies should not have to learn.

This year, as we did last, we went to the “party store” and picked out 12 balloons – 4 green “happy birthday”, 5 plain white and 3 blue foil hearts – which we released from the back deck before sitting down to a scrumptious lunch of McDonald’s chicken nuggets and “apple dippers”.   Ava was elected MC, so with a “Happy Birthday, Dada” and a quick NASA-esque countdown, she and I let go of our bunch-o-balloons and watched them sail off into the distance, toward what Ava believes is your “apartment in heaven”.

I just nod and say “yes” regarding such things.  There is plenty of time for the cold, hard truth…

Anyway.  Happy Birthday.  Know that today, everyday, you are missed beyond words.  That our love for you runs as deep today as it did the day you left us, and my memory of you is the most precious of all my possessions.

“We loved with a love that was more than love.” – Edgar Allan Poe.

There Is No Other Pill To Take, So Swallow The One That Made You Ill…

As of Tuesday, December 8, 2009, the person who is responsible for taking Ethan’s life, greggory morris mcmillion, is a free man.

He served 26 months of a 6 year sentence.  A 6 year sentence that was supposed to have a 60% minimum time requirement.  So, essentially, he should not have been eligible for parole for another 2 years.

So, I’d like to give a big “thank you”, a huge “shout out” if you will, to the California legislature, and it’s revered leader, Governor Schwarzenegger.  To determine who gets gets a cot and who gets to walk, we prioritize certain crimes like, say, being an illegal immigrant and getting caught with a joint in your pocket. Instead of deporting them, we house them, at great expense to tax payers, in our prisons already bursting at the seams.   Oh, and there’s the  handing down of long sentences to non violent, non homicidal drug based offenders, who sell their drugs to people who WANT to buy them.  You know, willing parties to the activity.  Instead, they choose to deal with overcrowding by turning loose convicts who are convicted of crimes like, you know, killing people who were not willing participants in their own deaths.  Innocent victims….

mr. mcmillion is now home, comfortable and safe with his family in Fresno.  I’m sure in the very home he was trying to make his way back to that fateful night in February 2007 when he chose to make a u-turn on the freeway and proceed to rip Ethan away from this world and those of us who loved him dearly.

I’m sure mr. mcmillion’s mother is THRILLED to have her son home for the holidays.  Out of the “joint”, all in one, safe, whole piece.  What a phenomenal gift, to be sure!  We, on the other hand, will never know the feeling.  Going forward, we will only know the emptiness left on Christmas.  Same as every Christmas for the past 2 years, same as the Christmas looming before us.  Sure, things do get better.  You can watch your 4 year old open presents without crying.  You might even sing a Christmas song without nausea.  But you can NEVER escape the emptiness….

If anyone is wondering (if you have to at this point in this post) – I have absolutely NO forgiveness for mr. mcmillion and I can say with confidence, I NEVER will.  I have never stopped being angry with him.  The mere mention of his name makes my hair stand on end.  I wish I were a better person, but I can only be me.

But I DO have something to say to him:

Fuck you, greggory morris mcmillion.  Fuck.  You.

Sarah McLachlan – Fear (live) HQ

…He Guided Me To Tennessee

…and then dropped me off and said “later”.  I think I heard chuckling as he sauntered away…

I haven’t posted in what feels like ages, but I’ve been so wrapped up in the move that I have hardly been able to think about anything else.  I SWEAR if I ever do this again, I am selling everything and showing up to my new destination with my suitcase and a couple of kids.

If they’re lucky (and I don’t mean the suitcases).

Okay, that was a joke, I love my children.  But if someone called CPS on me, it would just fit right in to an already ridiculous week and a half.  Sigh…

Well, I really just popped in to clear out the cobwebs and chase away the crickets.  Eventually I’ll get my belongings (the ones that were guaranteed to arrive today but will be arriving – supposedly – on Sunday, though I won’t be holding my breath) and can move from the hotel we’re currently staying in to our new home.  That might be nice.

A life in extended flux.  It’s not for the squeamish.

Jennifer Hudson Super Bowl National Anthem

 

J Hud Killllls it...

I was so moved by her rendition of the National Anthem, that I had to post about it.  But not on this blog.  On my other blog.

 

I’ll post a better quality copy when one is posted, but I culled from the best Youtube had to offer within 20 minutes of the performance.  If you missed it, you should definitely pop over and take a listen…