The Timeline of Grief

 I wrote the post below on March 27th, AJ's birthday. Actually I wrote in my journal. But it was one of those entries that I thought about sharing on here. And then I just didn't. But I went back and reread it again recently. And once again, I considered if this was one of those entries I should share. And now it's after 11pm on a Tuesday night and I just got off a phone call with some amazing friends.

And during our conversation, we talked about grief. We talked about the importance of grief. The importance of recognizing and owning your own grief. We talked about how grief has no timeline and no rules but your own. And we talked about how our society's view of grief is just generally f-ed up. And once again, my thoughts were back to this journal entry.

And so I'm going to share it with you now. Because maybe it's something that you need to hear too. Maybe it's something you need to work through some of your own feelings. And if not, writing it down was something that I needed. 

March 27, 2022

Generally when/if I don't journal for a while, it means life is good - no big events, no big struggles, no big emotions. And that's been the case. Things have been good. Really good. 

Brandon and I enjoyed a trip to Las Vegas over the New Year and then another trip to Florida in February with Jacob. 

I was happy. I was good. So much so in fact that I had a therapy appointment in January and after discussing my general happiness with my current life, my therapist asked me "Have you thought about how you're going to prepare for February this year?" 

I kid you not, I had to pause and think - what happens in February?

February. This month that I had come to hate, to loath, to dread with every fiber of my being over the past four years. And yet this year, it had basically skipped my mind. What?! I hadn't even been thinking about February, that's how good of a place I was in. 

And you know what, I was feeling really good about that. I was feeling proud of myself. Over the past year I have put in a lot of hard work on myself. I spent some time examining my relationship with AJ, the end of that relationship and his death. I had some hard but necessary conversations with AJ's family. I had put in this extremely hard work and here was my reward. I didn't have to fear the dread of February. It was amazing! 

Until it wasn't. 

Until I started feeling... guilty? Maybe? People would tell me they were thinking of me, knowing that February was a tough month for me. But I'd shrug and say, "I'm doing good actually!" It made me start wondering what kind of person did this make me? Is it okay for the grief to feel so absent in just four years? Was I a bad person for "moving on" that quickly? 

I started thinking back to a conversation I had with my mom. It was this conversation that really had me examining myself. She asked me, "Do you think you deserve to be happy?"

When she asked me this question, I immediately thought NO. Why should I get to be happy when the life that I thought I was going to have was taken from me? Why should I get to be happy when AJ is gone? That didn't seem fair. But really, I wasn't being fair to myself. 

I finally started to accept that. It was that realization that finally made me move to make things official with Brandon. I deserved to be happy. I wanted to be happen. And then I was! 

But now, I find myself questioning it all again. Not necessarily whether or not I deserve to be happy. But maybe if I deserve to be happy right now. 

I started to think that the absence of grief meant that I was losing that last connection to AJ. Like he was starting to disappear. And I'll admit, that scared me. How is it possible to keep someone you've lost close if you aren't grieving for them?

Today's is AJ's birthday. What should have been his 35th birthday. And honestly, I wasn't expecting to feel much emotion, I wasn't expecting to have any real sadness or grief because of the day. I thought I was losing that. 

Jacob and I spent the weekend in Iowa with AJ's family, eating his favorite foods and just enjoying our time together. We had such a fun time and I never get tired of watching Jacob play with his cousins. And I'm so grateful to still feel a part of this family; to be loved by them. 

When I woke up this morning and started getting ready for church, there was something... shadowing me, lurking close by. It felt foreign. Strange. I couldn't put my finger on what it was or why I was feeling it. 

And then I was reviewing my Facebook memories from this day. Two years ago on AJ's birthday, I posted a picture from a page in a book my mom had shared with me. I'll be honest, when she first shared this message with me, I didn't connect to it. I recognized it was a good message regarding grief, but it didn't really hit home for me. 

But when I read it this morning, it was like the lightbulb turned on in my head. 

Yes. This is what I had been doing. Clinging to my grief so I wouldn't lose my love of AJ. This is why I was keeping myself from being happen. In a way, clinging to the grief was easier. It was what I knew, what I expected. Letting it go meant navigating a new path forward. And what if the love I have for AJ doesn't stretch that far? 

It was also reading this passage today that made me realize it was grief that I was feeling today. Grief over AJ and the fact he had missed another birthday. Grief that AJ is gone and missing out on so much. Grief over the relationship Jacob and his dad will never have. Grief of missing the person AJ was before the mental health problems and addiction. Grief over this fear that I was forgetting who AJ was. 

And yet, at the exact same time, wrapped up in all that grief, was just a bit of relief as well. Relief that I was able to feel this grief so intensely again. Relief that my connection to AJ is still there. Relief that my love of AJ is still there. 

I hate that he is gone. I hate what was taken from him, from Jacob, from me. I hate that it's easier to remember the person AJ was towards the end of his life instead of the person I fell in love with and who he really was - this goofy, loving, kind, talented, caring, smiling, amazing man. 

And at the same time, I'm back to wondering how to live with this tether to my grief over AJ and being happy in my life, with my life now. Will it always be a struggle? Will it get easier in time?

I don't have the answers right now. But that's okay. 

The Month of February

 February is here. Never in my life, before 2018, did I hate a month. But I hate February. 

Stepping into this month, flipping the calendar over, starting the new month is something I dread. There is a physical, emotional and mental shift that takes place in me. And it's not some small change, it feels very large and heavy and black. Suddenly I'm carrying around this 50 pound weight of grief and it's like I've been switched on to an ultra-sensitive mode. Everything seems to be a trigger. 

I can't concentrate, I don't want to be around people, I can't focus on my work, I'm short with Jacob, I can't fall asleep at night and I want to sleep the day away. It feels like there's an iron ball in my chest, making it hard to take a deep breath. I feel like I'm perpetually hunched over with the weight of grief on my shoulders. And my mind is constantly running through thoughts while at the same time, being stuck on a static channel. I can feel the tears, right behind my eyes. 

This February will be three year since AJ left us. 

--- 

I wrote that top portion at the beginning of the month. I knew what was coming. I knew February 23 would arrive, whether I wanted it to or not. I spent all of February dreading that day.

And then it was here. After much debating about what to do for the day, I finally decided on some self-care. About mid-morning I found myself thinking "you know, maybe this day isn't so bad. Maybe I put too much weight on this day. Why should I let it have this power over me? Why don't I just change my mindset?" I could hear my therapist cheering me on in my head. :) 

And for most of the day, I was able to keep that mindset. I really started to think that maybe this day didn't have to be so bad. And if this day didn't have to be so bad, that meant the whole month of February doesn't need to be that bad. 

Until about 4pm. And it was like suddenly, I hit a wall of grief. I can't remember exactly what time it was three years ago, but I know it was late afternoon when I was told at my office there were some sheriff deputies waiting to talk to me. I know it was late afternoon when I was told that AJ had taken his own life. 

I was done with the day. I wanted to crawl into bed and let the rest of this awful day pass me by. And I am so grateful to my parents who one, not only made this possible by taking over Jacob duty but two, allowed me to do what I needed in this moment. 

I'm going to be real honest here and say that the month of February has been really shitty as a whole. I spent the month struggling. I was sad, I was depressed, I was angry. I struggled through what my therapist pointed out to me was probably a depressive episode. I struggled with the fact that AJ killed himself. I felt overwhelmed by stress at work because of the combination of the shear number of projects I had going and the fact that it took every ounce of energy I had to concentrate enough to do those projects. I ended up at urgent care one day because of a rash on my arm just to be told that I had shingles. And I had to make some hard personal decisions. 

It's been shit. I spent most of the month off social media because I already had so much anger and sadness inside of me that I couldn't handle to know what else was going on in the world. I couldn't handle the nonsense and ignorance. I had no energy to argue with people on Facebook about politics - me! (haha) 

Slowly I've started to reenter the world of social media. And that anger is only burning brighter. Maybe it's because I'm grieving and mourning the injustice of losing someone I love in such a horrific way that I feel so angry at all the other injustices our world is facing. I feel so angry that people seem incapable of choosing love over anything else. I feel so angry at the shear lack of empathy and care. I feel so angry at the ignorance and hate. I feel so angry at the stupid political and pointless posts from our elected leaders. I feel so angry that we have to fight so hard for what should be basic human rights. I feel so angry that the world is such a broken place. I feel so angry that we have the capabilities and power to make things better, but for whatever reasons, we aren't doing it. I just feel so angry at it all. 

And I feel torn about how to find a place in-between that keeps me angry enough to want to continue to fight for what I believe and to not let the anger drown me. 

I do know I need to spend some more time with God. I need to make the time sit in His presence and let the quiet in. Fortunately, Lent is a good time to start doing this. 

I realize this post took a completely direction from when it started. But this is where my thoughts have been lately. These are the things I'm struggling with. This is where my heart is. 

Love Is

 Over the past year or so, I've thought about this blog post a lot. What I wanted to say and who I wanted to write it to - you or Austin directly. But the last few months have thrown everything else out the window. Until today. 

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. Last year, I wrote a blog post about the day and considering just sharing that again today. But then as I was looking through my Memories on Facebook, I saw this post from my Mom. 

I clicked the link to listen to the song. And immediately fell apart. 

Music is a powerful tool. 

Which reminded me of why I'm now writing this post. 

After Austin passed, his high school graduating class decided they wanted to collect money to commission a choral piece of music, written and composed in Austin's memory. (If you don't know, Austin was a choir director and a damn fine one at that.) And that's exactly what they did.

They reached out to composer Connor Koppin, who is also a Wartburg grad. And in turn, Connor reached out to Brian Newhouse, a poet he's worked with often on different pieces. 

Here's where I want to tell you that not only was this a perfect and amazing way to remember and honor Austin, but the process of the entire thing was very much needed for us as Austin's family. It was cathartic in many ways. And for that, I am so grateful. 

Brian reached out to us as family and asked if we would mind having a conversation about Austin and why this piece was being commissioned in his memory. It was during that conversation, that some real healing started to take place among us. For me, at least, it also felt like this piece was being created for a larger reason. During that call, Brian told us a bit about his personal life and it was like an immediate connection - Brian would have the right words for this song. 

A few weeks later, we got a copy of the music, along with a digital recording of the music and parts, but no voices singing along. Even as someone who can read music, I had a hard time putting the music and words together. But the more I listened to the music, the more I read the words, and the more I sang along, the more I fell in love. 

STOP here if you aren't interested in my interpretation of the music or if you want to listen to the song yourself first. Skip to the video at the end of this post.

 

While I surrounded myself in the music and lyrics, I couldn't help but think how beautiful the music and composition sound. But I also recognized that it an extremely hard piece of music. It was not a song that most choirs would be able to pick up and have ready within a few rehearsals. But I liked this aspect. I thought 'this is totally Austin'. First, he would have enjoyed the complexity of the music, the challenge for his choirs. And second, his life was not easy; it was hard and complicated. And you can feel that in the music. 

To me, this song feels like a letter to Austin. We're telling him all these things - how we carry his name and love fills our hearts. And as the music changes, it's like we're yelling these things at Austin because he's no longer listening to us. Then the line "so that one day you may sing" is so quiet and peaceful - Austin finally listened. And he was finally free. And we can praise God by singing holy, holy, holy because he is free from pain and sorrow. He is singing again in heaven. 

Here are the lyrics: 

A river carries your name through every bend of my heart.
May this love named for you, return to you.
Swarming your shadows to the depths of the sea. 
A river carries your name.
A new sun rose on the day of your birth.
It floods each acre in the fields of my heart.
Let this love bind your shadows.
Let this love bind your shadows, send them reeling into silence. 
So that one day, you may sing:
Holy, this breath is holy.
This living holy.
This love, holy, holy, holy. 

And here is the premiere performance of "Love Is" by the Tipton Chamber Choir from March 2020, with an introduction by Brianne Magill.

I apologize for the quality of video; I was holding my cell phone and Jacob may have been whispering to me during some parts. :) 

If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, you are not alone. Please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 800-273-8255.  

March 27, 2020

I wasn't going to post anything today. I haven't felt much like sharing. Today was hard. Today I felt distracted, unfocused. I wasn't present or on top of my game by any means. I was probably pretty close to the bottom of my game. I struggled. All day. Many times I felt on the verge of tears. 

Today was Austin's birthday. It's hard to believe this is the third birthday we've had since he's been gone. 

I recently saved an article on Facebook that I saw pop up on my newsfeed. Full disclosure that I have not read it yet. But the title was "That Discomfort You're Feeling is Grief". And it was like something clicked in my mind. Yes, that is what I've been feeling these past few weeks. There is much to grieve about our current situation. Our lives have been uprooted, they've changed so quickly with so little time to prepare. We must adapt quickly to this new life, this new normal. And so of course, we grieve how life was. We grieve the lost of normalcy. We grieve what has been taken from us. 

And so I think that all of that grief only intensified my grief for Austin today. Because in many ways, I think the grief of COVID parallels the grief I've experienced from the loss of Austin. 

He was gone too quickly. It was so abrupt and we were not prepared. All normalcy was suddenly gone and we were left to figure out how to adapt in this life with Austin gone. And two years on, I still struggle. I still grieve what was taken from us, I still grieve that life will never been the same without Austin. I grieve that Jacob has to adapt to this world without his dad. 

It's been a rough week all around. We continue to watch this pandemic grow. We watch as some of our leaders are working hard to do what they can in the situation and we watch as some of our leaders continue to fail us. We watch as we see how this pandemic has thrown into view much of what is not working in our current system and we struggle to agree on ways to address the growing needs. 

In Minnesota, we received a shelter-in-place order for two weeks and extended closure of many businesses, including the Y. So we struggle with what this means, how we will make this work, we struggle with the enormous amount of questions that arise and so few answers. 

At the Y, we struggled this week to quickly prepare ourselves to work remotely from home. This meant upgrading and adding new technology that many are not familiar with and must learn on such a short timeframe. We struggled with how the organization will look after being closed for nearly two months. We struggled as we try to make sure we're staying as connected to our members as we can be. We struggled. Or at least, I struggled. 

And damnit, as I write this, I find myself needing to find some good in all this. Is that what happens when you have two pastors currently living the the house? In the midst of all the struggle, I can see how people are coming together, how people are supporting one another, how people are connecting with one another. We've always had this technology to keep us all connected but it's not until it's our final option that we seem to finally be using it. I've had video happy hours over the past week with friends that I don't connect with nearly enough. I've been able to connect with church members with live Facebook videos and groups to keep us connected. I've felt connected to different communities as we come together to help those in need. 

So yes, the grief is strong. But there is still much to be grateful for. There is still good to be found. But I'm also going to give myself some grace and know that it's okay to feel that grief. It's okay to let that grief consume you, but only for a little bit. 

My mom read this devotional and made me a copy a few weeks ago. And I think that's how I'm going to end this post. Today I am grieving. Today I am sad. Today I am missing someone I love. Today my coin is grief-up. 

February is my least favorite month...

February sucks. I've never really had a least favorite month, but I think February is rising to that spot. 

Two years ago, in February, Austin took his life. That day will forever be one of the worst days of my life. It changed everything. It altered our future. 

Leading up to the start of February, I could feel this thing lurking behind me, something big, dark, heavy. It would move closer every day. I could feel a physical, mental and emotional shift happening to me. 

I can only assume this is grief. 

And this grief feels like it's literally clinging to my back, weighing me down. I can feel the extra weight, exhausting my already drained body. It sits in my brain like a heavy fog, making my mind think a mile a minute of all the 'what ifs' while at the same time, think nothing at all. It's wrapped around my heart, constraining it, leaving me feeling on edge and on the verge of a hundred different emotions at any one minute. 

Add in the fact that February is generally cold, dark and cloudy, well, it's not a good combination. Add in any number of the other worldly events/challenges/disasters/bad news, and it's almost unbearable. 

It's only February 4, and it feels like this month has been dragging on forever. 

So, I could do what sounds easiest, comes easiest. I could write my blog. Pour out my feelings of grief. Sit and wallow in my grief, stay lazy and not doing anything, ignore my real world responsibilities, let things slide for the month. And oh boy, believe me. That is what I would love to do. 

But I shouldn't. I can't. It's not fair to Jacob and it doesn't help me. So what am I going to do? 

I'm going to plan some mini-adventures for Jacob and I. A hotel stay or maybe a visit to Aunt Meg. Get us out of the house on the weekends. Visit new places. Or old places. Spend more one-on-one time with Jacob, playing together or reading together. (Not just allowing screen time while I nap...)

I need to take some breaks from social media. Or at least spend less time on social media, fretting over the state of our nation. I need to start using my Y membership. I need to start using my lunch breaks to walk. Bring Jacob to the Child Watch or Pepsi Rec Room while I start working out. I should start a bedtime yoga routine to help me sleep better. 

Let's see if I can start making some of these changes to get me through the month. And if I do, what's stopping me from continuing them after this month is over? 

Days like today

Days like today are hard. 

Timehop and Facebook memories can be a wonderful thing. I love checking my memories each day to see what I was doing and posting about one year ago ,3 years ago, 10 years ago on this day. I especially love looking at old pictures! 

But on some days, like today, I don't want to open those apps at all. I don't want to be reminded about what happened on this day 10 years ago. I don't want to see the pictures. Because on days like today, it's just too painful. 

Ten years ago today, Austin and I were married. 

We were young, and in love, and happy, and naive about the world. I can remember all the nervous, excited jitters thinking, "This is it. This is my forever." Because that's what I thought it would be. It was what we had both planned for. What we expected. 

But marriage is hard. Life is hard. We learned that quickly. But we managed to still survive it together. We were still us. 

Then, life got hard. And we started to become less of 'us'. And it continued to get harder until we were no longer an 'us' at all. And that was devastating and heartbreaking because it was always suppose to be us. 

Only it didn't stop there. Life continued to be so hard that eventually we became so unlike anything else we had ever been, so far removed from the 'us' we once were. And then, one of us was gone forever. 

This was not the life I imaged on this day ten years ago. This is not what I wanted, not what I had hoped for and prayed for. And yet, this is where I am. 

Looking back on this day ten years ago, seeing the pictures of two happy and in love people who no longer exist... that's painful. Reading the sappy anniversary posts we wrote for each other... those make me incredibly sad. 

And then there was this post. From three years ago, on our seventh wedding anniversary. And the last anniversary we would celebrate. 

I remember first reading this post and being filled with a hopeful joy and love. I remember thinking maybe this could be where we turn it around. I thought we still had a chance at us. 

But now, when I read this post, I feel regret. I feel dread. I feel shame. Because when I read this, I can't help but feel like I gave up on AJ. Like I let him down. Like I failed him.

Before you all start yelling, I know logically, that what happened to AJ was not my fault. I know that. He made his own choices. But just because you know something, doesn't mean your feelings will agree. 

Things got too hard, too difficult. I needed to do what was right and healthy for Jacob and I.

But I also got too angry. I completely let go of the us that we had been and any resemblance of us. 

And then he was gone. Forever.

I lost any chance that we could be an 'us' again. I lost the hope that I had clung to, deep inside, that one day we would find our way back together again. Any dream I had about us in the future was abruptly taken from me. And that's what I'm left with now.

An incomplete us. 

World Suicide Prevention Day

September is Suicide Prevention Month and today, September 10, is World Suicide Prevention Day. I can't lie and say that seeing so many social media posts about this day doesn't bring a large amount of pain. But I realize the importance of this day. To speak out. To help end the stigma. To let someone else, who might be struggling, know that they do matter. 

Because here's the thing. I'm on the other side of a suicide. I am someone that struggles with the unexpected loss and grief after someone I love ended their life. And it is a place that I wish no one else would have to be in. 

The grief and pain I felt after losing Austin was something I've never experienced. It was raw and sharp and heavy. And while the edges are slowly starting to dull, it is still a pain I have trouble explaining. We as Austin's loved ones were left with so many unanswered questions. That's truly one of the hardest things. We have hundreds of questions and we will never get a single answer. 

These past few days have been especially hard. Was it because I started seeing things for Suicide Prevention Awareness? Maybe. It also just seemed that Austin was around in a lot of places lately. I still can't accurate describe the feelings and emotions I've struggled with over the past couple of days. If I had to try, each day felt like one big, deep sigh. It was hard to concentrate on anything. I literally wanted to do nothing. I was extremely tired, feeling down and even my body felt heavy and exhausted. 

It's these days that I really hate the fact that Austin is gone. That he left us. That he left Jacob. It's a deep pain for me. 

But then I try to think about the type of pain Austin must have been in. I try to think about how low he must have felt. And still that provides no answers and only more pain. 

I've struggled to talk a lot openly about Austin and how he died. But I think that I need to. I have a voice I can use to help others. I have a voice that could maybe save someone else. 

When was the last time you checked in on some of your loved ones? When was the last time you made sure they knew you loved them. Or that you're always available to listen? Or that they are worthy? 

The WHO recently reported that every 40 seconds, a life is lost to suicide. Every 24 minutes, one American dies by firearm suicide. That is far too many souls lost. 

The Coalition to Stop Gun Violence recently created a new website to help prevent firearm suicide. I urge you to get educated, as I plan to do myself. 

Another helpful article, written by an attempt survivor: Stop telling people "It Gets Better".

Bishop Elizabeth Eaton of the ELCA recently shared this message: "Suicide can be prevented. We are never beyond God's mercy and compassion."  

And if you know of someone grieving the loss of someone by suicide, please do not call those suicide victims selfish or weak. And other reminder of why we should stop saying "committed suicide". 

So today, on this World Suicide Prevention Day, and every day, in memory of Austin, I ask that you get educated, that you become aware, that you reach out to your loved ones and that you help end the stigma. 

A long overdue 2019 update...

This year has not been good for my blogging skills and I'm long overdue an update to 2019. But it was recently pointed out to me that often the second year after a loved one's death is harder than the first. That first year, you're in shock, you're in survival mode. But the second year, that's when you really start to process your feelings of loss, your grief. And that can have an impact on daily activity or function. 

At the start of 2019, I chose FOCUS as my Word of the Year. But I've got to tell you, I have not been focused this year. I have struggled staying focused - in so many ways. I started the year strong, with clear goals in mind of what I wanted to accomplish. But many quickly became goals I just couldn't grasp. There have been many days when nothing in particular has been wrong, but I've just felt off. I think this is an effect of my grief. 

While the year has definitely not gone the way I wanted to, it has still been busy. I'll do my best to recap the past 7 and half months. 

I started the year getting a few things organized for Jacob and I. I created a schedule that hangs in Jacob's room that we can put up of all the day's activities. Jacob likes to know what's going on. Jacob was busy with Rainbow Room at church and swimming lessons at the Rec Center. I had joined Minnesota Valley Chorale again this season and choir practices started up quickly. We also spent one very cold Saturday exploring the St. Paul Winter Carnival and an Ice Castle! I have to admit, the ice castle was really cool!! ;-) We also froze bubbles outside in the -20 degrees weather!

In February I got to participate in Pedal Past Poverty, as part of my mom's church group from Messiah. Jacob was there to cheer us all on - myself, Nana and Papa. 

Pedal Past Poverty

We also took Jacob tubing for the first time at Mt. Kato. He had a blast!! Our first trip up the conveyor belt, Jacob kept losing his balance and falling over, getting carried along and struggling to get up. It was funny to watch. The rest of the day he got pulled in the tube and so he was not nearly as exhausted as Brandon and I were! I also managed to fall the down the stairs while carrying a sick Jacob. Sprained my foot and had Jacob throw up all over me. Winning parenting moments. Overall, we got entirely too much snow and storms and wind this winter. That was not fun. I summed up the month of February in my planner as "survived".

March started a busy church season of Lent but we manged some fun in there too. Jacob and I got a trip down to Iowa in right away and it was so much fun to watch Jacob play with his cousins. Brandon and I went with some friends to the Four Daughters Winery for a dueling piano event where we have a table right in front - so fun. We also went to Rochester to see my very good friend in her local theater's performance of Avenue Q! She, of course, was amazing! And the show so funny! Although, it had been years since I last saw the show and you can tell it was written in a slightly different time. 

Great Wolf Lodge

Marshmallow Pit

Jacob, Brandon and I also spent a weekend in the cities at the Mall of America where explored Candytopia - basically a dream come true for me. It was so fun and neat to see everything made out of candy - really like Willy Wonka! Jacob really enjoyed the marshmallow pit at the end! We spent the weekend at the Great Wolf Lodge enjoying the water park - especially the wave pool! 

Candytopia

Sips for Shelter

April was busy with church and choir practices. Throughout the month of April, I was singing in four different choirs! The Worship Choir and Chamber Choir were both a part of church. Then there was MN Valley Chorale and the Mankato Children's Choir - more on that later. I tried taking Jacob to an egg scramble, but there were too many people and he didn't want to participate. He did enjoy playing at the playground though! The weather was super nice that day. Jacob got to spend an extended weekend in Iowa with his grandparents and cousins, which he LOVED. Chelsea and I managed a girls day while helping a good cause at the Sips for Shelter event, put on by Partners for Affordable House. We spent the day being bused around to different local wineries and breweries and it really was a super fun time. 

Also in April, I made my final payment of student loans!!! YAY!!!! 

MCC Concert

In May things started to slow down, choir-wise. I decided to sing in the Alumni Choir of the Mankato Children's Choir with a good friend. We both grew up singing in MCC and thought it would be fun to do the alumni choir as part of the 25th Anniversary concert - and it was! It was great to see some familiar faces and old directors! While the Minnesota Valley Chorale had our two concerts in April, we were still practicing. We had been invited to sing with the Mankato Symphony Orchestra. They were doing Handel's Messiah. This was my first time ever singing with an orchestra and singing so much of the Messiah. But it was such an amazing experience, I'm glad I did it. 

The last few months of school were somewhat challenging for Jacob. While he's a smart kid, he was having trouble staying focused. Sounds like the beginning of this post! He wasn't listening like he should, would rather walk around by myself than do his school work or listen at story time. He was using some "potty words", trying to get the other kids to laugh and distracting the class as a whole. We tried a couple of different things and we talked through it with Jacob's therapist. (He regularly sees a therapist and has been since the start of 2018.) Finally, we found a system that seems to connect with him. Jacob would have daily sheets sent home that would tell us how he did for each party of the day. He would get a smiley face, an OK face or a sad face. His points would get added up and he had a goal he tried to meet each day. There were rewards both at school and at home when he met certain goals. By the end of the school year, Jacob seemed to be on track and doing what he needed to be doing. I was extremely proud of the progress he made and thankful for the teachers that helped us at school. 

Champagne Bar

Brandon and I also decided to take a vacation during May and spent five days in California where we explored Wine Country and San Francisco. We both decided the vacation was too short but we had a fun time wandering around and relaxing. I even convinced Brandon to do a spa day with me which included a mud bath! I'm not going to lie, it was a little weird but super relaxing. The weather was perfect while we were out there. 

Chicago 

Jacob meanwhile, spent a few days in Chicago with my parents and had a blast. He really enjoyed going to the top of the tallest building and standing out in that glass cube. I admire his bravery! 

And then it was summer! Ah the start of summer. When the weather gets better, the days get long, you have a ton of fun plans and then you only manage to do a fraction of them.. 

I did get to spend a weekend in Rochester catching up with two very amazing friends. We went and saw the super funny movie "Booksmart" and spent the weekend catching up and talking about life. We managed to get to the Air Spectacular event as well and saw some really awesome airplanes doing some amazing tricks. We also went to the Lake Days parade in Lake Crystal and enjoyed the marching bands. We found a new seating spot this year, right at the beginning and I'm pretty sure it's our new favorite spot. We ended the month in Iowa, celebrating Jacob's birthday with family. 

Cousins!

July was a bit busier. We started the month celebrating the 4th, Jacob's birthday again and the wedding of a cousin's out at the family farm. All of us cousins were finally in the same place at the same time! It was a miracle. Jacob did TWO weeks of Vacation Bible School - one at Messiah with Nana and one at CTK. While he might not have been a fan of going that much, he was a trooper and did good! 

Girls Weekend

I also enjoyed an extended Girls Weekend getaway with some high school friends. This was our second year of having a girls weekend and it was just as much fun and definitely needed. It's always amazing when you can get together with friends who you don't see very often and sometimes don't talk to very often, but it's like nothing changes. I love having such a great group of women in my life and I love all the fun we have. 

At work, we had a Office Family Outing at the Mankato Moondogs game at the end of the month. It was a fun afternoon of food, drinks and baseball! Then, I ended the month up in Fargo, at our headquarters for our annual marketing meeting. This was the second time I've been to Fargo for a marketing meeting and the second time I did not manage to get a visit to Dan and Josh in! There's always next year. 

And finally, August. We spent one Thursday exploring a new park up in Jordan with some friends and had a great time. The park had a great playground, a splash pad and a little beach! We would definitely go back. Then Jacob and I went to Iowa to take part in the 2nd Annual Focus Up on Mental Health 5K, which is organized by Austin's sister, in his memory. It was a very successful event and a great weekend to spend with family. But our weekends down there are never long enough and Jacob did not want to leave that Sunday. 

Just last week, Jacob had Camp MidKnight at school. This is where they invite all the incoming kindergartners to come experience what a typical school day will be like once school starts. It's so amazing because they have not only the Kindergartner teachers there, but also many of the preschool teachers. They have practically the whole school to themselves, get lunch and meet new friends. Jacob had a really fun time, saw some friends from Knights Plus and made some new friends. While he's excited to finish out his summer vacation, I think he's also really excited to start school again. 

I also had the chance to attend my 15 year High School Reunion last week!!! What?! Yes, 15 years. We all kind of missed the ball on this and so the event was thrown together last minute. But we still managed a good showing and it was fun to see old friends and classmates that I haven't seen since probably our 10 year reunion! :) 

Jacob and I have spent the last 10 days fending for ourselves while Nana and Papa are enjoying a trip overseas! And I'm happy to report that we are surviving! And while it's nice to know we're capable of taking care of ourselves, we're also looking forward to the return of Nana and Papa. And if I'm not mistaken, I think they're glad we aren't taking this newfound freedom of living independently too seriously and that we'll probably stick with the basement a while longer. :) 

So here's to the rest of summer vacation, my favorite season fall and then winter before we know it. 

More pictures from the year:

Like I said, entirely too much snow

Cousins!

Kindergarten Roundup!

Happy Easter!

Air Spectacular 

Celebrating 150 Years at Our Saviour's Butternut

One Year Later

It's been one year since you left us forever. 

There was no warning.
No goodbyes.
No explanation. 

When I think about this date one year ago, it seems that the year went by incredibly quick. But when I think about the past year, it seems nonexistent, like time stopped all together. 

When you left, it brought a painful end to a number of struggles. But it also brought a painful beginning to new struggles. 

Over the past year, I've had thoughts and feelings and emotions that I didn't know where possible to have. I experienced grief on an entirely new level. I've been reading books and articles on grief and they comfort me because I don't think anyone can truly understand what it's like to really understand grief until they experience it personally. It's a strange thing. 

One year ago, our lives changed forever. One year ago, I can remember clearly when I found out, yet the next few days, weeks are fuzzy. One year ago, I started asking questions knowing that I would probably never find the answers. One year ago, I had to tell the sweetest four-year-old that you were gone forever. 

There is not a day that goes by when I don't think about you. Probably not even an hour. 

Sometimes I still feel shocked that you're gone. There is always sadness and pain. And I've also felt a lot of anger. The grief can be all-consuming. 

I've waited over the past year, prayed, hoped, wished for some sort of closure. Maybe a letter from you will show up in the mail. Maybe it wouldn't provide all the answers to the questions I have, but would give me something. I'd be lying if I said I still don't pray for that some days. 

I've struggled to understand. To understand why. To understand what you were feeling. To understand why you felt this was your only way out. To understand if there was something more I didn't know. To understand how you could leave Jacob and me. One year later, I still don't understand any of it. 

You've been gone for one year. Although, if I'm being honest, in a way, you were gone long before then. Yet I couldn't tell you if that makes the physical lost of you harder or easier. 

One year later. I'm still not okay. This is not okay. I'm not sure this will ever be okay. 


--
I believe that the first anniversary* of a death is always going to be extremely hard, yet this week has been more than I imagined it would be. In some strange, cruel twist of fate or irony - I don't know - I have been forced to essentially relive these three days or so from exactly one year ago. 

That Thursday night one year ago, it was Kindergarten Round Up at school. We had pretty much decided that Jacob wasn't going to go to Kindergarten but planned on attending the evening to learn more about the Knights Plus program. This Thursday night, Jacob and I attended the Kindergarten Round Up as he prepares to enter Kindergarten next fall. 

Last year, I don't remember exactly, but Jacob stayed home. I think he wasn't feeling good. When I talked/texted Austin, he decided he wasn't going to come or I told him it wasn't necessary since Jacob wasn't with me. He also might have been stuck working later than he originally thought. I think that was the last time I talked to him. I can't remember if he called later that night to say goodnight to Jacob, as was our ritual. I want to say he did. 

I can't stop thinking about what could have happened if he had come with that night. Would I have been able to see his struggles? Would I be able to tell something was off? What if Jacob had come along? Would seeing Jacob that night made a difference? I logically understand that the outcome was probably never mine to change, but that doesn't stop the thoughts from coming. 

Then Friday. What should have been a normal and uneventful day at the office until everything changed. I almost found myself constantly looking behind me, waiting for a co-worker to come and tell me that the sheriff deputy was there and wanted to talk to me. I left work early; I couldn't be in the building around that same time one year later. I also had a doctor's appointment scheduled, a yearly check-in. Last year, this happened the Monday after it happened. I remember going, feeling like a hot mess of emotions. This year's appointment felt no different. Although there was more anger. Anger that I had to be having these conversations about my mental well-being at literally the worst time of the year.

And Saturday, the actually anniversary date. Last year, there was nothing but fog and sadness. I remember basically nothing. Will today be the same?  

It feels like I've been watching and performing in some slow-moving movie where I know what's going to happen, but can't stop it from happening. It's felt a bit like torture actually. 

This is hard. This is nothing like anything I could have expected. There are so many feelings it's hard to adequately describe how I feel or tell you how I'm doing. I just know that for right now, I am not okay. But for right now, that's okay. 




*Why is there not a better term for the annual recurrence of events that are not happy or celebratory? Can we create one? 'Anniversary' just seems too happy. 

Grief

Last night the tears came hard and fast. I hadn't been myself. Apparently, I have appeared down. But I couldn't quite put my finger on it right away. 

Then it came. The grief. The overpowering sadness. The realization that he's gone and can't come back. The unfairness of it. It all arrived quickly and knocked me down. The tears wouldn't stop. I struggled to catch my breath. 

There didn't seem to be any noticeable trigger. Instead, it appeared like a sudden downpour on a cloudless day. It felt raw and fresh. I'll admit, I was surprised by the intensity. The ferocity of pain and sadness.

I wanted to wrap myself in something of his. A sweatshirt or a t-shirt. The loss felt so distant and I craved to be near him again in some sort of sense. I had to stop myself from crawling into bed with Jacob and holding him as I cried, the one thing that will always connect us. 

And on top of all of that, the knowledge that it will never get better or easier. It will become different. The pain may be spread farther apart, but it will always be there. Lurking just below. 

Even today, it continues. A grief hangover. My eyes puffy and red. There's a heavy lead something in my chest, holding me down. Even my arms and legs feel hot and heavy. 

I feel alone on my island of grief. But that's okay. There's seems like nothing anyone could say or do to help me through this wave of grief. It'll pass and it'll come again. I feel like I need to just experience these emotions when they come. I don't need your pity. When I need your comfort, I'll come to you. But this pain and grief feels like mine alone. And mine alone to work through. 


I think with Father's Day on Sunday and Jacob's birthday around the corner, I'm stuck in a place of ... I don't even know. Sorrow of what he's missing out on. Mourning what Jacob is missing out on with him not around. And fear that I alone am not enough for Jacob. 

So no, I guess I'm not okay. But that's okay. I don't need to be okay right now. And I hope you can be okay with that too. I ask that you just keep letting me process my thoughts and feelings as I need to. I ask that you just let me be not okay sometimes. I promise that if it gets to be too much, I'll reach out. Maybe check in sometimes if you feel you need to, but try not to be upset if I only give noncommittal answers. Sometimes, that's the best I can do. 

I've often thought in the past few months that even when I wasn't doing okay, it was better to just act like I was. Easier for people to think things are fine. Easier than trying to answers questions about how I really feel when I can't even explain it to myself. But I'm just not sure I have the strength to do that anymore. 

I'm realizing just how tricky this feeling of grief can be. I will probably never understand it. But it is completely a part of me now. And I guess I'm just trying to figure out how to be okay with that.