Just One More Show

It was 8:30pm, bedtime for the kids. After a long week of school and running, we are all tired on Friday nights. Yet, as usual, when I say it's time for "B-O-D" - a term I picked up from my brother John, who has said that to his daughters since they were 2 years old, they corrected me - "Mommy, bed is spelled B-E-D, and can't we watch just one more show?" I answered automatically, "Nope, bed, as soon as I let Gracie outside." I opened the door and stepped out onto the back porch. The air was warm, the breeze light and the clouds were moving around to reveal the stars.

"Okay!" I yelled. "One more show. Get your shoes on and come out here." They obliged gleefully, and we sat on the back porch and watched the stars. We counted airplanes as they rode through the sky, we pointed out the big dipper and Paige asked, dorkily, that it be filled with milk from the milky way so that she could have a drink. I think she might have actually snorted. After fifteen minutes of random questions, "Will Uncle Jeff be okay? If you could wish on these stars, would you wish for Uncle Jeff to get better?" When I said "Yes" to both questions, they both made wishes on the stars for their uncle. Felt good. Real positive.

By the time I was ready to tuck them in, they were so happy and so refreshed with the show that nature had provided that they didn't give me any fight as I tucked them in. We were all asleep within ten minutes.

This show certainly beat the zaniness of Tom & Jerry, the wholesomeness of Little Bear and the idiocy of The Power Rangers. And it was free.

Running on Empty

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

These are the last four lines of a poem written by William Wordsworth titled Ode on
Intimations of Immortality.

The thoughts I've had lately lie too deep for tears, which explains why my stomach is turning everything over and over, even though my appetite has been less than normal under any circumstances. Maybe the thoughts aren't deep, but there is definitely an overload of thoughts. If my head had a red danger light, it would be flashing, the horn blasting to all who come into contact with me. Too much, too fast and for far too long. I'm tired. So tired of the past two years and the upcoming two years. I'm tired, and tears won't come. Just headaches, irregular heart palpitations and stomach cramps.

I am going to try to obliterate some of the stress by running today - to the point of having to puke, I know that. Once I start, I can't let up, even though it's probably insane, even though my head will probably hurt worse,even though my stomach is sure to punish me for it. I have to run. Too much stress on my back these days.

And what do I do on top of my own thoughts? I throw worry about my family's health (not just Jeff) but everyone else's too because I know that they're suffering too. I want to cry it out. I want to sleep and wake up clear. The thoughts are too deep for that. Ah, but the human heart expands and contracts to make room for all emotions, and perhaps tomorrow, I will face joy. I have to believe that tomorrow, I just might face joy.

Untitled

It is very difficult to think clearly in the midst of a crisis, in the midst of a situation that is out of your control, in the midst of sorting through words from medical doctors that paint a picture of the bleakest reality.

At the moment of seeing the tragedy, we were all equipped with dealing with it. Our hearts were prepared to deal with whatever reality this life gave us. And we stood together, shoulder to shoulder, to gain even more strength. That bond is unbreakable, and the strength from it is divine. Divine. I use that word with a purpose.

Sunrise comes, I climb the ladder...

My life has changed once again. My perspective has changed. My world is spinning just the same, but I am seeing it from so many different viewpoints. I stand outside of the turmoil, and I see it clearly - the "is" in "it is what it is".

Hope soars around me, landing on my shoulder, my hands, my heart...

Faith doctors the picture of reality, makes it palatable and amenable to fixing.

Love is a power stronger than anything.

I have all three. We have all three of these. We can do anything with these.

With these hands... with these hands... with these hands... I pray Lord.

Incredible

The sunrise was just incredible this morning. Shades of pink and purple that Crayola could never imagine. An artist would have cried at the possibilities. A poet would have had to dig deep for words to describe it. And this mother had to hold herself back from waking two sleeping toddlers and wrapping them up in warm blankets to sit outside on the porch and watch as it changed into even deeper shades of pink and purple. Incredible. My camera couldn't capture it, and I tried to show them the pictures I had taken. They've grown used to seeing various images on the camera that Mommy has tried to freeze in time. I'm not that good... but maybe with a better camera. Doubtful. Too incredible.

I won the Mega Millions... spent $10, won $2. I feel richer, somehow. I went to bed last night with questions in my head, running around for a place in line. I concentrated on organizing them, peeling the layers of fog from around them and noting the truth of what was happening inside my head. I broke the thousands of thoughts down into about four real issues. I thought about the questions, asked them succinctly and then gave my mind free rein to figure it all out as I slept. It's funny how all the things that seemed so important last night just disappeared. I can hardly remember why I was so stressed out. Sleep is truly a drug.

So are sunrises. So are early mornings in the quiet. So are radiant smiles from two beautiful children - messy hair, sweet and pungent morning breaths, and an amazing ability to make their mom smile. As I was pouring Tony's cereal, I looked up to see Paige leaning in for a kiss from him - his hands were on both of her cheeks and his lips were out. They kissed, did a quick hug and then looked up at me expectantly, smiling. Oh, I wish I had my camera on me then. But I would have never been able to capture the beauty of it. Again, incredible.

It's only been an hour since I opened my eyes. I won $2, saw a beautiful sunrise, witnessed an incredible kiss, solved majorly stressful problems and am now floating on a super-sized raft of the love of this world.

This is the moment - these kinds of moments are the ones that assure me of my faith that things will turn out okay.

Jeff - I didn't win much in the lottery for you, but I have a hell of an ally on my side.

One Life to Love

It's been a while since I wrote. I had a wicked week full of stress, and on Thursday I decided to take a trip to Buffalo on Friday - and I would drive, not fly. The drive is a long one - 7 hours - and especially long when you leave on Friday morning and go back on Sunday morning. The cost of the flight is usually worth the 14 hours of driving. But I wasn't trying to save money or time with this trip. I was trying to stabilize myself. That drive, with Bruce sitting shotgun, and Van Morrison, Jackson Browne and Mark Knopfler wrestling in the back, was pure therapy for me.

For the first two hours, I couldn't get the divorce from my mind because we kind of settled just two days before. I didn't think about the settlement, I thought about the marriage. And I'll miss it. I'll miss him, and I made up my mind that I will concentrate on the goodness of the marriage, not the bad parts. That's not healthy. And I have forgiven him, and I did love him dearly, and, and... well, it's a chapter closed now. This one does have a happy, yet bittersweet, ending. We'll raise our kids together with love and kindness, and that's the most important. Ah... forgiveness, kindness and compassion. Solves everything.

For the next three hours or so, I thought about Jeff and my family. I heard a song by Mark Knopfler called Golden Heart. It's a phenomenal song and I've always loved it. This time I felt it. I realized that my family - brothers, sister and in-laws found our golden hearts through this crisis that Jeff is facing. We found our golden hearts because of the love we have for each other.

"Live your life as though it is your last." I never liked that quote because it was usually stated by somebody throwing back a beer and contemplating some sinister move in their life. Yet, as I drove, I thought about it a bit more. You only get one shot to make the right choices.

Make the right choices.

It's encompassed in the following chorus of the song One Life to Love:

You only get just one time around,
You only get one shot at this,
One chance,
To find out the one thing
That you don't wanna miss,
One day when its all said and done
I hope you see that it was enough,
This one ride,
One try,
One life,
One ride,
One try,
One life,
To love,
To love...

I don't know. I want to be assured by someone or something that I've made the right choices in my life, and usually I know intuitively if I am on the right path. I think we all do. But, at the same time, I'm a little shaken that others don't see it the same way. I can't say I am right because I don't know. What I am 100% sure of though: In the 26 days Jeff has been in the hospital, I haven't been as comfortable with my life as I was yesterday and today, sitting beside him, holding his hand as he slept and healed. I spent the day choosing to love.

The trip taught me that I will try my hardest to find an opportunity every day to simply love. A tender touch, a kind word, paying for a stranger's coffee at the drive-thru, biting my tongue, offering help, listening...

loving.

Check Yourself

Pieces have been tumbling over each other lately. All the various pieces of my life seem to be hitting a wall, throwing everything back at me, and I'm caught up in the juggling of it all. Life is okay if one thing is wrong - I can handle that. Then, something else gets thrown in, and although wobbling, I seem to still be standing. And then the mother of all bad things happens - a critical injury to someone who has a heated place in your heart, a comfy room, his own covey. And the realization that he might have died hits, and that in itself is two-by-four across the forehead. Then you begin to think about his life, his worries, his upcoming struggles, and the crap just keeps bouncing off the walls - aiming straight for your vital body parts.

Tomorrow is f***ing mediation, and I am struggling with holding those bouncy balls inside me because I just don't want to deal with the fact that the divorce is imminent. I don't know if I am ready for that emotional hurdle yet. I keep saying that I am, but when it comes to having to sign on that dotted line, I know my hand is going to be shaking. It's like signing away one of those vital body parts. The vow is still stitched in. And the talks will be about money, and anyone who knows me, truly, knows that money is so not important to me. But my kids are, and their stability is, so we must. I am simply dreading the aftermath of how I will be defined by his lawyer tomorrow. I should be hardened to it by now, but alas, I am not.

The kids have been great. They grew very crabby today, and were pushing each other and calling each other names. Enough! It's nap time. Boy, they fought me like crazy, but as soon as I got them snuggled beside me in my bed, read two long stories to them, they barely acknowledged my departure through their sleep eyes. They slept for nearly two hours, and tonight at dinner, both of them agreed that the nap was the best thing ever. They are happily playing together, waiting for me to finish this so I can give them a bath. Lovely, lovely children - the blessings of this now-defunct marriage. A little sad, isn't it?

Okay, check yourself Carrie.

They are lovely, lovely children... I'll leave the thought at that. I wish I could stop all the negative thoughts like that. But sometimes, they just exist to be banished I suppose - replaced by relief and closure. Oh, dear, when? When?

Love

In light of it being Valentine's Day, and me being a hopeless romantic (although I haven't had romance in a very long time), I decided to try and write about love. I saw it in my daughter's eyes yesterday as I danced the YMCA beside her in the gymnasium of her school - "the big dance event". They were wide eyes, happy, happy eyes and very secure. Her daddy was there too, and she tried unsuccessfully, to get us to hold hands and dance the twist together (awkward!), but we were connected to her and she looked back and forth between us with such love and gratitude in her eyes. The moment was bittersweet for me as a little pain pierced that dark part of my heart, but I shrugged it off, knowing that it is better this way. Her eyes, man, so awesome.

I saw love this morning in Tony's eyes. He was staring at me, wide-eyed, when I opened one sleepy eye. As soon as he saw my pupil, he grinned the biggest grin I've ever seen. He took my face in both his hands and said, "I love you more than everything Mommy" and kissed me full on the mouth. That's love, and I got that this morning. Happy Valentine's day to me.

Love is forgiveness resulting from understanding.
Love is trust, even when there is cause to doubt.
Love transcends physical distances.
Love is caring for someone, despite being torn apart by that someone.
Love devours hatred.
Love is given freely by my children because they haven't been hardened by the sadness in this life.

Love is what I feel for most people - even the rude bastards on the road, even the looney relatives who make bad choices, even the dickhead who invented those tiny craft beads that children use to make necklaces during craft time.

Incidentally, I'll be wearing a homemade bead necklace and bracelet the next time I go out - maybe next year. Maybe in love again.