Falling Behind...

I have been falling behind in my blog posts as I have been reminded on several occassions lately. It is not that nothing has been happening, but rather that so much has been happening. Unfortunately just not with him. He has settled into his new enviornment and they are learning about him. They are trying to make him as comfortable as possible and are trying some new things with him. Some new approaches to his physical therapy and some new medications. So far things remain much the same. It has been a relief, not having to drive to the bay area, and staying with S&S has been wonderful, comfortable and normal. A nice change of pace. The girls have gotten to see him at their whim, for as long as they like. This has been a good thing, but also a reckoning. I think for them, while they wanted to see him, and asked about him, the distance also gave them a buffer from the situation. I have noticed a change in H on her recent visits. She is no longer the giddy cheerleader, bouncing in, trying to elicit a reaction. She has become more somber. More contemplative in her visits. Some have asked me what or if I tell them of his pronosis, but I have elected to let them lead. To let things take their natural progression. I knew that she would start to question, start to come to terms with the reality. She has. She has not given up hope, but the frenzy has subsided. She visits him, and looks into his eyes and talks to him, but she comes away with resignation. It is a hard thing to watch. It was inevitable but still a hard thing for a parent to watch in their child. I try very hard to balance their lives in other ways. To be so young and have to deal with something so grave, robs them of an innocense. I have tried to focus their energies instead on honoring thier father by doing the things that he would want and expect them to be doing. It is still hard, but it is time to start moving forward, to think about the future. Not leaving him behind, but in the ways that we can carry him with us, so that he continues on. We still hope for the best and continue to research and provide the best opportunities that we can, but life is not standing still. My children have not stopped growing. I have to keep moving forward for them, and reminding them of the best parts of him. The things that are not lying in that bed, his love, his laugh, and his spirit that lives on in them every single day. So we are moving ahead, trying to find new things to look forward to, continuing to surround ourselves with our family and friends. Moving ahead, even when feeling like I am falling behind.

To everything, turn, turn, turn....

There is a season. It has been another busy couple of weeks. As I said before, it is amazing to spend a year and a half emotionally raw and fighting every day. Eventually you build up calluses. I was starting to feel numb to the routine. Putting one foot in front of the other and juggling my balls in a pattern that I had become familiar with, then they were plucked out of my hands and tossed up in the air to settle into a new pattern. Some legal issues are almost settled, he has been retired, officially. WC declared their intentions. I finally got the answers to my burning questions about health insurance. With one answer, it seems a new question is generated. I have new questions on the horizon, some that may never be answered. I fought for all of those months to have him placed in the brain injury program, to give him the opportunity that he deserved. That process became it's own adventure. The drug therapy, the defibrillator operation....and then the abrupt transfer to Fairfax. The one without my request or consent. I grew to like and appreciate the facility and the staff, but the drive was killing me. 4 hours each way. I had to farm my kids out every weekend. We had no down time at home, the girls and I. We would run all week for school, activities, etc. then drop everything, be gone all weekend, get home Sunday night, and start the week behind. Play catch up all week in between ferrying the girls around and still never get anything done. It was killing me. I am sure I have not been much fun to live with. A little over a week ago I got word that a bed was available in the sister facility to the one he is currently in. It is more like a group home than a hospital. It is a home-like environment, 6 beds. They have speech therapy, physical therapy and occupational therapy on site. It is not as shiny and new as the one he has been in (although there are plans for a remodel) but it has the same amenities, the therapies, the whirlpool bath, home environment. He moved on Thursday. The day before the Halloween Carnival, for which I was the coordinator for our class. Right before Halloween weekend when the girls were so excited. So I spent Thursday getting him settled, Friday back at school, Saturday took the girls to see him, Sunday back home for Halloween, Monday back to school. Whew. It will take some getting used to. A new collection of staff to become familiar with. For them to learn about him and us. The best part? It is just outside of Roseville 90minutes away! S lives less than 10 minutes from him! We can stay with her. The girls can see him. The facility sits on 5.5 acres and has rolling lawns and a duck pond. It has a paved driveway where they can ride their bikes to show their dad. It has a long covered patio, where the girls spent hours drawing pictures for him with sidewalk chalk. It has a little porch swing, where they swung and dangled their legs and called out to him, giggling as they did. They can come with me. I can have dinner with them in the evening and put them to bed. If something happens when I am home, I can be there in 90 minutes or S can be there in 10. That is a good thing. The rest we will have to work out. There will be change. Some good, some not good. We will have to forge on and make a path. We will do our best. That is what I tell the girls when they look at me and tell me how much they miss him. I say "I miss him too, more than anything. But what would Daddy want us to do? Our Best. He would expect us to do our best each day."

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time of war, a time of peace
A time of love, a time of hate
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time of peace, I swear it's not too late!

Falling into Fall...

The last weeks have been a blur of life and legalities as some of the battle of the last year and a half are finding resolution. Of course, these things would all conspire to occupy the same time period. When I have felt the enormous weight of it all, I keep telling myself to plow through, to keep treading water. I am sure that a month from now, when some of these issues are at long last off of my plate, I will be glad they are over instead of lamenting their timing. I admit it is bittersweet, these resolutions. To know that some battles are over, that we have won them, should feel like a relief. On the other hand, those fights have claimed the empty hours of my thoughts, have kept me focused and on task. They have forced me into a strict routine, to keep to a deliberate plan. To be freed of these weights should bring a sense of peace. I am sure it will with time. My first feelings were of emptiness, of my world dropping off again. When you are juggling this many balls it should be a relief to have one removed, but I felt the loss. I felt his loss. I suppose it all really goes back to the way I deal with things and process life. When our world was irrevocably altered, I made a plan. I looked ahead to the possibilities, and made a plan. I thought of my goals, and what I would need to do to get there. I thought long term, and as new balls were bounced into my lap, I thought about where every one of them should be in the line up, and how they would help or hinder my process to the goal. No shift is unplanned. So when someone unexpectedly plucks one out of the air, and casually says "you don't need this anymore!", there is relief as the weight is gone, as you start to move the other balls more freely, have more time and space for them. It is also anti-climactic. When you have to control your anger, pain and rage, to channel them into something useful, something to help you rather than hinder you, it gives you a certain clarity of vision. You compress them, all into a single minded goal. It buoys you, gives you strength. You don't really think about the why, or the how, you just do. You take everything that is handed to you and use it. In the process the goal, is what you are working towards but it becomes almost mythical. It is not that you forget what you are fighting for, but that the process of the fight becomes all consuming. When it is finally over, it feels sudden, and you stumble. There are still more battles to be waged. More fights to be fought. He is still fighting the biggest battle of all, and we still know very little about what might be going on in his head. I am sure that this time next month, I will be relieved. For now, I am a bit at a loss. Still trying to find my new rhythm with one less ball to worry about. It is at these times when it all hits so hard again, like ripping the band-aid off of a wound. In the end, it is better to rip it off quickly, but at the moment you pull it off, it hurts. It is excruciating.

"My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you
I've been runnin' round in circles in my mind
And it always seems that I'm following you girl
'Cause you take me to the places that alone I'd never find

And ever as I wander I'm keeping you in sight
You're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter's night
And I'm getting closer than I every thought I might

And I can't fight this feeling anymore
I've forgotten what I've started fighting for
It's time to bring this ship into the shore
And throw away the oars forever

No I can't fight this feeling anymore
I've forgotten what I've started fighting for
And if I have to crawl upon the floor
Or come crashing through your door
Baby I can't fight this feeling anymore "
REO Speedwagon

Another Fork in the Road...

Over the last year, there have been many paths we have travelled that I thought we never would. Today marked the start of another one. There was no fanfare or celebrations, but today he became "retired" Sheriff's Detective Eric Christopher. I am not sure it is actually "official" as no one has notified me in writing or otherwise, but when we had our meeting, they gave me today as the day. It has been just over 15 months now. Fifteen excruciating long months, with few answers or understanding. Today marks the start on a new path. The symbol of another door closing. The finality of a part of him, and a part of our life together. In the land of uncertainty, it is defined. I do not know where it will lead, it is all uncharted territory for us. Another fork in the road.

The Week.

The week in review. It is hard to believe that after over a year of time, so much comes to a boiling point in the very same week. On Monday, I finally met with the county and had my questions answered. There was an apology given, an excuse, an explanation. "Things were complicated by WC...." I heard them. I understood what they were saying. I understood those complications from the beginning. I also told them, that while I appreciated the difficulties of the situation, had they simply communicated that they needed more time, instead of ignoring me. Ignoring all of my attempts at communicating, not calling on the days and times specified by them for such communication. That I made myself available each and every one of those times, but was left waiting. That the unforgivable part was not in the fact that they were unprepared to meet with me or discuss my questions. The unforgivable part was failing to keep me informed. Failing to tell me that they they had jumped the gun in initially agreeing to discuss it, and that they needed a little more time. Much of my frustration, my fears, my changing plans, the extra worry, all could have been relieved with a simple communication. I hope that is now surely understood. That being said, the meeting was fruitful. My questions were answered. He is set to be retired at the end of this month. I understand what that means. I know how it works. I know how long I will have medical coverage. Questions, answered. Wednesday was a hard day for me. Many people knew and I got quiet messages through the day. It was his 40th birthday. 40 years old. 22 years ago I met him, we were both just 18. I remember the first birthday gift I gave him. We had just been dating weeks. Mad magazine, red licorice, and liquid starch. (ROTC uniforms) I also gave him a card. I ran across that card recently when looking in his things for something. In all of these years I have not seen it. He saved it. On Thursday I had to go to court. To gain conservatorship of my 40 year old husband. Friday found me making the 4 hour drive back over to see him, and as it is Sunday afternoon, I am preparing to make that same drive home. The girls did not know it was his birthday this week. I kept it to myself. They knew we did "daddy's race" for his birthday and D brought a cake and everyone sang happy birthday and it was a good day. It was a happy day for them. I didn't want them to close their eyes that night missing him any more than they already do. I didn't want them to feel that loss any more sharply. I will drive home tonight, pick them, tuck them into bed, get their things ready for school in the morning. I will unpack our suitcases, and do the laundry, set out their clothes for the morning. I will have a nice long shower before bed, and when I am there, I will cry. I will cry because I miss him, because they miss him, and because of all he is missing. When I wake up in the morning, the week will start all over again. Another day. Another week.

Juddgement day.

Judgement day, but is it mine or is it theirs? After almost 3 months of aggressively trying to get answers from the county, they have finally agreed to meet with me. They are supposed to have answers to a specific list of questions. We will see. Out of the blue I recieved an e-mail that they were ready to meet with me and discuss the issues of my concern. It contained a perfunctory one line of generic apology. Not much concern for adding more onto my burden, no excuses for setting up phone meetings, then failing to call me, no apologies for failing to even respond to my multiple messages. No explanations for initially responding that they would discuss the issues with me, then completely ignoring my many attempts to contact them. It will be interesting to see how this all plays out. I do take well to being ignored. I do not appreciate having unnecessary burdens put into my lap. I do not tolerate cowards, shirkers, or people that avoid their responsibilites well. We will see how they do with me. It is judgement day. Today I am thinking of him. Thinking of his way of facing the world, with honesty and integrity, yet willing to fight. I hope it doesn't come to that.

For him....

Risin' up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive
So many times, it happens too fast
You trade your passion for glory
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive

[Chorus:]
It's the eye of the tiger, it's
the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor
stalks his prey in the night
And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger

Face to face, out in the heat
Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry
They stack the odds, still we take to the street
For the kill with the skill to survive

[Chorus]

Risin' up, straight to the top
Had the guts, got the glory
Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive.

Eye of the Tiger: Survivor

As the days fall into years....

It is hard to believe that this month is here. It marks 22 years of our relationship. 22 years since we met as 18 year old kids, out of the house for the first time, and anxious to find our own way in the world. 22 years of the best times I could ever dream of and of the worst. 22 years and I am the only one who thinks about it. The girls have no concept of time, and how amazing that is. He is not aware of the time or it's passage. It is enough time to have born a child, raised them, and seen them graduate from college. A long time, yet not enough time. It is funny, they say that people change. People don't change. They grow, they adapt but they don't change. At the core of my being I am still that same girl who met a boy in her college laundry room. The girl who was reserved, cautious, and responsible, who met the boy with the heart of a boy scout, and an adventurous spirit. She recognized in him the passion for life, the quest for adventure, and the humor that she longed for. She was excited to be able to be able to have someone to show her a different path, to always make her laugh. She was the anchor that held their foundation firm, sometimes while they travelled together, and often keeping it solid for him when he returned from his own adventures. She is still trying, but she misses the laughter, as the days fall into years...