Preparation

Some events of the last few weeks have inspired me to write down some thoughts--

The other day I heard a terrible story of a girl around my age who lost her husband about two weeks ago. He leaves behind this young wife and three young sons.
As I was talking to my friend about it, she was tearing up and saying how she just can't get the tragedy out of her mind. She said she's been trying to imagine what it must be like to lose someone that close to you and that she has no idea if she'd be able to handle it if she found herself in the same situation. It was like she was reaching out to me asking, "How do you handle these terrible things that happen in life?...How do you not just give up on God?" And, "How can you keep this from happening?"

I told her that she would do the same thing that a lot of us do--She would rely a lot on her faith, because in those moments she would know that's all she has.

I don't claim to be an expert at many things, but I feel like I can say a word or two about the topic of death. I'm sure there are many others who are much greater experts than I. However, my experiences with death have inspired a newfound passion for an important concept in life: Being prepared.

The thing is, I'm pretty sure you can never be fully prepared for your own worst nightmares. There's just nothing you can do that will take away the pain of heartbreaks that large in life. But can you soften the blow? Maybe.

Maybe you can do that by talking to your loved ones. Don't be afraid to talk about the possibilities of your own mortality. Express love often, express wishes, plan ahead. Make sure you have a sufficient education. Get life insurance. Be smart with money. And again, talk, talk, talk. I cannot say enough how glad I am that Michael and I had those uncomfortable but necessary talks about death. For some crazy reason, and I believe it was by no accident, Michael and I had not one or two talks the year before he died, but about four good conversations concerning those possibilities. We talked about money, remarriages, children, our home, you name it. I don't consider this to be a normal thing for young couples to do. In fact, I know it's not normal. But it should be. It really should. Those conversations have helped me so very much as I've had to find my new paths and trudge ahead.

I suppose the most important preparation I ever made that prepared me for this heartbreaking trial was building a foundational belief in my soul at a young age that God is real and that he cares. That belief in God and my subsequent relationship with Him has helped me more than anything possibly could. I practiced faith as a young girl, and I utilize my faith often as an adult. That wouldn't be an easy thing had I not established a testimony early on in my life. I learned to rely on God as a very young girl, and that proved to be the best way to prepare for the future.

I remember sitting next to Michael during sacrament meeting one day and he turned to me and said something like, "We are so blessed. We have been given so much in our life together. The Gospel gives us so much. It has all the answers. And even if we are asked to do the hardest of things, like deal with each other's deaths, we have our faith that reminds us of our eternal bonds."

So very true. So grateful I had a husband who has taught me the importance of thinking ahead and living meaningfully.

It's not always comfortable asking yourself if you feel prepared for the possibilities of the future. And even though I preach preparedness, I know I have much more preparing to do.
.
Because of my own experiences, I can't help but think that one way to prepare is to remember those who are living through their hardest of days, and to support them in any way possible, because that's living meaningfully. I have been given so much from people who have reached out to me in my own life, and I am convinced that kind of reaching out is what makes the difference.

I guess that's one of my main points in all of this:  That it is through each other that we can help prepare for the future.

I hope and pray for the young mother I heard about who just lost her husband....and I hope to reach out.

Gratitude

Michael,

With each passing month and year since your absence, I have been met with unsurprising challenges.  This past year has been no different.  Sometimes it's pretty easy to focus on the disappointment and hurt of life. 

But today is Thanksgiving day, and I want to make a point of focusing on the positive, even if for a moment.
I went to a neighbor's funeral last week and this poem was written in the program:

I'm Free
Author unknown

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free
I'm following the path God has laid, you see.
I took His hand when I heard him call
I turned my back and left it all.

I could not stay another day
To laugh, to love, to work, to play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way
I found that peace at the close of day.

If my parting has left a void
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss
Oh yes, these things I too will miss.

Be not burdened with times of sorrow
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life's been full, I savored much
Good friends, good times, a loved one's touch.

Perhaps my time seemed all too brief
Don't lengthen it now with undue grief.
Life up your hearts and peace to thee
God wanted me now; He set me free.


It's not easy, but I try to envision you saying those words, and I try to have that optimistic outlook on the life you lived. 
Today, I am grateful for you.  Grateful for the "remembered joy." 

On the same note, a few weeks ago I had a dream...One I don't want to forget.  I was with your family somewhere, feeling of your absence, (a common occurance), when all the sudden everyone told me to run outside and look at the sky.  You were in plane, high in the sky, and you wrote a message to me.  It said, "To my Lisa:  Stay strong.  I love you forever.  See you soon."  Afterwards, Cathi was talking to everyone about how you were on a mission and that the absence was hard, but she was so proud of you.  She hugged me and told me to remember those words, that I would see you soon and that you were on a mission, doing good things.  It's not uncommon for me to dream about you, but sometimes those dreams I feel are worth writing down.  This was definitely one of them.

Some of my best memories of us together involves the Thanksgivings we shared.
We had a Thanksgiving in Arizona (we cooked the whole thing!), we had a few Thanksgivings at my parents', and we spent a Thanksgiving or two in Colorado with your Aunt Deedee and family.  We'd also often have an early Thanksgiving dinner at Ron and Joann's the week before turkey day. 

We took our famous family picture on our last Thanksgiving day.  You loved the holiday, and you and I really knew how to revel in the relaxation of it all.  I remember the oreo pie you loved to make during the holidays, and the awesome sweet potato casserole that your Dad and Joann always made.  You loved that. 

We watched a lot of good movies over the holidays (or we watched our recorded Office episodes on TiVo), we did a lot of good puzzles together, read books together in our travels, and you had an awesome Thanksgiving morning tradition with your brothers.  I hope you were able to be with them this morning. 

Thanks for the memories.  :)

Our last Thanksgiving together.

Thanksgiving '08 at Aunt Deedee's in Colorado.

Family picture in Colorado--Dallin's farewell--Thanksgiving weekend '08.

preschool program

Andi's the one in the Ariel costume--on the left, playing the triangle.  :)

 

Michael,

 

Last week Andi had her Halloween program for preschool and your mom and Bethany came.  It was so nice to have them there.  Having your family around and seeing them makes me feel one step closer to you, and I'm grateful for that.  Their support means the world. 

 

After the program, Bethany sent this email and it just made me so happy.  I wanted to share her words:

 

"Today was a joy beyond joy. When I say Andi is beautiful, I don't just mean that she's a darling girl to look at, which she is, but she is beautiful in all the ways a creature of pure light is stunning and beautiful. She has turned into such a gorgeous girl, and her sweetness, sensitivity, intelligence, kindness, playfulness, it all just hit me in the face so hard today! So much of her daddy I see in her! It's impossible to look at her and not see Michael, and that, my sister, is such a beautiful thing! The only thing I could even say is that she's beautiful, but I mean it in a way that means so much more.

Anyway, thank you SOOOO much for letting me be there for the little Halloween Review! Fire safety tips we can all use, I think, and Halloween songs to sing for years to come. So fun!"

 

I love your fam, Michael.  And I love our girl.  What Beth said is totally how I feel about her. I'm so grateful that she can see all that in her, similar to the way I see her. And I'm so very glad she can see you in her, because I see it a lot too....In ways that are hard to explain to everyone else. But it just gives me the chills to know that you are still living...in her. 

 

Each time I put her to bed at night I tell her that "Daddy Michael will watch over you."  I hope you are and that you can see all these cute, wonderful things she's doing.

 

Love you forever.

Memories to Smile About

Michael,

I love that I'll be going along, doing my usual routine, and all the sudden I'll remember something about you or us that makes me smile.

Like, Lofthouse Cookies.  Oh man, you loved 'em.  Especially that last year....That was your fettish.  So cute.  And gees, I can't blame ya'.  I remember looking on the nutrition facts for those things and always remembering that shocking information when you'd come home with one of those treats.  :)

Also, Napoleon Dynamite.  What a stupid, stupid show.  I'm sorry....I'm just not one of those people that caught the Napoleon craze.  You, however, oh my gosh...You laughed so hard over that dumb movie.  We went to the movie theater to see it when we were dating.  And you talked about it for years after.  Good times.

Do you remember how I always had to make sure Airborne was in the house, because you were always wanting it on hand?  You'd use that stuff with the sign of any illness, large or small.  I remember once you think you overdosed on it because you broke out in a rash.  Ha ha.  That's my Michael.  Go big or go home.

I also remember when I got stuck in the bank's drive-thru in Arizona one day.  I called you in a panic, going off about how stupid my car was and I begged you to come get me.  You walked probably two or three miles across a field from your school to come to me.  When you got there, you figured out what was wrong with my car and we were off.  Oh, man...I love you.

Another Arizona memory that came to mind was when we went to dinner at the home of one of my fellow temple workers.  We spent the evening with two couples who were in their twilight years.  And you were such a good sport about it...You actually even enjoyed yourself.  You were so cute to them and made great conversation.  That was one thing I always appreciated about you...You were great about socializing with others and going places with me.  A great support that way. 

The other day my dad was talking about a guy he knew whose obituary he saw in the paper.  I was asking Dad about this friend and I think I asked something like, "So what did he do with his life?"  And Dad said something to the effect that he didn't win any big prizes but "his life was meaningful."  I thought that was awfully wise of my dad to say, because isn't that what really matters? 
I can tell you, Michael, that your life was meaningful.  And continues to be.  You leave a great legacy behind and I feel that legacy every day.

Last month when our family went on a hike, Andi turned to me after running up the hill and said, "Do you think Daddy Michael sees me running?"  I said of course, and I really believe that.  I know you and I know you wouldn't leave us in the dust.  I believe you're watching over us, and I hope so badly that can keep happening.  I need your help and encouragement, and I need to feel connected to you. 

Always and forever~

Fall

Michael,

I was driving around doing errands today, enjoying the fantastic fall colors and thinking about how I just want to take a million pictures of it all because it's so beautiful. I swear I've gotten crazy about wanting to capture every little moment of life because I'm all too aware of how fleeting it can be.
.
Every time a fall comes around, I just can't get enough of it. Being outside and enjoying the beauty of the season makes my heart so full. Brings so many emotions to the surface.

I feel so grateful for my beautiful hometown, my country, and my God who created this wonderful earth with its beautiful seasons.

I am so grateful for the memories of fall to get me through the harshness of winter.

I am so grateful for memories of you, Michael, that get me through our separation. You inspire me to keep going and giving and working. Your friendship to me means the world and the love I have for you grows and grows with each changing season.

Welcome to Holland

Dear Michael,
I came across this story the other day and it reminded me so very much of the journey I have been through since losing you.  I often ache so very deeply in my soul, knowing I am missing out on the wonderful dreams we were planning to live out together. 
These words relay my feelings so well:

Welcome To Holland
by Emily Perl Kingsley
©1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved. Article printed with permission of the author.

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...... When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting. After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland." "Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy." But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place. So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. It’s just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned." And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away...because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss. But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

War of My Life

Michael,

Today marks two years since the "war of my life" began.  It's been two years of finding "plan B."  Two years of clamoring for strategies on how to survive without you.  Two years of missing you, of grieving, feeling helpless, feeling hopeless, fighting, of battling sleepless nights, of learning,  growing, aching, and of experiencing every emotion I have at a greater intensity.  So many things have conspired these last two years, it's impossible to sum it up.  Last year I found a song that really captures the overall feeling for me these last two years:  http://youtu.be/h8_Y_1psB6g.  It really has felt like the "war of my life," even though it's just one of many. 

As I mentioned, ever since you left it seems I have felt every life's emotion with much more intensity than I ever did before.  It's almost as if each feeling flows through my veins and through the very core of my soul.  I'm not sure exactly why that is....Perhaps it's because I appreciate and enjoy the "joy" with greater purpose, or maybe because I ache, hurt, and feel anger with a much greater capacity than I ever did before.  As a result, it's difficult not to allow the emotions of this day to overcome me.  To me, this date is simply not worth acknowledging since it once brought so much pain.  But at the same time, the reality of the date is very real and is too much of a reminder of that fateful phone call and the agonizing days and months that followed.

I will always try to battle those negative memories with the many more positive ones that we made and that you made throughout your life.  There are indeed so many positive and wonderful memories about you that I will constantly love and cherish.  Some of the latest memories I've been thinking about:
--When we'd half our gum pieces and you'd make the wrapper in the shape of an "L" for me.  Usually at church.
--When we went to Wolf Creek with my family the summer I was pregnant with Andi.  We went on a walk one morning and my family was waiting on us so we could all go up the Nordic Valley ski lift.  Everyone always made fun of us for being late all the time.  And it just so happens I'm still a late person even now that you're gone.
--How you'd always make fun of my speed walking.
--How Andi and I would be outside and we'd knock on your office window to get your attention.
--How I'd wake up to the blaring noise of x96's morning radio show.  So annoying.  :)
--How you'd always say, "It's a Christmas miracle!" everytime anything good happened.
--The thermostat at the cabin.  You put in the whole a/c unit there, so everytime I go up there and see that thermostat with the "Lee's" logo on it, I am reminded of how wonderful you were to do that.  I am reminded of you a lot when I'm at Bear Lake.  I feel close to you up there.
--I remember when we were dating how you'd wear that lame "Anger Management" t-shirt and how I thought it was totally geeky.
--Sardine canyon always reminds me of you because we drove through there on our first date.  We talked so much on that drive. 
--Standard Plumbing, American Standard, Carrier, Johnstone supply....always remind me of you.
--I have all these memories of going to movies with you--August Rush, The Holiday, P.S. I Love You, Robin Hood, My Sister's Keeper, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Starsky and Hutch, The Mother-in-Law, etc. etc.  That last movie was the movie you always said was the beginning of your hatred for Jennifer Lopez.  :)  We had a lot of good movie viewing times together.  So many movies remind me of you and things we said while we watched them.

Here's a picture of your hats I have sitting at home:

The famous Nebraska hat was the one you were wearing two years ago today, right before you jumped in the water.  This hat is YOU.  You should be wearing it right now; nevertheless, we're on to Plan B, aren't we?  Today is a negative day, and so I will be honest in saying that while I trust in God, I will never expect to make peace with your death while living on this earth.  I will gratefully take God's comfort that reminds me that He is in control, but I imagine I will always struggle to find reasons why you had to leave this earth when you did. 

Maybe one of the greatest lessons I've been learning these past two years is that there is always something to learn, always a challenge to work on, and that getting older doesn't necessarily mean things get easier.  Life does, however, gain more and more meaning as time goes on.  You are most certainly a part of that meaning. 

Thanks, Daniel :)

Daniel sent me these pictures I just knew they had to go on the blog.When you died, I figured Daniel was the one to take over your precious bike.  You loved that thing.  You had it when we got married and you treated it with much care.  You rode it in the mountain biking club at Weber State.  You rode it to school everyday in Arizona.  It was how you got around. 
So when I got this email from Daniel, I was so happy to see how well he understands you:

Look guys, I'm not trying to assume that you think this is as cool as I do.
Because, frankly, it's rather nerdy.
I was originally just going to send it to Lisa, but then Beth said she wanted to see.
And then, I figured I might as well include everyone...

So, I'm borrowing Michael's really nice Mt. Bike.
Which I've been sure to be super anal about, just like Mikey would want.
Recently, I've had the opportunity to use some birthday money, and an inordinate amount of time*, to turn it into a 'tribute' bike.
(*just ask Laura... I did a complete tear down, OCD clean, and rebuild)
Yup, I've 'pimped my ride' (sorta -more of a prototype, really).

Without further ado, I attach for your viewing pleasure;
"THE HULK"

Easter

In Young Womens on Sunday, they showed this video that I really loved.
It's a cheesy old church movie, but for obvious reasons, it really touched me.
I want to post it on here because I'm hoping my family--all of you out there with a loved one in "heaven," as I say to the girls--can watch this around Easter time and be reminded of what the resurrection really means for each one of us.
How grateful I am for my Savior and for knowing I can see Michael again. 

http://youtu.be/pl-dWrhqoxU

More learning...

Daniel, Laura, and Maelee at Michael's birthday celebration.  January 9, 2012.

Andi loving her baby cousin Gigi.  Bethany was very patient with Andi's eagerness to be with her. :)

Such a good picture.  Always a little hard to see so clearly the missing piece.

The cake.  I think you would have like this one, Michael.

Grandma Joann and Andi takin' a walk. 

To my Michael:
Yesterday was the first day of Spring, and it occurred to me that this will be my second spring without you.  I cannot believe the constant ways in which my soul has been challenged, stretched, shaken, and densified since then.
I am so so grateful for my new life--For the wonderful new people I have in my life to love and take care of.  Thank you for any support you've given towards this new journey in my life.  I'm finding myself putting in much heart and soul into this new life, because I know that's what I should do and I know it's what it takes.  I'm glad to do it.  Happy to do it.
But every once in a while I'll have a quiet moment...Like, sometimes after I put the girls down for a nap and I sit in my office for a while (...at your old desk that I love so much.)  Or, oftentimes as I sit up late at night when everyone else is sleeping, and I see the stars and hear the night air travel through my window, I feel my old friend Grief settle back in to each crevice of my soul.  It's that same old tinge of deep, soul-wrenching sadness that makes me feel so incredibly helpless in its presence. 
It's such a good thing that I don't have as many daily opportunities to dwell on this terrible heartache.  It's so great to be able to give this grief "the finger" as I keep busy with these new tasks and people in my life.  But at the same time, I'm realizing that my grief really has become a friend...That perhaps it isn't something to run completely away from.  Maybe my "old friend Grief" needs a greater welcome from me, because as I once predicted, it's never going away.  And maybe, just maybe that horrifying feeling of helplessness that it brings is a good reminder of the fragility of life and the importance of our eternal bonds.  I need to feel of those eternal bonds, for I miss you.
Maybe that's why I've been so bent on keeping up with this blog and with writing these letters to you.  This grief monster that keeps finding ways to burn out my insides needs a place to express itself.  I can run and work out all I want, and while that helps, I gotta' give all these feelings a voice.
I also just long to keep you alive.  You might be gone physically, but not otherwise.  You're always alive in me!  Yes, cheesy, I know, but true.  Here are some memories I've thought of as of late:
--I remembered the April Fool's Day when you put the elastic on the kitchen sprayer and I ended up getting water all over the entire kitchen.  You laughed so freaking hard.  Some of the papers that were hung up on the fridge that day I still have hung up on my fridge now.  And they're still crinkled from that wet mess.  :)
--I remembered how my mom always forwarded you her dumb emails she got when she was working and how you read every single one (even though I'm pretty sure she sent like five a day.)  Whenever you'd catch up on your email, you'd spend at least an hour reading those stupid things and you'd always make me come in to read them.  I can hear your voice saying, "Babe, you gotta' come read this..."  Then you'd laugh about them with Mom at Sunday dinner, and I think she got a kick of the interest you took in them.  Love you for that. 
--Do you remember the suit fiasco the night before Andi's blessing?  You (or, was it me?) forgot to pick up your suit from the dry cleaners.  Now the dry cleaners was closed and you had no decent suit to wear the next day.  You seriously called the owner of the dry cleaners.  Seriously.  That's my Michael.
--I'll never forget the day you gave Aunt Jeanne the heimlich remover.  When she started choking I literally started yelling at you to "get over here!"  I knew you were the best man for the job even though the entire room was full of people.  And you did it!  You nearly broke a rib in the process (I actually think you did), and you felt really bad about it, but we were all so proud of you.  My family often joked about it around you with nervous and grateful laughter.
--This isn't really a memory, but a while ago I was driving in the neighborhood of our Kaysville house that we had bought and were waiting to fix up and live in.  Man, it just stings the soul to drive through there and feel the reality of our unfulfilled dreams.  I loved the dreams we had and shared together.  We had big plans for that house and it woulda' been awesome.  (If we didn't kill each other first while we were in the process of getting there and even living there...)
--Do you remember going to family and friend get-togethers that first year of Andi's life?...Anytime we were the first to leave you'd explain that we had to because Andi was a "ticking time bomb."  ha
--I have this sweet memory of when I was dating you:  I came to your Ogden house one evening and I walked in on you as you were giving Jeremy's dog a bath.  I guess Erin and Jeremy had asked you to watch him for a few days.  You were in your bathroom scrubbing away at him while singing in this darling voice, "Fresh and clean....fresh and clean...Zeus is gonna' be so fresh and clean."  It melted me.  Yeah, I know...Doesn't take much.:)
--Also when we were dating, I remember when you brought me to the hospital with you to see Erin and Jeremy's newly arrived, first baby boy, Tagg.  I kept saying, "Are you sure Erin would want me here?"  And all you kept saying to me was that they were like family--That they felt the same and that I might as well understand that now.  :)  It was neat seeing yet another display of your loyalty and love towards your best friends and their families.  Along the same lines, it's also been neat to see how loyal these friends have been to you since you died.  They have kept such a good eye on me.  They helped me move, they threw me a "shower" before I married Eric, they continually invite me to blessings and sealings and whatnot.  They are wonderful and come to find out, they really are family.
--I remember one summer night before Andi was born, you were working on putting in a new a/c at a beautiful new house in Alpine.  I was already in Salt Lake, and pining to see you at least ONCE that busy summer week, so you told me to meet you there.  (I often remember trying to track down the sight of your van in efforts to meet you somewhere so we could see each other during those busy summers.)  That night I "helped" you install the unit and you showed me around the pretty house.  It was a fun memory. 
--The other day Andi was watching "Monsters Inc."  She loves that show and you were the one that bought it for her.  I remember you used to quote "Mike" on it a lot.  Remembering your funny voices makes me laugh.  You quoted movies so well.  You also had a great impersonation of Ricky Ricardo when you would talk to Marion's dog, Lucy.  :)

So there are some more memories to reminisce about for now.

I know I mentioned this in my other blog, but Andi's been talking about you so much lately.  I to keep you and Sheri as topics for any open discussions in our family...I want them to understand our circumstances, and feel comfortable sharing feelings.  (Hopefully without overdoing it.)  And Andi seems to want to do that.  She often makes cards for you.  Last night she drew on a rock for you and said that she was going to "keep it until I get to heaven so I can give it to Daddy Michael."  When we drove by the temple last week she cried that she couldn't go in it because she said she wanted to go see "Daddy Michael." 
Oh....Michael...Sometimes it takes all I have to not just cry out in pain when I hear these things.
I freaking hate it so badly.  There's just no other way to put it. 
How grateful I am that the Kleins are here to be with us in those times.

My dearest Marion died this last January.  Her death seemed to have come and gone so quickly.  She has been such a huge part of my life.  She has certainly been a huge part of my life these last two years.  I want to write more about her.  I want to remember her.  In the meantime, I'm glad to know you're with her.  She comforted many of my tears since your passing.  How grateful I am for her.  Take care of her for me...She's my other grandma and I love her so.

Another Valentine's Day passed without you.  I'll never forget last year when your sweet sister Bethany sent me the most beautiful roses, accompanied with such a powerful note that reminded me so much of the love we share.  How grateful I am for her.  And how grateful I am for how well you taught me to celebrate each holiday to its fullest.  Andi made a Valentine's Day card and we put it on your grave.  You are our forever Valentine.

It was pretty crazy when my 30th birthday came and went without your crazy antics to embarrass me with.  I'll never forget my 25th when you decorated my classroom.  Actually, decorate isn't really the right word....More like massacred.
Do you remember your 30th birthday?  We had that big party at our house and I made that fun "Wanted" invitation with your driver's license picture on the front.  So fun.

What would be your 34th birthday came on January 9th.  Your family, Andi, and I met at your favorite restaurant--Chile's--and it was a really sweet gathering.  Ron and Joann had gathered many pictures of you, me, and our little family and they displayed them all over our area in the restaurant.  They blew up our family picture and had it standing on an easel.  Made me cry.  That was just a few days before I took the plunge and married Eric.  It couldn't have been sweeter.  So good to be reminded of "us" and that we do in fact live on as a family...somehow. 
Andi loves your family and is adoring Bethany's little Gigi.  She went on a "walk" with Joann and she stayed close to me the rest of the time, of course. 
I went to Dick's and got your favorite chocolate and custard cream cake, decorated on top with nothing less than Superman himself. 
Daniel and his family dressed as clowns, which I thought was a good way to celebrate your day.  Perfect reminder of your fun and craziness.
Thank you to the Allens for your support that day.  Love you.

A few weeks ago my dad brought me the book, The Uses of Adversity" by Carlfred Broderick.  It's a quick read and really captures the pain of adversity quite well.  I obviously thought about you the whole time in reading it.  And I think you would have taken his same approach:  That pain is torturous, herendous, and soul-wrenching stuff that can wreck you up entirely.  But it's what we signed up for, and there's no way around that fact.  There's purpose in it, even though we don't need to be told that in our darkest moments.  The author was very sensitive of how completely terrible life's pains can be, while also being able to illustrate that it's our choice in how to deal.  I have to remember that when that Grief Monster comes again to wreck havoc on my insides.
And there is no question that it still comes.  But now it comes in the midst of all these new adventures I've taken on of being a new wife and stepmother.  I find myself at times feeling deeply challenged in trying to bridge the gap of the past and the present.  I so badly want to do so.  A quote I found comforts those emotions well when it says, "There is no permanent winning or losing when things move, as they should, in a circle.  For is not life continuous?  And though I shall die, shall I not also continue to live in everything that is?  The buffalo that eats grass, I eat him, and when I die, the earth eats me and sprouts more grass.  Therefore nothing is ever lost, and each thing is everything forever, though all things move."

In these new adventures, Michael, I am once again finding myself realizing of my need to learn.  My grief book says, "During these experiences we have little choice but to be humble, because we are finidng out, often painfully, that although the past pulls powerfully, everything about how to create a new life for ourselves is yet to be learned.  This requires us to examine our ways of thinking and behaving in order to determine what can be useful and what will be destructive and detrimental." 
That very much sums up my days lately.

Eric and I have been trying to read some more stuff about the Spirit world and what it is you guys could possibly be doing there.  It's all interesting and it's intriguing to imagine what you're up to.  I do know that you're around, though, and I am so grateful for that.  Don't leave.  We need you.  Our family is a team. 

Love you forever~
_______________________________________________________________________________
Some quotes and poems of meaning to me lately:

"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us." Joseph Campbell

"If any of us are imperfect, it is our duty to pray for the gift that will make us perfect....No man ought to say, 'Oh, I cannot help this; it is my nature.' He is not justified in it, for the reason that God has promised to give strength to correct these things, and to give gifts that will eradicate them. If a man lack wisdom, it is his duty to ask God for wisdom. --George Q. Cannon

And an email I want to remember:

Dear Lis,

Been thinking and thought this might serve as you begin to recieve 'days of plenty' as you 'carry on' with your life:

 Days of Plenty

"I never dreamed of this sorrow
I never thought I'd have reason to lament
I hoped I'd never know heartbreak
How I wish I could change the way things went!
I wanted nothing but goodness
I wanted reason to prevail
Not this bare emptiness
I wanted Days of Plenty.

But I refuse to feel tragic,
I am aching for more than pain and grief.
There has got to be meaning,
Most of all when a life has been so brief.
I have got to learn something,
How can I give him any less?
I want life to go on
I want Days of Plenty

You have to Believe,
There is reason for Hope
You have to Believe
That the answers will come
You can't let this defeat you
I won't less this defeat you
You must fight to keep him there
Within you

So Believe that he matters
And Believe that he always will
He will always be with you
He'll be part of the days you've yet to fill
He will live in your bounty
He will live as you carry on your life

So carry on,
Full of Hope,
He'll be there."

For all your Days of Plenty
I love you so,
Dad Allen.

Lyrics to "How Could I Know":

"How could I know I would have to leave you?
How could I know I would hurt you so?
You were the one I was born
To love
Oh, how could I ever know?
How could I ever know?

How can I say to go on without me?
How, when I know you still need me so?
How can I say not to dream about me?
How could I ever know?
How could I ever know?

Forgive me, can you forgive me?
And hold me in your heart?
And find some new way to love me
Now that we're apart?

How could I know I would never hold you? Never again in this world?
But, oh
Sure as you breathe
I am there inside you
How
Could I ever know?
How could I ever know?"
Lyrics www.allthelyrics.com/lyrics/the_secret_garden_soundtrackIn one of my grieving books, it quotes a lady that says,"When we find moments of release from the suffocating weight of our own grieving, the love and companionship we have with our friends and family continue, of course, to be important.  It will be important not only for those times in the future when we experience a recurrence of our sadness and grief or suffer a new loss, and for the times when our family and friends will, in turn, need our support in a loss, but also for the times of quiet togetherness, of joy, of celebration and play.  For we recognize now, probably to a much greater degree than we did in teh past, how integral friends and family are to our well-being and how nurturing are the bonds of love in our life." 
That same book also says, "I'm convinced the reason we are here is to remember, if we understand memory to be that unique human ability to create from the past a sense of meaning in the present and a trembling anicipation of possibility in the future."