Meet Melinda McDonald

 

 

First, I would like to thank Wendy for filling in for me last week.  I was at my girl’s annual Girl Scout camping trip in WI (you know, the one where men are not allowed in the cabins and have to sleep in far away tents or in their cars.  I choose the car.).  I thought I would have access to Wi-Fi and found out when I arrived, that was not the case.  So thanks Wendy.

 

I am finding as the girls get older, free time becomes more of a premium.  I’ve always assumed that once they learned to walk, dress themselves, and pour a bowl of cereal, that my life would become easier.  Not the case.

 

There are now more time demands at looking at homework, more time when I come home from work, and more time on the weekends.  I recently watched a Ted Talk (go to ted.com if you are ever looking for inspirational messages and amazing speeches) where the topic focused on the idea of gaming and how studies show that the more parents play games with their kids (yes, video games totally count), the better groundwork you are laying down for them.  So yes, now more Donkey Kong Jr. and Mario Brothers have to be added to the list – if I must.

 

I am happy to be able to find more time with the girls.  I am making progress with them. If this was last year and Kelly said to me in Target – as she did a few weeks ago - after seeing that I bought a new backpack for Haley, if she could have a new one.  Not only would I have bought her a new backpack, but probably would have stopped at the local pet store on the way home and bought her a puppy. 

 

This is why the following simple conversation was a huge progress point for me.

 

“Dad, Haley is getting a new backpack.  Can I get one?”

“No. You still have your Hello Kitty backpack that is in good condition.”

“But how come Haley gets a new one?”

“Because Haley’s is three years old and it’s broken.”

“Please.  I really want a new one.”

“No.”

“Daaaddd.  Pleeease.”

“No.”

 

That’s huge for me!  Not only that, but when I put them to bed, I didn’t go to my room and beat myself up on how I should have gotten her a backpack and a puppy.

 

I am getting better at this.  My relationship with Cheryl has helped a great deal and has given me more confidence as a father/person.  She has been an inspiration to me that life can have challenges and yet there is still life to be had, still room to grow.  With all the sadness, this has always kept me going the most, that there is time and room for growth. 

 

All this being said, I am giving up my blog spot; it’s time to let others speak. I am honored Michele has given me a voice (forever grateful), so honored to have followed Dan in Real Time, and honored have our newest blogger take over Sundays.  Melinda will bring a powerful voice to this blog – I will let her share her life with you on her own time.   However, here is a quick introduction from her:

 

My name is Melinda McDonald.

I am 31 years old, and a suicide widow. I was widowed at 29 years old. My husband was 31 years old when he took his life.

 

Seth suffered immensely emotionally for 3 years, before ending his life. Watching what he went through is worse than anything I have ever seen.

 

From the day I met Seth, I knew we would be together forever. We were rarely apart, and were together for 10 years. He died shortly before our 5 year wedding anniversary.

We had a great relationship. He was my best friend, lover and soul mate. He taught me what a true relationship is like, what true happiness is, and what true love is. He even taught me how to make homemade beer.

 

As for me, life is getting back on track. I spent my whole “adult” life with Seth, so I am learning who I am, what I want out of life, and what my next journey will be. Because of Seth’s death, I am more true to myself, am a better friend, and eventually, will be a better wife.

 

I am accepting that I can have two soul mates, and hope one day I will find soul mate #2.

I enjoy photography, blogging, cooking, dancing (Zumba!!), my family (I wouldn’t have lived through this without them). I find great enjoyment in helping other suicide widows, especially letting them have a safe place to talk, and knowing they are not alone.

 

Thanks Melinda, best of luck, you’re in good hands. 

 

Thank You WV community, it’s been an honor.

 

Matthew

 

 

Haley Checks In

(love this photo of Haley and Lisa compared.  Same smile.  And no, that is not me next to my wife.  I am standing behind her, that's my brother-in-law)

I’m in the middle of writing my blog when my twelve-year daughter, Haley, walks in my room,

“Dad, can we buy The Hunger Games on DVD?  It's out now and grandma and grandpa said we can watch it after the girls go to bed.”

“I’m writing my blog right now.  Let’s talk about when I’m done.”

“You should write about your wonnn-derrr-fulll daughter.” She says. 

“I wrote about you guys last week.  Why, do you have any thoughts?”

“What is it you need to write about?”

“Who we lost and what it does to us.  How is it not having mom around?”

“Well, it’s different because there’s not a woman adult around.  It’s harder to talk about puberty to my dad because men have different versions of puberty.”

“What about when mom died. How was that for you?”

“I don’t remember much about my childhood. I know what she looks like, but not a lot of memories, not a lot of memories of anything when I was eight.”  She says.

“Does it bother you, you don’t remember mom?”

“No. Not really because I can’t remember a lot of things.”

“Does it feel strange growing up not having a mom?”

“A lot of my other friends don’t have both parents, don’t forget I have two kids in my class who had their dads die.”

“But does it bother you not having a mom and dad?  And let me rephrase, you of course have a mom, I meant a mom who was still alive.”

“I know what you meant.  Umm, that’s a difficult question to answer because I don’t know the difference.  I love her, but I don’t know the difference.”

“What about growing up with a dad who has to be the one always enforcing the rules?”

“Like I said, I don’t know the difference of any other way.  But it is different with the dad issuing the discipline because I heard I heard that mothers are more sensitive about punishments.  Can we go to target now and get Hunger Games?”

I’ll have to reflect later on this conversation, but I find it interesting that for her, this all seems normal.  The rough couple of years we all had to go through haven’t retained many memories for her.  Hmmm, so many questions I have.  I always assumed that having such young girls would be difficult, but maybe the kids who are already teenagers have a more difficult time because they do know the difference.

I don’t know.

I am constantly amazed of how resilient kids are. 

Back to School

It’s Saturday night and I watch my two oldest girls go through their newly purchased school supplies like it’s Halloween candy.  Still in the plastic bags, they go through one by one, taking out the pens and markers, pulling out the nine folders I bought of baby animals and like a draft, selecting one by one which one they want – Haley selects the bunny rabbit which was a bit of surprise as the kitten hanging out of a basket was the odds-on favorite to win.

The only reason they are still in bags is because I came home and just threw them in the closet.  School doesn’t start for another few weeks and I assumed they wouldn’t even care.  As a matter of fact I also assumed I would have to be the one to go and organize.  However, Haley came up to me while I was sitting on the couch and asked when we were going to go through the items.  I told Haley they could go ahead and do it themselves if they really wanted to.  I was confident my response would leave to a “never-mind”, but instead they both ran downstairs to begin their organization. 

If I remember correctly, they’ve been complaining about school starting soon, so this joy in anything school throws me off.  I put my paper down and walk downstairs.  There they are with all the bags on my bed.  Haley has her new backpack almost filled and tries it on with every new supply put in and walks around to give it a test run.

Kelly sees me and asks if I still have her back pack, now I feel bad as I only bought a new one for Haley, Kelly’s is still in good shape.  I am about to tell her I will pick her up a new one, but they seem to be having so much fun that I walk to the closet and pull out her pink Hello Kitty pack.  I get a “Bonus! I still have this!” and off she goes back to the bed to put in her supplies and –like her big sister, at this age always like her big sister – puts in an item or two and give it a test walk from the edge of the bed to the doorway, a whole four feet of walking.  Kelly nods her head as she gets to the door - she has given her approval that these number 2 pencils I bought will do just nicely in her Hello Kitty bag – and then back three and a half steps back to the bed to begin on the markers.

I am now in full dad mode as I hide behind the door and peek in so they can’t see me.  I watch the organization of this grand event – “Kelly tell you what, want don’t you take my, pooh bear pencil case, if you will let me your puppies notebook?” Haley says, holding the pencil case in front of Kelly to make the trade seem more desirable. “Deal!” Kelly says immediately, as she grabs it from Haley and begins to put in her scissors and glue sticks without handing Haley the folder, but seems satisfied with the exchange.

I like seeing my kids be kids.  I love these reminders that life is good and there is still so much to enjoy.  They force me to get out of my head of how difficult things can be, how much sadness is in the world, how much crap there is to deal with.  They don’t have time for all that over-thinking; there are pencils to be sharpened and flash cards to put rubber bands around.

It’s infectious, I think I put those bags in my closet because I don’t want to have to deal with the fact that school is starting in two weeks.  Is there anything more annoying that summer is ending and school is starting?  I don’t want to even think about all the details that school for three kids will involve.  But the kids didn’t even give me an hour, they pulled those bags right out of the closet and started their little party.  I can’t believe that I am thinking this, but I think I’m now excited for school to start also.  Damn the details, there is a year of new possibilities and wonder ahead for them.  Thanks girls, I owe you one.

The Conversation Starter

A follow up to a blog I wrote a few weeks ago.  The people who lived down the street from us who lost their teenage son to a heart attack while he was away camping.  I would see her almost every day walking her dog past our house and once even bumped into her and froze and asked about her puppy.  My blog lamented how of all people, I was worried about bringing up his death. Mister “people are afraid to talk about my wife” was afraid to talk to them about their son.

Last week I was playing outside with the girls and the couple were walking the dog and of course the girls ran over to pet it.  I went over trying to come up with that perfect death icebreaker (“What a beautiful dog, I see it’s a smaller dog. Did you know those live longer?  Speaking of life and death, I’m sorry to hear about your son”).  I joke, but it is true, trying to find that lead in sentence to bring up a topic where you’re not sure how the other person will react, kills many conversations. 

So having the luxury of already making up my mind from the last time I saw her (she was alone last time), that no matter what, the next time I see this family, I was going to bring up the death of her son.

I approach them and offered a smile. I was confident enough to avoid the small talk, no sense of bringing up the Cubs losing streak when I know the topic of death is going to make an appearance in this conversation.

“Hey guys. I don’t think we’ve officially met, I’m Matt.”

“Hi Matt. I’m Joan and this is Dave.”

“So how are you dealing with what the year has given you?”

Not the best opening line, but to my credit, I didn’t over think of what I was going to say. 

“We have our good days and bad days.” She responds.

“I wish I had some great pearls of wisdom that would make things easier for you, but I don’t.  It’s a rough deal, a game changer, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better.” I said.

They began to ask me questions and I was trying to pay attention to their body language and get a sense of when they were becoming uncomfortable and wanted to end the conversation.  They didn’t want to leave.  Even when the dog was getting restless and was pulling away from them, that would’ve been the perfect excuse to leave, but instead keep tugging the leash and telling him to hold on.

At the end of the conversation, that father – who had silent for most of the time – said, “Well, it’s nice to see someone who has gone through this and is able to talk about it.”

After they left, I knew I was glad that I brought up the topic, but I also knew that if I ever came across a similar situation, it would be just as difficult.  It's not easy bringing up such a personal topic to strangers.  But it's worth the gamble.  What did I hear in a grief group I was in:  Best friends may become good friends, good friends may become best friends, and strangers may become friends.

Long Term Forecast

This week marked four years since of Lisa’s passing..

We were in the car driving when I told my girls that the next day was the date Lisa died – no need to give them a longer heads up, not sure what I would want them to do with that information.  I asked the girls what they would like to do.

“Go to the cemetery.”  The six-year-old yelled back quickly. My girls all seemed to have figured out the statistics of: The idea that is shouted out first has a better percentage of being implemented.

Kelly hasn’t asked to go to the cemetery before and hasn’t been since Lisa was buried and she was two.  The response surprised me.

Haley, who is now old enough to sit in the front seat next to me responds, “I don’t want to go to the cemetery.  It freaks me out.  But if you’re going to force me to go, that’s fine.”

Molly says nothing as she is focused on pressing her window button trying to figure out why she can no longer put her window up and down and up and down and up and down.  I waited until her window went back up (after the fifth time) and then hit the lock button right next to me – a power I have yet to reveal to her I possess.

“Haley, I’m not going to force you.  Someday you will be ready, and when you are, you can go….”

“Daaaadddd!” Molly cries.

“I don’t know Molly,” I respond before hearing her question as I know what’s coming. “Maybe the window is tired from going up and down so much and it needs to rest.  Anyway Haley, you can go at your own pace, I will never force you.”

For Haley, this isn’t her time.  It very well may be that her time could be in twenty years.  Maybe there will come a point in her life where she is searching for answers and a trip to visit her mother’s grave will provide some missing pieces.

It’s a reminder for me to be open for all three of them that every now and then, their mourning will show itself.  Even for them now, it’s not an everyday issue, not even an every month issue. But it will always be relevant.

We ended up taking a cousin who at the house with us as well as Molly - who asked as she was putting on her shoes, “Are we going to meet God?”  I told her it was a great question and I would explain how this all works while we were in the car.

I took some paper and markers and the four of us sat around the site and drew pictures.  We collected sticks from the trees nearby and used them as push pins to keep the drawings stuck in the ground.  Pictures of hearts and silly designs now decorate where she lies.

The girls, being kids, asked if they could play tag.  They could get over how much room there was out here.  I was about to say no when the image of Lisa being with us struck me and I thought what a nice way to celebrate her life to let her children run around and laugh.

“DO NOT step on the gravestones on the ground.” I said. 

“Don’t worry dad, I love obstacles,” Kelly said, as they all took off running.

I cringed at the word of obstacles when talking about sacred ground. I am going off the premise that all those who are laid there love the company and have no issues of seeing people who are alive enjoy life.  Little different premise than the movie Poltergeist, but I know how Hollywood likes to sensationalize.

I was happy how my kids treated the day and I was very happy Haley let me know she was not ready for this.  After the cemetery, I took them to Culver’s for dinner and frozen custard.  I picked up Haley along the way, frozen custard she was ready for.  As for the rest, it will be at her pace, whatever that may be.   

The Widow Yoda

     Niles, IL may not be the swamps of Dagobah, but on Osceola Street lives one of my best friend’s mom from grammar school.  Growing up, we were always at their house.  Kenny had an awesome dad and a very funny mom.  When we were seniors in high school, his dad died and it was difficult for all of us.

 

After high school, we went our separate way to college. I can count on one hand the times I have seen his mom.  But when I sold our house two years ago and I move in with my parents, it put me back to within one block of his house and right in the middle of treat-or-treating territory. 

Last Halloween, with some families from our school, we were going door to door and came to Kenny’s old house – Kenny has since married and lives out of state.  The second the doorbell rings, out comes Mrs. Thompson, bursting through the door like best friends have stopped by to chat, big green bowl full of candy, and she looks down to the sidewalk to get a glimpse of the parents.  I wave hello and announce who I am.

“Hello. Mrs. Thompson, it’s Matt Croke.”

“Matthew? Is that you?” she says.

 Forgetting all about the kids, she starts to walk down her sidewalk to meet me.  I walk up and meet her halfway and the group of kids and parents head to the next house – my presence for my kids irrelevant for the conquest of obtaining candy.  After a quick hug, she comes right out with it.

 “Are you dating anyone yet?”

 Only Mrs. Thompson could blurt out such a statement that makes me smile before it makes me wince.  It was the same tone and aggressiveness she used on us over 30 years ago when we were all playing in the backyard with 4x4 trucks and she would come home, “Have you boys had lunch yet?  Come on, you need some food.”  You normally had very little dialogue with Mrs. Thompson.

 I laugh as I shrug, “No, not yet.  Just taking care of the kids.”

 “You need to date a widow,” she said, not having the least amount of interest of my thoughts on this topic.  I was half expecting her to tell me that I need to eat and go into the house and fix myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Listen to me, will you listen,” she continued. “You need to date yourself a widow. They know.  They understand.  It would be a good fit for you.”

"Okay Mrs. Thompson, I’ll think about…”

 “You’re young, you have time, find yourself a widow and enjoy life.”

I pointed to my children four houses away, thanked her for the advice, and said goodbye.  One of the mothers asked me what that was all about and I told her she wants me to date a widow.  We both laughed.  I had no intention of dating a widow. 

I didn’t like the idea.  Too many deep wounds on both sides, not to mention, what if it didn’t work out?  How painful would another loss be for each person?  Mrs. Thompson means well, she’s been there, but not sure she gets it.

I met Cheryl at a camping trip the Good Mourning program puts on for our kids.  I remember seeing her once or twice in our group sessions, but really didn’t sit down and talk to her until this camping trip.  We had a nice conversation: both had three girls, both had spouses fighting brain tumors, both had spouses with outgoing personalities.  It was nice to talk to someone with common ground.

We went out as friends about once a month – great being on the same schedule.  One of my biggest fears of dating would be to explain to someone why I sometimes couldn’t go out on a Saturday night at 7pm because the kids needed more “dad” time.  Cheryl is in a situation where her girls need more “mom” time.  Most nights we would go out past 10pm for a few hours. Kids first, us second.  I think it was this common view point we both had that brought us closer.
 
Although, on paper, there were many reasons we should probably stay friends, we decided a few months ago to start dating.  There’s been way too much over thinking the past few years on how I’m managing my grief, so I decided for this relationship, to let it be what it is.  It is what it is.  And right now, we are getting along; all the obstacles on paper will have to wait.
 
Mrs. Thompson nailed it.  Even when I thought she was wrong. “Listen to me, will you listen.  You need to date yourself a widow. They know.  They understand.  It would be a good fit for you.”
 
Maybe I should go back and ask her, now how do I manage a relationship while living in my parent’s basement?

The Wall - Tested

This is an unintended third part to my past posts about the wall.  I just finished writing a two-part blog about building walls after Lisa passed away.  Focusing on excuses and outside forces that allowed me to place brick after brick to build my wall and isolate myself from living a full life.  Talking about how I have torn down the wall and letting myself be vulnerable.

Two days after my post, Haley’s brand-new guinea pig died.  Haley, my eleven-year old daughter who was Madison WI with her two other sisters for a week and luckily wasn’t home to see what happened.  We bought a dog last year and it didn’t work out.  Girls were too jealous of the attention I had to give to the puppy.  So we sold it and I was mad at myself that I allowed a poor decision to take something else away from them.  So I went the safe route a bought a guinea pig (see first sentence of this paragraph to explain how that’s working out for us).

Having this happen so close after writing my last post, I took my own medicine.  My first thoughts were to come up with solutions that would minimize the damage (thinking about telling them I had to bring hers back to the store because of a previous ring worm problem and the store said we should get a new one).  With all that she’s had to deal with, I’ll be damned if I am going to give her more bad news.

But I knew going anywhere near that route would just add more bricks.  No, this is a tough world and we are going to try and live using its crappy rules.  I would tell her of this after getting home from me picking them up from Madison – of course on the drive home I get“I can’t wait to get home and cuddle with JJ, I’m sure he misses me!”  Sticking proverbial knife deep into proverbial chest. Ouch.

I took her to the backyard and simply broke the news.  Her face was in shock and I kept talking, “Haley, you’ve been through a lot and this is sad news.  I’m sorry.”

She took it well.  She decided she wanted to get another one.  She also asked me if it was okay if she let her friends know that he died –which I found as a very interesting question.  I don’t know why I found it interesting, but I did.

The one call I did make that I am happy I did, was instead of throwing JJ away, I went to the woods and buried him.  I even carved his initials on the tree by where he is buried – put the little guy in a backpack, went into the woods, found a tree, buried him, carved his initials, stood up, said some words, and headed back home.  I felt like I was in an old western movie.

When I told Haley what I did, her face lit up.  She asked if she could go visit the tree to which I said yes.  Haley has been too afraid to go to the cemetery to see Lisa and I told her I would never make her go until she is ready.  I’m glad she wants to visit JJ, this might be the perfect stepping stone to addressing something bigger.

I told her I was proud of her and I'm sorry. She said, “It’s okay.”  As I put her into bed she said, “Dad, people say animals can’t go to heaven, but we’re animals.  What do you think?”  I wish kids would give us a heads up for the big picture questions.  “Haley, I believe that God loves you and mom is up in heaven.  Why don’t you give them both a little prayer and tell them what you want.” 

Her head lying back down on the pillow, she let out one more thought before closing her eyes, “Yeah, maybe mom can make him understand me so when I get to heaven I can talk to him.”

I’m glad I didn’t sugarcoat this situation.  I was scared of how she would react and fear builds walls.  No bricks today and tomorrow we go get another guinea pig to bring us right back to being vulnerable for something bad to happen.   It's the only way to go.

Wall - Part 2

Last week, I wrote about seeing Roger Waters perform “The Wall” live at Wrigley Field.  A concept album released by Pink Floyd in the 1970s, Waters now is out on tour complete with a three-story wall that is built through the course of the concert.  While I kinda understood what “The Wall” was about, I really bought tickets to see rock and roll history at Wrigley Field.  I had no idea that this show – and now listening to the album over and over – would question and reflect on how I was mourning the loss of Lisa. 

Heading in to see this show, I would say I know about five songs from off the album. Never once did I equate any of them to my situation. Yet, it’s a 39 second lead-in track that made me stop and think how I was living my life. The title of this track is called “Empty Spaces” and these are the only words in it.

What shall we use to fill the empty spaces
Where we used to talk?
How should I fill the final places?
How should I complete the wall?

Empty spaces.  That’s what I was left with after Lisa died.  Plenty of empty spaces… Where we used to talk...  Before seeing this show, I never looked at it that way; wasn’t able to pinpoint the problem.  I had empty spaces that needed filling.  My time, conversations, memories trips, etc... These were going to have to be filled up.  How would I fill those empty spaces, what choices would I make, positive or destructive?

What moves me the most about this album is the concept of:  All in all it's just another brick in the wall.

I wish it were as simple as Lisa died and I built a wall around myself.  A wall built so quickly that it probably is not that stable and could be knocked down fairly easily.  But my wall was built brick by brick; placing each one to block another outside emotion from my vision.  Friends stopped talking to me?  Fine - more bricks on top of my wall - seems like the best way to deal with that loss of friendship.  But then came the day that those very friends started coming around trying communicate. I didn’t even want to reach back out to them, too many bricks blocking my feelings. These bricks I made with anger.  Mad my friends needed time to deal with what to do with me and the loss of my wife.  I lost perspective of the importance of human contact, I couldn’t see over my wall.

The wall was too high, as you can see.
No matter how he tried, he could not break free.
And the worms ate into his brain

My wall started the year Lisa and her mother were both dying of cancer in 2008 (Deena would pass away in April, Lisa in July).  Deena’s first ex-husband, who I never met, got wind of what was happening and flew in from Florida. “Are we happy with the doctors?” being one of the first comments he made to me. “We? Who are we?  I’m happy with the doctors”, I thought to myself, immediately throwing bricks on the ground to get something up fast. 

After 20 plus years of being out of sight, he was looking to integrate himself into the family. My daughters were still very young and they thought grandpa was Deena’s second ex-husband.  When I informed ex # 1 that now would not be the time to tell the girls “Oh by the way, this surprise visit is by your biological grandfather. Any other life changes I can throw your way?”   He was not happy and later hit me with, “Well, you’re the one blocking my grandchildren from me.”  I knew then the only way to get through handling the aspects of a mother-in-law and wife dying at the same time, in the same house (we moved in with Lisa’s mom 5 years prior to help with her cancer) was to turn off some of my emotions.

I knew there was a train of pain coming down the tracks.  If I was going to deal with this and survive, part of my personality would have to go away.  I had to keep moving, I had kids who were losing their mother, had a new baby coming less than three months away, and a wife who would die a few months after that.  I would have to change my personality to handle this; I would have to start building a wall if I was going to function.

Hello, is there anybody in there?

Come on, now, I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again.

I can't explain, you would not understand
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb 

 (Love that line from above, I can't explain, you would not understand. This is not how I am.)

Once Lisa passed, I was dealing with loss and trying to rejoin “normal” life activities. I felt like the kid at a prom without a date.  It amazes me how many adverse feelings we feel that can be traced to the simplest emotion, fear.  I was scared out of my mind about everything.  Can I keep going?  Can I raise my kids?  Can I live with myself for all the decisions I made during Lisa’s death?  So many questions about the future…

Mother, do you think they'll like this song?
Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?

Questions for which I didn’t know the answer, so the question that seemed like the best idea…

Mother, should I build the wall?

I specifically remember having that conversation with myself. I told myself that my life is simply one of function now.  I need to live for my children and I need to forget improving my life.  There is too much pain, too many memories, too many questions (fears) for me to try and live a fulfilling life.  No need to make new friends, no need to take classes to learn something new, no need to form new relationships.  The world can be a hurtful all-you-can-eat buffet and I’ve already had multiple plates of food.  I can function, but I will be miserable.  I even read up on Abraham Lincoln who was successful and yet led a miserable life.   Yes, this was a great idea!  I figured out how I was going to live my life…

Goodbye cruel world,
I'm leaving you today.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye, all you people,
There's nothing you can say
To make me change my mind.
Goodbye.

I found it easy to use the wall as a crutch and I was quick to put anyone or anything that seemed like a threat for me to experience feelings of an almost human nature. This will not do.

So up against my wall they would go…

There's one in the spotlight, he don't look right to me,
Get him up against the wall.
There's one smoking a joint!
And another with spots!
If I had my way,
I'd have all of you shot!

I’ve written in one of my previous blogs about the time period where I hated myself, beating myself up for not being a “good enough” parent or person.  I didn’t know it at the time, but my isolation was starting to wear on me, I was behind a wall and the worms (mental decay) were working its magic.

Sitting in a bunker here behind my wall
Waiting for the worms to come.
In perfect isolation here behind my wall
Waiting for the worms to come.

At some point I had enough and knew I was living an emotionally unhealthy lifestyle.  A mindset that is not sustainable.  This understanding might have helped me knock down a couple of bricks, but not enough for me to fully engage.  With my new realization came the fears and regrets of moving forward.  Did I lose my opportunity to move on?  Have I pushed away too many people?  Can I really start over at age 42 or am I too late…

There must be some mistake
I didn't mean to let them
Take away my soul.
Am I too old, is it too late?,
Will I remember the song?
The show must go on.

These thoughts held me back from fully committing to making a positive choice.  Do I really want to lose my best excuses for trying (trying) to get back into the world?  I know it didn’t mean I’m over the grief, but it meant I’d be vulnerable to getting hurt again.  It’s not an easy fence to straddle.  So there I sat at Wrigley Field, as one of the final songs called, “The Trail” blared in front of me.

The evidence before the court is incontrovertible
There's no need for the jury to retire.

Since, my friend, you have revealed your deepest fear
I sentence you to be exposed before your peers.
Tear down the wall!
Tear down the wall!

The judge is right.  No need for the jury to retire.  The wall has to come down.  It doesn’t work.  No matter how angry you are, how put-out you feel, how wronged you believe you’ve been treated, how maddening it is to watch happily married people, how pissed you are at what people say to you, how nobody else understands what you are dealing with… building a wall doesn’t work.  Sooner or later, the worms will come and mental isolation will take its toll.

For Pink, one of the first bricks he builds is when his dad dies overseas fighting in the war.  He wrote these lyrics and even though they might mean something different for him, when I heard them, it meant something else for me.  What Roger Waters sang was…

Daddy's flown across the ocean
Leaving just a memory.

Daddy, what d'ya leave behind for me?
All in all it was just a brick in the wall

What I heard was…

Lisa's gone to the great beyond
Leaving just a memory.

Lisa, what d'ya leave behind for me?

I sat up all night thinking of what Lisa left behind for me.  Not only three beautiful girls, but she left me with all the tools to keep going out there and putting myself in position to get hurt again with friends, family, and new relationships.  She wanted me to keep living, she wanted to me to keep failing and trying again.

It’s a very difficult and hurtful world out there and we are given plenty of bricks to build walls around ourselves.  I think I’ll take mine and make a patio to throw a party.  I’ll build a fireplace in the middle, a bar off to the right, seats in a circle, and no walls.  That way, people can enter from all sides.

Hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all.
Together we stand, divided we fall.

Wall - Part 1

When I was a kid, I always had a love/hate relationship with the two-parter episodes of Happy Days.  I could remember watching Fonzie about to jump across a line of buses and yet there was less than a minute left of the show.  “Oh my gosh, will this be one of those two-parters?” I would fret as Fonzie’s bike ran up the ramp and half way through his jump came the words

To be continued…

“Nooooo! I can’t wait another week, why didn’t they write a shorter version of this?"  Yet, when one would come on again, it was like a special treat (see episode #63 Fonzie Loves Pinky – Third Annual  Auto Demolition Derby).

So I am letting you know up front that this is a two-parter.  I went to see Roger Waters (former lead singer of Pink Floyd) perform the full version of The Wall at Wrigley Field.  The concert is performed more like a play and watching it had a profound effect on my mourning process. It made me question everything I’ve been doing since Lisa passed away.  It has changed the way I live my life.

I want to share this with everyone, but before I do, I want to do a cliff notes version of what The Wall is about.  Then next week, what it meant to me.  Most of you probably know about 5 songs from this album: Mother, Another Brick in the Wall, Hey You, Comfortable Numb, Young Lust.  But do you know these songs are all part of a story line?

The Wall is a concept album released in 1979 that traces the life of the fictional character, Pink Floyd, from his boyhood days in post World-War II England, to his self-imposed isolation as a rock star.

The concert itself starts with the edges of the walls already built

As the first act progresses, bricks of the wall are slowly built around him as events in his life unfolds:

Pink, at a young age, loses his father in the war
Daddy's flown across the ocean
Leaving just a memory.

Daddy, what d'ya leave behind for me?

All in all it was just a brick in the wall.

Has an abusive school master
No dark sarcasm in the classroom.

Teacher leave them kids alone,

Hey! Teacher! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it's just another brick in the wall.

A dominating mother
Mamma's gonna make all your nightmares come true.

Mamma's gonna put all of her fears into you.

Mamma's gonna keep you right here under her wing.
She won't let you fly, but she might let you sing.
Of course mama's gonna help build a wall.

And a broken marriage
What shall we use to fill the empty spaces
Where we used to talk?
How should I fill the final places?
How should I complete the wall? 

All of these events lead to more bricks in the wall until Pink bids farewell to the outside world and places the last brick in his mental wall.  On stage, the final brick put into place.

Goodbye cruel world,
I'm leaving you today.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye, all you people,
There's nothing you can say
To make me change my mind.
Goodbye.

The second act starts with a three-story high wall built across the entire stage.  The first song of the act “Hey You” is sung entirely behind the wall.  We sit in the audience hearing Roger sing but can see nothing but the wall.  For Roger, it symbolizes the disconnect he was feeling with the outside world.

Hey you, out there in the cold.

Getting lonely, getting old, can you feel me?

The wall was too high, as you can see.
No matter how he tried, he could not break free.
And the worms ate into his brain.

Hey you, out there beyond the wall,
Breaking bottles in the hall, can you help me?
Hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all.
Together we stand, divided we fall.

The toll of isolation starts to take its effect on Pink. In order to get through his daily life, he needs to medicate himself, so can function without feeling the pain.

Hello, is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?
Come on, now, I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again.
Relax, I'll need some information first.
Just the basic facts.
Can you show me where it hurts?

There is no pain you are receding.
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain, you would not understand
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.

Realizing he has dropped out of society and his bricks dragging him into further decay, he starts to wonder if he can perform like he was able to or is it too late.  He decides the show must go on.

There must be some mistake
I didn't mean to let them
Take away my soul.
Am I too old, is it too late?,
Will I remember the song?
The show must go on.

Pink spirals into insanity and imagines himself in concert as a fascist dictator demanding ultimate allegiance of his audience

So ya thought ya
Might like to go to the show.

We're gonna find out where you fans really stand.
There's one in the spotlight, he don't look right to me,
Get him up against the wall.
There's one smoking a joint!
And another with spots!
If I had my way,
I'd have all of you shot!

Pink’s new mind set has become so destructive that he waits for the decay to complete his isolation.

Sitting in a bunker here behind my wall
Waiting for the worms to come.
In perfect isolation here behind my wall
Waiting for the worms to come.

Pink finally has enough and puts himself on trail.  He replays all of his life’s events and questions himself on the way he acted with his family and friends.  He realizes that by isolating himself and building a wall, he has hurt the people in his life.  The judge he has created in his mind gives the final verdict.

The evidence before the court is incontrovertible
There's no need for the jury to retire.
In all my years of judging I have never heard before
Of someone more deserving of the full penalty of law.
The way you made them suffer,
Your exquisite wife and mother,
Fills me with the urge to defecate!
Since, my friend, you have revealed your deepest fear
I sentence you to be exposed before your peers.
Tear down the wall!
Tear down the wall!

Collapsing the wall and leaving Pink exposed to re-enter life once again.

Next Sunday, I will give my thoughts on why this concert changed me significantly a few years after Lisa passed away.

If you are a person who is moved by music, I suggest downloading The Wall, turning off the lights, and give a listen.  In the 70s, kids would get high to get better meaning out of this double album.  If you’re like me, all you need is your grief brain to delve deeper beyond the words.

Is there anybody out there?

To be continued…

Can I get an "Amen"

I’m driving to work last week and I’m going to be late. I’m running late, because it seems the chaos fairy came during breakfast and sprinkled dust all over my children. I only have a small window to get things ready for my mom to take care of what has to be done all day with the kids.  Once I walk out that door I won't see them again until after dinner time.  So on this morning, Shoes are hidden better than the Easter Eggs, Molly decides to change back into her pajamas, and the address to the party one of them is going to, is now missing.

As I sit at an extra long traffic light – extra long because all lights seem long when running late – I’m on the verge of a pity party bemoaning my life as an only parent, a lonely parent, an overwhelmed parent.

I stop myself from throwing that pity party. I remind myself that everyone has challenges in life. I’m not going to tell my boss I’m late because my life is difficult. I’m simply late. “Keep it to yourself,” I say, out loud.

But as the light turns green and I wait for the cars ahead of me to go – why won’t you go, you slow cars ahead of me – I think of my fellow widow and widower friends who also may be having a rough start to the day. They get it. They understand. As my car finally moves into traffic, I do decide to throw myself that pity party. In my mind, I have invited all of you who are feeling the same pain and logistical problems those who are married don’t have to deal with on a daily basis.

So for whatever it’s worth, I hear you. I feel your pain. And if you ever want to tell yourself that you do have more challenges than others and you too want your very own pity party, please invite me. Tell yourself, “My day sucks and Matt gets it. He hears me.”

Because every day I try to do my best to live by everyone else’s rules. I try and blend in with all the married couples and avoid discussions of the challenges of raising kids by myself. But some days I want to feel put out and I think of all of you. Screw it! We’re allowed to party every now and again. Wasn’t it the Beastie Boys who famously sang, “You have to fight, for your right, to pity paarrrty?”

"Happy" Father's Day

For me, it’s a reminder that I'm a parent raising children without my wife.

 For others, it’s a symbol that their children’s father is gone.

 For those without kids, it’s a reflection on what isn’t or what will now never be.

 For all of us, it’s a trigger that reminds us of our situation, another day that is awkward as it puts us out of place for a 24 hour period, another day where we don’t want to face questions from our kids or conversations with our relatives and friends, another day where people will tell me all day long to have a “Happy Father’s Day”.  A wish where I would love to respond, “It’s really not that happy for me as it’s not the same since my wife died.”  But knowing that response would draw a, “Look, dude, I’m just reading off the cue cards here.  The calendar is telling me today is a happy day for the fathers.  I really don’t have any interest in your true happiness, so just say ‘Thanks’, collect your change and leave my store.”

 The past few years I’ve been able to let the day fly under the radar without acknowledging too much my “special” day.  But now my kids are getting older and they too are able to read calendars and the calendar today is telling them today is my day to be happy – whether I want to be or not.

Mother’s Day is easier for me.  I can be sad and reflective as I release balloons into the air with my children, remembering my wife and their mother.  I can talk fondly of her throughout the day and tell the kids with a tear in my eye that she was a good mom and we will do our best to follow her love.

But today is about me.  Crap, I’m still alive which means the spotlight stays on me and my girls will be looking for me to show them how great of a day this is.  Switching that around and showing them this day sucks would only confuse them.  This year they have picked up on the Hallmark Holiday and my eldest has told me something is planned today.

 Okay.  Maybe I’m not ready to be happy today, but I am grateful.  I have beautiful daughters who are excited for me and want something good for me.  In their world, it’s as simple as, “Today is your day dad, so you must have been waiting for this for awhile.”

I think I will take this day and use it as an opportunity to let my children know how proud I am to be their father.  I’m going to go out and buy them each a Father’s Day card and hand it to them as they look at me like I read the calendar wrong.  But on the inside I will write a short note telling them that as a father, I couldn’t ask for better children, and how proud I am on this day with how they have dealt with the loss of their mom.  A day to check in to see how they are coping and give some positive reinforcements – have I done that lately?

 Happy Father’s Day?  Don’t think I’m there yet.  Proud Father’s Day?  I’m all in.