The Fire

The other night I was excited to be watching a new episode of "Grey's Anatomy". As odd as it sounds, I always know something in the show will make me tear up, whether I can relate to it or not. It's almost like watching "Extreme Home Makeovers"....I always end up crying at the reveal.

Well this episode of "Grey's" was no exception, and I sat on my couch in my quiet living room with a few tears streaming down my face. It was not a water works show at Sea world, but enough to make me wipe my cheek.

At that moment I thought of the beginning of my journey without Michael. I remember screaming out loud, pounding my fists on the counters and just sobbing uncontrollably. It was the polar opposite of how I was this evening, with the silence as my companion and the warm droplets making their exits from my eyes.

It was through comparing these two moments that I realized how grief is so much like fire;
in the beginning our grief was an intense flickering blaze, but now, even though the flames have gone down, we still may get burnt by the embers.

I know this is a far distance from McSteamy, but I find solace in the smallest of my own self realization, for even when it may not always seem the brightest or happiest, it let's me know I am viewing the growth that underlines it all.

Wonderful Widows, What are you choosing?

Dear Wonderful Widow.

For the next 3 weekends, three performances per weekend, Anneke, my 15 year-old, will be playing the part of Wendy Darling in Peter Pan. Anneke is afraid of heights. Flying across the stage requires that she put a great deal of trust in the backstage crew who orchestrate her flying. This is not easy for her. Anneke has chosen to face her fear of heights in order to be able to do what she loves. Anneke is an actress.

We who are widows also make choices, many choices.

Remember when your friends said to you, “I don’t know how you do it?” (show up, be a mother, make dinner, go to work, breathe…)

And you thought to yourself, “What choice do I have?”

I am not comparing being Wendy Darling to widowhood. But like Anneke, we choose to show up. You might think you don’t have a choice, but you do. Every time you make dinner, check homework, every time you get out of bed, you are choosing.

We choose to show up, or we choose to shut down.

Around seven months after Mike died, I almost chose to shut down. I thought I was losing my mind. I felt on the edge of a precipice, and at any moment I might step over the edge and quit. Never in my life had I felt so close to insanity. I called my sister in Connecticut and asked her, if need be, would she take care Anneke on a temporary basis?

Daily I faced the choice of continuing or quitting. Thankfully, I did not end up needing my sister’s help. I chose to show up and gradually, very gradually, the choice between continuing and quitting became unnecessary as I began to recover for real. But I learned the meaning of deep fear and powerlessness and I stand in judgment of no one who chooses differently than I.

Yes, we do choose. Every widow who chooses to stay in reality and face her circumstances is a hero in every sense of the word. The choice is not always easy. But it is a choice.

Much Love to all of you Courageous Widows.

Mie Elmhirst, Widows Breathe Coaching

Take My Hand

I had sand all over my feet and the wind in my face. My eyes were closed as I stretched my arms out wide as I could and I balanced against the railing of the life guard tower. I held my palms up as if waiting... expecting David to take them, I almost felt as though he did. I took deep, careful breathes... I wanted David. I caught myself whispering, "Come get me... please... come get me." I meant those words with every cell in my body. Come get me. Rescue me. David. I let my mind dance around whatever memories volunteered themselves.

Once again, I remembered the night David and I watched a movie called, "The Village." In the movie, Ivy (a blind women), in time of distress, holds her hand out in front of her knowing that her love, Lucious, would come to take it. He'd rescue her. She knew he'd come and he knew she'd be waiting. Watching this, David turned to me and said, "I want to be that for you." I knew exactly what he meant. As I stood on the that tower and remembered his words, I couldn't help but smile. I felt warm and safe.

As I opened my eyes I was determined, once more, to continue this journey. There is an intense spiritual yearning between me and David that is strong enough to withstand the loneliness and ache of this world. Each morning as I wake up I hold out my hand for David to take it... for yet another day. Each day I survive I am more convinced then the previous that this life is still to be shared with David. I am more convinced of Love's strength and determination. David is holding my hand and running me through to the end. With nothing to hold him back...not this world, not his body nor time itself restrains David. So David's love, the life of his soul, is free to pour out. I believe David is active in my life... I believe his love pours out on me everyday... My love, my husband, will always be there to grab my hand with his.

Regrets?

     I've been thinking about regrets a lot lately.  Not about Jim and me.  No way.  He knew that he was seriously loved and adored ...... as did I.  I have no regrets about us and our marriage, other than it wasn't long enough ..... not by a long shot.

     This past weekend was our youngest child's (Son #3) Confirmation.  This was our first Confirmation without Jim.  I had been dreading it for a while, as had Son #3, I think.

It was a very difficult .... and yet good, day.

Many tears were shed.  And not just by me.

     But in preparing for this weekend I've been pondering the mother that I have become in my "after".  I am a totally different mother than I was in my "before".  And I regret that.

My older kids are in college and so were really mostly raised when Jim died.  Our youngest was 13, now 14.  He had one mother for 13 years ..... and now he has a different one.

I have changed in many ways.  Some ways are for the better ..... some are not.

     I regret that he rarely has a home-cooked meal because I could care less about cooking now (as can he).  Actually, I could care less about eating ..... and have to sometimes remind myself that I haven't eaten all day and it would really be best if I did.

     Jim was a great eater and was always thankful for whatever I made for dinner ..... even if was soup and sandwiches.  My children, a couple in particular, have not been so laid back.

Son #3 is a picky eater.  

My enjoyment of cooking waned over the years .... and I totally blame my 6 kids.  Can I tell you what a hassle it is to come up with a new recipe, and then have to double it for 8 people, only to have just 2 people like it?  That's a lot of wasted food.

And a huge drain for the joy of cooking.

     But, if Jim were still alive, I would still be cooking.

But he's not ...... and I am not.

And so .... in my eyes ..... I am a bad mom.

     I know, with my brain, that I am here in other ways for Son #3, but my heart is mourning the person that I was ..... "before".  And it mourns the mom I was ..... "before".

     I have no doubt that I am a more patient and compassionate mother now.  I tend to let the small things slide a whole lot more than I did "before".  I'm not sure if it's because I know they don't matter so much ..... or if it's just that I don't have the energy I had 16 months ago.  Probably a combination of both.

     Yes, I went to every football game this year, and yes .... I went to every track meet.  So that was good.

Why is it so hard for us to see the good and claim it?  We so often see one bad thing (like not cooking) and then label ourselves with that one item.  

I wonder .... is that more of a female thing ---- or do we all do that?

     So .... I have a few regrets.  But I also know that, while Son #3 has lost out in some ways by losing his "before mom" ...... he has also gained in having his "after mom".  

This mom knows what's important now.  And more importantly .... what isn't.

She knows that life is fragile ..... and that time spent with someone is a precious thing.

She knows that you can never say, nor hear, "I love you" too many times.

She knows that time spent with someone is never wasted.

She knows that when something, or someone, catches your attention ...... you stop and look into it.  You investigate and spend some energy and time figuring out why that thing/or person, has caught your attention.

She knows that you can never have too many friends, or too much love, in your life.

     So yes .... I regret the loss of the "before mom" .... but I also am proud of the "after mom" .... and all that she has learned in the last 16 months.

     So maybe .... just maybe ..... my regrets do not outweigh my thankfulness.

And that, my friends ...... is something.

                              This is Daughter #2, Son #1, Son #3, me and Daughter #3, this past Sunday on Son #3's Confirmation Day:

Embracing Life

I'm in Bloomington Illinois today to watch Michele, my WSM (love that Taryn!), receive one of the 2009 Embrace Life Awards presented each year by State Farm Insurance. The program recognizes people who have suffered the loss of a loved one and tried to make it into something positive. Obviously, Michele fits the bill perfectly.

The recipients varied from young adults suffering the loss of parents, to young widows and widowers, to older widows, all of whom have managed to make margaritas out of the limes served to them by life. It was an amazing awards ceremony, and I met some truly inspiring people. What a great way to start out a week. You can read about Michele and the other recipients on the State Farm website.

Congratulations Michele. The work you do will benefit so many, and the way you do it inspires all you touch. Love you Tacalla, and so happy to be along for the ride.

Happy Tuesday everyone!

Unimaginable

My life path has never included poverty. Or prejudice. Or destitution. Or the feeling that my current life position was all I could ever expect. Overall, I have been greatly blessed. I live in a country where widows are able to inherit, own property, pursue a career, and manage their own affairs. Though prior to my introduction to the global state of widowhood, the concept of not having these privileges would never have occurred to me.

As I have grown as a woman, and as a widow, I have come to learn that here in America we have the luxury to grieve the men we love when they die. In other countries women without husbands are targets, thought of as bad luck, shunned from all social gatherings, shuttled from home to home, married to or made the concubine of their brother-in-laws, constantly concerned about how to feed their children, unable to be viewed in public, and in some countries if they do remarry they are required to give their children to their former husbands family. The challenges of widowhood in the homelands of our sister widows are daunting at best. Imagine the way you felt when you realized your husband was dead, then follow that immediately with the thought that someone may be coming for your children in a few moments. Or that your home will immediately belong to another family. Or that your head will be shaved, jewelry removed, and your dress exchanged for a white funeral shroud. To add this misery to the searing pain of losing your husband is beyond my imagining.

Learning about the lives of widows in India, Africa, Afghanistan, Iraq, and other countries has radically affected the way I view my own widow journey. Now I know life could be much worse...even in my darkest moments I was never in danger of losing my kids. This change in perspective has made me both grateful for my homeland, and determined to help my sister widows in some way. To begin work on this goal we will be discussing the condition of global widowhood at the National Conference on Widowhood in July of 2009. We will welcome representatives from six different countries to begin to build a network of support for widows around the world. Five American dollars can go a long way in a place where families survive on pennies a day. We can make a difference for women who don't have time to grieve the loss of the man they love...that is a luxury so many of them cannot afford. Join us in July to find out how. For more information visit http://www.sslf.org/. Our hearts can stretch a very long way, let's make a difference together.

Why We Relay

This weekend was the Central Austin Relay for Life. This is the fourth year that Team Dippel has competed, and the fourth year that we have been in the top five fund raising teams on the day of the relay. Our team is made up of family and friends, all of whom have been touched by cancer, most of us in more than just one way.

The question of the night is usually, why do you Relay? For those who participate in the event each year, it is more than why do you do this each year, it is really who are you doing this for? Everyone there has been touched by cancer in some way and has an emotional attachment to the event. My reason to relay is solitary. I have numerous family members who have had cancer, but I was so young when they were affected that I didn't associate the loss with cancer specifically. About five years ago that changed.

When Daniel was diagnosed with cancer we were filled with fear, but were so optimistic. He was young and strong and healthy...of course he would survive. The problem with that pespective is this: his cancer was young and strong too. Daniel never did anything halfway in his entire life. Apparently his cancer had the same fortitude, and in the end cancer prevailed. I have an enduring hatred for this horrible disease that takes too much.

My reason to relay is to fight back in a way that I feel shows results. I feel less powerless knowing that I am doing something, anything to help, and each year I am thankful that I participated. The luminaria portion of the relay is my favorite part, and also one of the more difficult moments. The lights are turned off, the night is dark and quiet. One by one the lights in the luminaria bags are lit, and bag pipes play "Amazing Grace" into the softly illuminated darkness. Everyone walks the track in silence. In my head, I see flashed memories of Daniel, and my heart breaks a hundred times over. Around me in the silence, hundreds of people experience their own memories, and the air is tense with emotion. It is a wonderful, painful, awesome experience.

Thanks to the members of Team Dippel for doing it each year, and thanks to all who make donations to support our efforts. Team Dippel, doing everything we can to kick cancer's a$$ in memory of Daniel Dippel.