When you know what is coming...

At the end of this week, I will have to send two of my kiddos back for the up coming school year.  They are older now, and they know the life that they are returning to.  Sometimes, when you know what's coming it makes the days preceding departure harder.

I feel for my children. I ache for them. I grew up in a typical two parent family. My parents didn't get divorced, we had what could be described as a typical family.  My mother's death has brought about this shift.  It is as if she was this veil that covered the family. She bound us together and kept the moving parts moving.  Now that she's not here, some of the parts have stopped moving and the filter through which we as family viewed each other, well, it has been torn away.  In much the same way, I now see my family in a new light, my children see their parents as they truly are.  In some respects it is hard to watch the revelation come. It is difficult to see the naiveté give way to realism.

This summer has been one of revelation for my two of my children. They have seen the true colors of their parents come out.  Whereas in the in the past few years we have both put on a show so that we seemed to be the well adjusted divorced individual.  In the past few months, that thin veil of deceit got ripped to shreds. The hatred, anger and resentment that roiled just beneath the surface could not be held back anymore and it came roaring to the surface. The heat and force of it melted the veil.  This summer my children learned that some choices have life long consequences. They learned there is a thin line between love and hate.  They saw firsthand what the all consuming need to win at all cost can do to people.

I told my babies that I was sorry.  I was sorry for the innocence lost. I was sorry that they had to see what hatred was capable of doing. I also told them that I was not sorry that they were here.  No matter how ugly the fight became, no matter how much work he has done to devastate my life, I am not sorry that I have my children.  In writing this, I wonder if that is selfish on my part.  Having my children means that they had to experience loss in their young lives.

They have been very clingy in the last few days.  I know why and it is giving me anxiety.  The ex-husband has won this fight by illegal means.  To prove it would take resources I just don't have.  Consequently, we all have to learn to live with what he has done.  We have to live with the fact that I can't fight back anymore. In effect he has won the battle.  This knowledge is not new to me. I have carried the weight of this for six weeks now.  You see, while I was in Illinois caring for my dying mother, the ex-husband out maneuvered me by some illegal and deceptive means and won at this game called custody.  So this means that for another academic year, the kids will live elsewhere.

Those well meaning misunderstanding people on the periphery of my life will say things like, "well you still get to see the kids regularly..." or, "...at least your kids are alive..." another favorite, "...this is God's will...", "...he does have more money so they have a great life..." There is a reason these people are on the periphery of my life. At the moment, I can't take those platitudes.  I understand that they are attempting, albeit badly, at being hopeful and comforting. Nothing anyone says is going to soothe the hurt of the kids departure.  I would be better equipped for their departure if he would spend time with them. If he actually parented them.  But the reality is. to him the kids are just pawns in an ugly fight that he had to have.

I wish I could print this post out and hand it to people when they say weird things to me.  I want to be understood, but at times I don't care that I'm not.  I am so raw right now.  The ground beneath me feels slippery and resembles sinking sand.  I don't have the energy to care about much of anything beyond what I am dealing with.  I have lost "friends" because of this, and I will probably lose some more. That's really ok.  Right now I'm just trying to help my family prepare for and deal with what we know is coming.

Facing today

Sometimes making your mind up is half the battle.  I have chosen to make certain small decisions every day.  These activities are my goal posts.  I attempt to complete these two tasks every day, the rest is icing.

I know that two tasks seems so very simple.  In my current mind set, two tasks seems insurmountable some days.  I'm in this place and time where I have to take conscious care of myself. I have to do or not do the things where the end result is caring for myself.  One of the things that I have been able to accomplish every day is making my bed. My husband Dan will tell you that I have too many pillows on my bed. Well.... I make the bed with a lot of pillows anyway.  Making my bed has so many benefits.  The first one is that I feel this tangible connection and attachment to my mom in the process.  My mom loved to make the bed. She made her bed beautifully and so do I.  Another thing is that my friend Holly is the reason I have this gorgeous bed spread and accent pillows.  Holly is my friend that I run away to.  She is a safe place for me.  Seeing my bed reminds me that Holly exists and is only a phone call away.

The second goal post for the day is finishing a school related task every day.  This is the task that is at times insurmountable. I keep telling myself that I've come this far, I can't quit now.  The problem is that quitting seems so easy.  We will come back to that.

I have this friend in my life, his name is Michael. I've known him for about 20 years.  He was my small group leader at one time.  Michael is just my big brother.  I trust his take on scripture. I accept the words coming out of his mouth as truth. Michael is blunt. Sometimes blunt is needed even if not desired. The content of our last conversation was blunt, necessary and undesired. The bottom line of the conversation came down to context. I was challenged to look at the context of what I am dealing with.

So, what am I dealing with? I am dealing with an enemy that seeks to destroy me, and I don't just mean the spiritual one. I have a real life one.  I can't do anything about him. I can't change who he is, I can't change the results of decisions I made ages ago. While his actions do have an impact in my life, I need to look at those behaviors in context.  Realistically, aside from my emotions, is anyone being directly harmed? No.  Do I have the power to change the fact that he has been given the power to take and use what is so very dear to me? No.  What I do have power over is how I respond and react to what he is doing.  That for me is the difficulty, the rub.  I weep over what I have lost.  I weep over what I perceive as never coming to pass.  My friend Tammy reminds me regularly that while the kids are alive and walking around there is hope. Hope is in so very short supply right now.

I cut my hair. In that moment, I had control over that one decision and I took it.  I think it looks good. Yesterday, I cried. I wept. I missed my mom's lap. I wanted to put my head in her lap and feel the warmth of her hands on my head as I wept.  I loosed the ties around my heart and felt for those moments in time the pain and grief that I had been holding back so tightly.  This hurts. I want to skip this part. I don't want to feel and experience the pain.  There isn't any way through this. There is no relief route.  The road I'm on goes straight through.  What does that look like?

This road is long. From my vantage point I can't gauge it's distance.  In reality every day for the forceable future will hurt.  I can attempt to wall away my soul so as not to experience the pain so acutely. If I chose to do so, what am I teaching my children? For today I will stand on this road. I will take one step and put it in front of another and go as far as I can, and then I will take a break.  I will be honest about how I feel. I will acknowledge the pain and I will develop daily markers to gauge forward progression.  I will deal with today. My mom used to say, not to borrow trouble... I will do my very best.  I will carry on today.

Today, I will be strong. Today, I will make my bed. I will cherish my children. I will look in their faces and mannerisms and see my mom.  If necessary, I will cry.  I will not focus on what is coming.  I will work at being ok for today.

I'm aiming...

This is what the light at the end of the tunnel looks like to me.

a flower that defied the cold and bloomed anyway

A moment in time with my son Nate

A year ago...

A year ago I had no idea what was coming. I had no idea that I would enter a battle already lost. I had no idea that I would lose my mom. I had no idea how strong I could be.

I really miss my mom today. I miss her smile, her hugs, her laughter and her hands. I have her hands. I miss the fact that she would have loved to see my art.

I've been in class for the last two days. I had the opportunity to take an art journaling class taught by the famous Dyan Reaveley. My mom would have loved to see the results of what I learned. Yesterday was the best part, in my opinion, of the two days of classes. Yesterday focused on journaling. I have been trying to break through a wall when it comes to journaling. I hesitate a lot when it comes to putting my thoughts and feelings down. I'm afraid of what people will think if they see what I wrote. Yesterday in class Dyan took a sledge hammer to that wall. It was incredible! Who knew that an art class could be so therapeutic!

One of the things that Dyan did was she talked about her "skeletons." I realized in that moment something really powerful. By naming the things that she thought people would judge her for, she took their power away. She put everything out there and in doing so she set herself free.

I'm working on setting myself free. I miss my mom. I will miss my mom everyday for the rest of my natural life. I am setting myself free from other people's expectations, from other people's judgement. My grief process will take as long as it takes.  There will never be a time that I don't grieve my losses. The person that I was a year ago doesn't exist. There is no going back to who I was before. I have been irrevocably changed.

Mikey and mom - love that boy!

The first thing I gave her when I arrived

our hands

I miss you mom...