a dream emerging

ok I have got to put down some thoughts that have messed me up this week.  then i might have to do another post with my to do list blog list.  

but this one is important, it’s really flowing for me.  I’ve been flowing with my creative output this week.  It feels so damn good.  I miss my self. does that sound weird?   I miss my early childhood passion.  this week, something tapped into it and that also tapped into purpose.  what the hell am I going to do one day?  What am I going to do if I get a masters?  If I really go for the doctorate, then how am I going to make a difference.  

1.  if I have a Dr/phd beside my name, maybe they will listen more. 

2.  I have got to find more info on grief for children and in general.

3.  I have got to find more resources and TELL PEOPLE ABOUT THE RESOURCES.  

4. PEOPLE do not know what to do with grief.  maybe for grandmas, grandpa’s or older people but not for the younger crowds.

5.  media and computer has done wonders.  Facebook is wonderful for grief.  people are doing something with it!  bravo!

6.  I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world with a lot of brilliant people esp people who are good with people, and children and artists.  guess what we have camps galore but this amazing place that is healing to so many needs to lead the east coast and everywhere  in grief.  I want to do it.  I want to create a grief camp for families.  I want to help families.  I want a camp for momma’s daddys and children.  I want workshops, fun events, and healing.  I think of places in my head but not sure. I think of so many people in my head that should work it.  I watch other people make things happen and I think, I can do this.  I want people to know healing.  I want life is good here, I want play therapists, i want artists and musicians, i want clay, I want square dancing, i want concerts, I want to combine play and listening.  I want parents to make new memories but hear about ways to try and do other things.  I want children to hear other children know.  I want to do something.  It may be too soon for me.  but i’m going to do something one day.  

I think I’ll call it G camp.  

6 months

six months.

I saw it coming, it freaked me out.  I cried. I thought what, why, why why.  what?

six months of not seeing him.  Of not having a dad for our kids.  LET ME SAY IT AGAIN SO I CAN GET IT OUT, THIS ONE IS WHAT HURTS THE MOST. 


oh God, why did this happen?

We miss you so much John, so very much.  Everyday is a new day of learning how to get through grief and missing you.  Everyday is a challenge.  I hear about happy now and wish I could have that.  I appear happy at times, I still laugh a lot.  but I’ve never known hurt like this before and John knew I knew dark.

Strange though this week, I got busy on some things.  I caught up laundry.  I cleaned my desk, I rearranged the living room.  I went fly fishing.  I mowed the grass.  I wrote a school journal, I sent off my resume and heard I got a GA position for next year.  I made some progress.

the kids had field trips, Anna was sick but feeling better.  Our week at six months was busy.  Life moved on and yet, i miss your life. Our old life.  I miss your life.  I was picking up Kaegan last night and had to take Anna, Will was playing.  As I drove, I thought, John would have done this, he would have gone to pick up Kaegan and I could have sat at home and sipped wine and watched a movie.  He was always giving to me in one way or another.  simple ways and big ways.  He would have picked her up and he would have walked up to find her.  He would have talked more about the rides and laughed louder at her telling her stories.  He would have allowed Anna to crawl all over him.  He would have helped Will get interested in the video recorder I got him for Christmas.  I’m trying to be a mom and everything but I’m so in a fog so much of being overwhelmed and just grieving him.  I know I will come out slowly, I hear and read I will always miss him but I can’t wait for the day to have excitement and happy more often.  

Lately I have been thinking about how I can pass it on.  I find often as I search for resources for myself and the kids is that I have to dig and dig and dig.  I have to go and find them myself.  Not many days does someone drop off a resource.  It does happen but I found most of mine.  Asheville is a beautiful town.  Very very therapeutic I think.  I think it would be a lovely place to heal for a lot of people, especially children.  Grief camps are in big cities.  I don’t know why they are not here in mega camp world.  

When I can not feel so needy, maybe I can do something.  maybe I can be a leader in the grief world.  Maybe I can help others help others.   It’s like for my children, still no one says… hey, can we provide a service for you.  I had to ask the guidance counselor for her to check on Anna since she has asthma now.  She said sure, then she said, Can Anna be in our little group?  Well of course Anna can!  Why did you not ask me before I thought?  

What about Will?  Where is he in his grief?  I don’t know? 

What about Kaegan?  Where is she in her grief?  I don’t know?  

I have to explore this more with them.  

my neighborhood

I would move in a heartbeat to black mountain or somewhere that would give me more bedrooms and some quiet.  If someone said Montreat, I would believe in Hope again.  Anyway.  I remembered on Sunday why I can’t move.

Sunday I wrote about Easter, then we went to Montreat to see John as I say….  We stare at the creek where his ashes are.  I am thankful that I picked here.  it’s just perfect.  Then we went to the playground and played.  Or they played and I stared.  I sat in the seats we had sat in a year before.  I then walked over to another part and sat close to a loud part of the stream. wow.  The sound is just heaven.  John loved that sound too.  We both loved this place so much.  I sat and Watched Anna play and play.  We later were invited over for ice cream and visit and it turned into a whole other blog but let’s just say it was great.  my children belly laughed.  (note nice person was nice again and it involved his instruments)

Anyway we all came home and I looked at the thousands of things to do.  So I started to work on that some, I had a few phone calls.  I uploaded pics of our day.  The kids took off and went to play in the neighborhood.  about 10 min passed and I was still talking to my parents when Will ran in the house and said, Mom, we need you.  heart sink.  oh god.  

Anna is not breathing.  oh god.

I hang up with Dad and run out of the house.  I start asking Will questions, where is she?  I look and behind my neighbor’s house I see kids.  I look though and coming up the little road to my house is Sweet Charlie carrying Anna.  He is barefooted and running with her.  I look at her and she has yellow snot from her nose to her chest.  Bless Charlie’s heart.  bless his sweet heart.  I grab Anna and hear Charlie say his feet are going to bleed.  I look at here comes the neighborhood children running after them.  Ethan, Oliver, Kaegan, Hailey.   I asked Will, how did they get Anna to me.  He said Oliver carried Anna first then Charlie.  Honestly, this squeezed my heart so much.  2 of Will’s dearest friends, that Anna adored and drove crazy, took care of her.  I will never forget Charlie doing that.  I took Anna inside and did the breathing treatment thing.  and I remembered why I cannot move.  These dear children here have played together and have become friends, and our sweet neighborhood family.  ok kids, we won’t move.  I can’t take you away from these great kids. I think I need them too.  

Being Thankful when I I don’t feel hope.

Easter Sunday was whewwwwwww tough.  I did not want to proceed.  I was up during the night with the anxiety.  Then finally I was about to fall asleep when…. I hear footsteps.  “mom, Anna is sick, she can’t breathe.”  NOTHING TO GET A PARENT UP FASTER THAN CAN’T BREATHE.  But Anna does this sometimes.  She seems to get the croup cough easy and steam, calming down and a nebulizer have seemed to help.  We do our thing, and she was kinda sad.  Anna was up.  So thank God the Easter bunny had come, because all I had to do was say, hmmmm what about the bunny?  She happily found her basket and began to color.  I was in shock from exhaustion, grief, and going from 10 to 100 in less than 30 seconds.  Kaegan strolled in to examine her basket.  She got shocked awake too.  The girls looked at their basket and I sat and stared.  So many easters we have had sick kids.  Seems to be the season= allergies.  So I’m used to it but he is missing.  I wonder if John would have gotten up to watch the baskets.  Would we have taken turns to do the breathing thing?  Would he have let me sleep?  I don’t know.  but it hurts like a mother fucker to not have that choice and remember it. 

I finally said, Girls I have to get some sleep.  I fell asleep and slept until 8.  I wanted to stay in bed.  My brother texted his mega church link so I could watch mega church hope sermon on….. a single mom with 3 kids cause Dad died of cancer and the message of hope. I started to watch it but I gagged on the type of service.  (sorry Sean and Christie).  I finally got out of bed and wandered into the living room.  Wait a minute, Will’s basket was gone.  oh no, I missed it.  I missed Will seeing his basket.  Wow, I am a shitty mom.  I wandered into his room where he sat with his new headphones and playing a video game.  Will thanked me for his gifts.  that was good. but I missed it.  Kaegan started to get ready for church, I tried to not go.  

but mom.


We could not find Anna’s gorgeous Easter dress.  she had on something ok.  her white sandals were too tight.  She wore high heel patton leather shoes that I hate.  but whatever.  Will hated his preppy outfit my mom had picked out weeks ago.  I gave in and he wore jeans and  a nice shirt.  I wore black and a colored shirt.  

We drove.  We got there and it was packed.  I got anxious.  crap.  We could not find a seat.  I thought screw it.  I even said it out loud in front of everyone.  as we went out the door, a lady chased us.  Wait, wait, don’t go she said.  I looked at her and said, we are not going to be separated .  ok she said.  She found us seats 2nd row.  We got seated and sat and listened to the music.  

I am not kidding when I say this church’s choir is amazing.  They blow me away.  They make me happy.  

I immediately started to relax and say to my head, it’s ok, it’s ok.  Anna was wiggly and Will was leaning.  I looked across the aisle and there was my childhood friend and his entire family that I grew up with.  2nd row.  I kinda felt like I had family.  The service started and I was fine until the sermon.  then the hope talk.  the talk about grief and finding hope when there is no hope.  oh no… here it comes… little tear.   a pain in my right side of my back shoots whenever I try not to cry.  shooting pain.  then a couple of tears.  then just tears.  it’s ok, ash, just cry.  just cry, I can’t stop it.  I cannot stop the tears.  so I cried.  I wanted to buckle and wail.  but it was not ok. I could not get up and escape.  I had to hear it.  I had to hear the talk about hope and stuff.  it just hurt so much.  I’m so afraid of hope.  I have no hope.  Hope vanished when he died.  He took my dreams, my hope, my love, our love, our perfect kinda life.  

then the choir sang again.  oh oh  and the small group of brass instruments. ohhhh thank you.  Thank you Choir, thank you trombone.  Thank you baritone. Thank you trumpet.  thank you for being there.  Even my kids stared.  People giggled at us and our chairs that moved with every movement of Anna.  oh….. 

Church ended.  Thank you nice lady behind me, I’m sure you are wondering why I cried the whole time.  

no ring on my finger.  3 children.  

Thank you other lady for chasing after me to stay.

Thank you nice lady for saying hi and being excited to see me and saying let’s get together.  you also said you were not giving up.  thank you for not giving up on me. 

Thank  you Barrett.  Thank you.

We drove away.  I did it.  I did stupid Easter service.  

i’m thankful for music. 

It’s not fair

I am honestly getting tired of me being a fussy butt.  but I have to say this.  It’s not fair.  It’s not fair that people who have it made, are not happy.  It’s not fair.  A nice person who is very talented has decided to be nice to me.  He is kinda famous.  He was very very nice to do something very nice for my family.  Then he decided to keep being nice.  As you get to know a person, you get to know real.  You think they have it made and yet they have their own demons.  Instead I find I listen to this person that has it made, talk about how they suffer.  I have to pause often and think, really?  I am so thankful that he wants to keep being nice.  That’s why I like him.  Not just to me is he nice but to others.  He is bigger than life.  and it literally plagues him.  I get this.  i get the super duper sensitive people.  I’m one. but as I walked around his really nice rental that is out in the country, surrounded by beauty.  bedrooms that I need.  an assistant.  He has talent and his name that can move/get him things.  Yet he does not still know.  Yet he is plagued by depression or disease that makes him lay in a bed and ponder life.   I was jealous.  

why did John die?  why did he make the decision to make the life insurance go to the kids.  I know he would redo it if he knew but why John?  please please make it work out for us.  I have to live in the brick ranch and make the girls share a room and fight.  The girls don’t have a dad now.  I can’t change that.  Will does not have his best friend.  I can’t change that.  I stay in this brick ranch for one reason.  They are so happy to be near friends and that’s why i stay.  they like knowing friends in school.  i’m staying.  I’m quitting my job so I can be with them more.  I’m going to get rid of stress of work and just have happy school stress.  please please I hope i”m making the right decision.  I cry at night because no one can hold me anymore.  I eat because I have nothing to look good for.  Even when I was thinner, it did not matter.  I wake up because of the 3 people john and I made and I wanted them so bad.  we wanted them.  and he is gone.  my partner is gone.  it’s not fair.  

it’s not fair that other people get to live that are not half as good as John.  they get to live.  

It’s not fair that a person who has it made, still is not happy.  

It’s not fair he has a 4 bedroom house and it’s just him.  

It’s not fair. 

I knew one day my white house with a picket fence, mini van, good job, healthy kids would not last.  I knew something would happen one day. I knew my dream would crash.   

It’s not fair .  

I want a 4 bedroom house so my kids can not fight.  I want a stream.  I want mountain views.  I want that.  I want to be a genius so i can make it happen.  

I miss you John.  I’m so sorry.  

No grief group for me

Well.  I guess I’m a bad kid finally.  My whole life I usually followed the rules.  (ok maybe not all the rules in college)  I’ve been a good momma, I know I have.  I’m a pretty good worker.  I could have been a better wife.  How am I at grief?  I think I am AWESOME!  I bet I am the best griever.  Apparently though, when doing intake to be a part of a grief group, don’t mention the real amount you drink.  Don’t be honest.  because….. then……. you are not allowed to go to grief group.  

I noticed in my first grief intake, my “grief lady, felt the need to impart wisdom to me” about how to get through this.  (I know she is married still). She suggest to me, (the mother of 3 children in 3 schools) that every morning I should get up and walk and then also when I get home, I should walk.  hmmmmm…… I wonder how I should do this?  Get up at the crack of dawn and go in the dark?  Should I get home and tell my kids to suck it up and pretend they are not hungry so I can walk?  WTF grief lady?  Anyway those are the thoughts I had in my head.  All I said to her was … “Do you have children?”  she said she did.  I think she has one.  I goggled her to see if she was really something.

You see my grief lady has her masters in social work and had been a grief person for awhile.  SHE also happens to be married to a Death Doctor.  I’m sorry, I mean a hospice doctor.  So guess what they talk about at dinner. She does have cute dogs, in which I did talk to her about her dogs…

Anyway.  I talked to my REAL awesome super duper therapist and told her about my 1st meeting.  I told her I did not want to work with grief lady.  She said ok.  We talked about how pushy grief lady was and so my therapist decided she would call.  She mentioned later that the grief lady had called and they did chat.  Never did she say she agreed with grief lady.  She shared with grief lady that we were working on some issues.  I had asked my therapist to not tell her all my stuff.  She mostly asked about what they offer at the “grief place” so she would know more.  I felt ok, and thought well I’ll finish up my intake and see if I’ll get into grief group.

well…. not so much.

We did a few more grief questions about support and she seemed really pleased with my support network.  we smiled and laughed…. then she said we needed to do a grogram of my family, she seemed very excited about this.  She wanted to know everyone’s name and ages.  I did not know all of my 15 uncles and aunts ages memorized.  She seemed a bit miffed.  oh well, we plugged along.  Finally everyone was in their circles and squares on a paper with lines of support drawn.  Yeah for those family members…..!!! (they got a line) because they call and shit.  Others that don’t call or write or just sit there.. guess what mutha fuc8uH(P*HHO&*rs, you don’t get a line.  whoops I’m sorry that just slipped out.  I think grief lady put me over today.  anger… stage.  (that’s me being sarcastic).  Anywhoooooo all of a sudden grief lady says, well … who in your family has issues.  I would like to say, my family really did not mis behave that much, we have a few glitches but honestly, according the questions, we looked like the best family ever.  I was feeling really good about the genetics.  Then we got to alcohol .   She wanted to know how much I drank.  Well… grief lady, I told you last time and well I’m trying to back off.  Well that was not good enough.  She decided she should tell me I better get a hold of myself or i”m going to die.  Ok so she did not say it like that but ..

What infuriated me was that she judged.

She jumped to conclusions.  She said, I could die by mixing my drugs and alcohol.  I kinda sat up.  WHAT?

I said, “what drugs?”

She rolled her eyes and reached for my paper.  I asked her, “did you just roll your eyes?”  She said no, she was reaching for my paper.  She then told me that I was taking Ativan and mixing that with alcohol could be VERY VERY DANGEROUS and that I could even die from it.  I then said. immmm I don’t mix them. She then said, you can’t mix zomig with alcohol .  immmmm yeah, I don’t mix those either.  I told her I was already working with my doctor who knew what medications I was on, and I also had a therapist.  She then said she wanted to do an alcohol intake on me.  I said no.  I did not want anymore of her having any information.  She then said well, maybe we should end then, I said yes.  She said when I was ready, or better yet, when my therapist said I was ready then I could come back.   She wished me a nice day, I wished her one as well.  We walked out, and she wished me a good day again.  (ha, she did it twice cause she was nervous. )  She treated me like I was a bad girl.  I am a bad bad girl.  

I walked out calmly, got in my car and drove away.  I called my WONDErFUL SUPER DUPER therapist and left a voice mail telling her about my lovely intake that went wrong, realllllly really wrong.  Then I drove.  

As I drove I thought of the other things she said to me.  

She mentioned that I was headed down a road that was dangerous.  She said I could lose my children with my choices.  (I never ever told her anything except what I drank normally)  that’s all.  She said I might drink and drive.  She said I could lose my children.  

Why in the world would you say that to a widow that has 3 children, who is in grief, who is working, who watched their husband die, who is dealing with so much shit.  I said I drank wine at night and yes sometimes I have drank a bottle.  Suddenly with this information she decided that I was going to die or tell me I would lose my children.  

I drove.

you stupid bitch grief lady.  

As I drove, I turned red.  probably my blood pressure.  but since I don’t take my blood pressure medicine then that’s why.  My mom likes to tell me I better take care of myself or I’m going to have a stroke and then someone will have to wipe my behind.  Gosh I really love to be given the visuals.  Anyway.  I felt like shit.  wow.  I just got kicked out of the grief club.  wait.  no I was not excepted into the grief club because I drink wine at night.  If I had lied and said oh yeah I occasionally drink a glass or two then I would be in the club.  I was honest and therefore, I don’t  get support.  Does this not seem strange.  I am trying to find support for myself and I”m not ok for them.  She had her reasons. I hear her.  Or as I said, I hear what you are saying but I’m not in agreement.  

She did not like me.  She was very disappointed in me, I could read her body language, I could tell by the way she looked at me with her eyes.  I could tell how she wished me a good day twice accidentally.  

I drove

I thought , you know what bitch grief lady, I don’t need to drink.  I don’t.  it helps relax me.  i fall asleep without laying there staring and worrying and thinking about him on that gurney.  I don’t think about them pumping his chest.  I don’t think about him curled up on our bed begging me to take him to the ER, and I don’t feel the guilt I feel for not getting him there sooner.  I don’t think about Kaegan screaming and I could not stop her.  I had my arms around my other two children holding them.  

I drink wine.  I don’t drink bourbon anymore.  and I do like beer.

Am I going to be ok soon.  yes.  would I like support, yes.

but if I have to be around her and her judgement on how I should grieve then no thank you.

I think I’ll sip my glass of wine, walk when I can, and one day I’m going to fall asleep without wine.  one day I won’t think about having support.  

grief bitch lady,  I guess you did make me mad enough to empower my self again.  I will make a difference for someone else.  I will complain about you.  I will talk about how you pointed your finger at me.  How you rolled your eyes, how you told me I was going to die or lose my children.  I will complain.  We grief people don’t need your non grief knowing self to tell us what is best.  

I guess I’m not reading my daily bible verse and i’m drinking wine and i curse.  great just great, BUT I THINK I’M THE BEST GRIEF GIRL EVER!  

ok i feel better for letting that out.