Dear Brian,

I am thinking of you and Paxton a lot today for some reason.  It has been a sad day today.  I saw a movie that had a baby that looked so much like Paxton.  Even had on a shirt identical to one that he wore a lot and he was the same age.  I still see you both everywhere.  I  catch myself looking for both of you in crowds and sometimes when I see babies that remind me of Paxton I want to just stay close to them and soak in their sweetness.  Sometimes in stores I follow their moms down a few aisles just so I can see him a little longer and feel him close to me again.  

I've set Sunday afternoons aside as the time I give myself  to cry.  Dad watches the race downstairs and I have some private time to myself.  So that I don't "break" in front of people or in public anymore I designated a day when I know I can be alone and I come in the office and I can miss you both all I want and out loud if I need to.  I allow myself time to just sit with my grief, cry and be sad. And sometimes I just sit here and think of things I remember because I want to keep you both fresh in my mind.  I had you a long time but Paxton has been gone way longer than the two years and eight month that I had him so I am so afraid that I will forget.  Not him, of course but the essence of him.  His silent sweetness, his funny little ways, our little games and how much they amused him, his first words, the sound of his voice and the "baby" way he pronounced words. That sweet baby smell, his giggle, what he felt like snuggled up to me asleep.  Little sweet or funny things he did like pretending to sneeze when he was so little and laughing when I said "Bless You!" because he knew it was a joke.  And how we used to play hide and seek and he'd lead me to the linen closet and shut me in and then pretend to look for me until he would open the door and "find" me right where he'd left me.  

These are the precious things that I never want to lose but I am so afraid that I will.  

I know there were a million little things that you all did or said that I was sure I'd never forget - but I did.  So I know its possible and so I try to remember all the little details that I can so that they will stay fresh in my memory and he will stay alive in my heart.  

So today is Saturday --not my day and yet I'm sad and grieving fiercely today. Not sure what's up with that unless it is the baby in the movie. 

Sometimes those little coincidences, like dreams, seem like little gifts from God.  Little snippets of you or Paxton that I find in crowds or in movies that give me a little private visit from you. I will take them.  And I am thankful to God for them even if they do make me sad afterwards.

I think lately about how everyday I'm a little closer to being with you all again.  Until then I will see you in my dreams or at the mall or in the babies I see on movies and I will think of you all and miss you still everyday.

 

Small Snippets

I dreamed about the baby last night--something I always wish I could do.  Then when I do I'm sad and weepy for days afterwards. But I also remember how sweet and precious it was to get to be with him for even that little while.  And still it's worth it to me. 

It wasn't much of a dream really only spanned probably less than two minutes time but enough to bring to life those overwhelming feelings of deep, deep love like I felt in the dream I had before he was even conceived.  He was younger in the dream maybe 18 months old and was standing in a baby bed.  Music was playing and he was "singing" along loudly.  No words.  But like he really used to do - just baby jibber-jabber but in perfect tune and with the correct inflections.  He was amazing in that.  He loved sounds, voice pitches, conversation inflections and music of all types and though he didn't hardly even talk at almost three he was never shy and always very vocal. 

In the dream he was singing along with the music and then he quit and I was trying to encourage him to keep singing because it was so sweet and I was pantomiming the words to to him to try and get him to start singing again and he watched me a minute and instead of singing with the music like he had been doing he laughed and started pantomiming back at me.  It was so funny and so just exactly like something he would do.  And that was all that I remember of the dream.  I've been so afraid of forgetting --not him, but the little details of who he was.  It felt good to know that I had not forgotten his essence, his quirky little personality traits that were so uniquely him.  And good to realize that my heart remembered that deep, deep love I felt for him.  It was so good to see him and be with him even for that little while and feel that love even if I will pay for it for days with the overwhelming sadness that will provoke. 

It has made today very hard but still it was such a gift.  I don't dream of any of them often - not often enough but even less of him and I hate that but I guess in God's infinite wisdom, He knows it would keep me deep in the darkness, living in the past with less motivation to move forward. 

 I only had him for two years and eight months.  It is so hard to believe that a child could carve such a deep rut in my heart after such a short time so that even after five years I look at his pictures and still cry.  I find it hard to believe that after only Two and a half years with him that the thoughts of him still dominate so much of my every day or that the pain of losing him could still be this raw.

Fifty eight years I had lived without ever knowing him and I've now been without him five more; twice as long as I had him.  Two and a half years short years is such a small percentage of 66 years and logically I don't even see how 2 and 1/2 years could impact my life in such a way.

I love and miss you my little man.  Always. Always.
  

Some days...

Today is one of those days when just walking by my computer sets the tone for my day.  The screensaver picture is one I took of Paxton up at our barn sitting on a log.  They are all precious.

I would sometimes just follow him around with the camera and let him be "him"; running, playing, climbing, throwing leaves up in the air --whatever he found to do while I snapped away.  The hundreds and hundreds of pictures of him that I took in the few short years that we had him can attest to that.  I've never done that.  I realize now what a gift that was that I did as they now are all I have.

Some days it is still so hard; so painful and so raw.  Other days - I'm visibly better.   Some days these memories are treasures that make me smile and I could just sit and flip through hundreds of them at a sitting.  Today, they are treasures that do just the opposite.  I want to turn away quickly because they hurt with a fresh, deep, agonizing, physically painful hurt.  Just walking by them made me burst into tears. 

Best to do on days like this? Focus on helping others.  It helps me.  It helps "me" way more than it helps them. I find I desperately need to stay busy and keep my mind occupied and off of the sadness which at any given moment without warning can totally ambush me and sidetrack my entire day.  And I still need my time to cry but at least most of the time I am able to control when and where I cry --so that is an improvement.

I am so glad I naively did not realize I could still be "here" over four years later.  In many ways, as impossible as it seems, it is actually worse.  I do wonder when it will stop getting worse.  That news alone would have been more than I could have overcome in the beginning.  

One day at a time.  One step at a time.  One ambush at a time.

Today is not a good day but tomorrow will be better.

August

Birthdays, I think, are the hardest.  Yesterday would have been Kara's 33rd.  At least half of this month of August has been so difficult and I feel like I have really taken a major leap backwards and birthdays have played a large part in that.


The 16th - the date that I gave Kara her early birthday present because I had been unable to come home much with my sister sick and was afraid I would miss her birthday.  I never-ever give anyone their birthday or Christmas presents early.  Guess we now know why I was lead to make an exception this year.


The 18th - the date of the last video that Kara's made of Paxton and sent to me.  She also sent one to her mom.  Mine was of Paxton saying:  "Hey Nana, I love you."  Nancy's said: "Hey Me-ma, I love you."


The 22nd - Kara's mom's birthday and the last time she ever heard her daughter's voice and just hours before their deaths.  Her birthday will never be a happy occasion of celebration again.


The 23rd - the actual day they died but forever noted incorrectly because they were not found until the 24th. 


The 24th - the day that changed all of our lives forever.  The worst day in all of our lives up to that day.  The day that changed what we would have as a future but it also because of what the police said happened even made us question our past.  If that was true then nothing else we had ever known was true.  That day made us all question everything we knew, everything we believed in and everything we could ever hope for.


The 25th - Brian's oldest son's birthday.  It was his twenty third and it was the one that would change every birthday from now on because "this" would dominate.  "This" would mar.  "This" would be all he would ever think about for every birthday now forever.


The 31st - Kara's birthday.  It would have been her 30th.  A birthday she was looking forward to and dreading but would never see.  And now forever for her family they can never think of her birthday that the anniversary of her death does not loom over it.


I pray for peace for all of us as August is once again in the rear-view mirror thank goodness.

Not The Same...

Well it was a good thing I had that experience with my co-worker about the loss of her dog last week as I had time to think of a calmer and more appropriate response because believe it or not, within four days a second co-worker actually finished that sentence to me...  

Believe me, I understand completely that people love their dogs.  I love my dog.  I love all dogs.  All animals period.  I cried for days over a little wild bird that drowned in our lake as well as a possum that was hit on the road.  I have dragged home and/or rescued more animals than most people would ever have in a lifetime and not just your run of the mill stray dog either.  Pregnant cats --and I spent weeks taming the wild kittens, had the females spayed, found homes for all but one (and I still have her!)  And I have had ferrets, skunks, raccoons, birds, rabbits, rats, mice, guinea pigs, chickens, ducks, geese, hamsters, turtles, frogs and even snakes and I will patiently chase a lizard for an hour that has gotten trapped on my screened porch just so I can free him and also do the same for a cricket lost in my house.  Suffice it to say I love animals.   

And I know people have a tendency to make that comparison and say that losing their dog is as bad as losing a child - and apparently they say it a lot more than I ever realized.  And don't get me wrong, love your dog.  Please love your dog.  I love my dog but make no mistake that losing a dog is absolutely NOT the same as losing a child!  It is NOT "just as bad".  It is NOT in any way to be compared.  Trust me you do not have any idea what you are saying or how you are rubbing salt into a horrific wound that already will never heal when you say that to someone that has lost a child and for the record, you do not have any idea who that may be.   

I have learned since losing my children - that there were a lot of people that I thought I knew fairly well that I never knew had lost a child.  Friends, in-laws, neighbors, co-workers and business acquaintances - people that you come into contact with every single day in all walks of life.  It might be that when you say losing your dog is the same as losing a child in casual conversation to the realtor that is helping you find a house - that she watched her 12-year old daughter suffer and then lose her horrific battle with cancer.  Or that when you say it to the counselor in the student center of your college - that she lost her handsome and talented 21-year old son to a drug overdose. Or to the person that delivers your mail as she still struggles with guilt and still blames herself over her 16-year old son's suicide.  Or that your librarian lost her beautiful brown-eyed four-year old daughter to a freak accident in her own front yard.  Or that the sweet lady that takes care of your child in the daycare everyday lost her beautiful daughter and her only grandchild to murder... Not the same.  I promise you.  It is so not. 

And this time I did respond.  I did not run away in tears or get mad and lash out.  I simply looked her straight in the eyes and quietly said, "It's really not.  It really is not the same."

Strange happenings

There have been several strange things that have happened since the loss of the kids.  I’m not exactly sure what to make of them but I wanted to record them here and you can take them however you wish. 

The Clock:

About a month before they died the clock in Paxton’s room quit running.  Naturally I assumed it was a dead battery and made a note to get batteries for the clock. 

During this time, my sister moved in with us and my life became very hectic --I never bought the batteries. And the clock remained stopped.  No big deal.  I have no less than ten other clocks.  And Paxton could not tell time.

Sometime, in September “after” the loss of the kids I walked by his room and noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. I stopped looked in and the pendulum on the clock was swinging.  I assumed my husband had replaced the batteries until I looked at the clock closer and realized it was not actually running.  The time was stopped on 4:22.  I have already noted in a previous post that the morning of their death I awoke from a sound sleep at 4:00 am and burst into tears for no known reason.  I sat upright in bed – crying and praying for all of my children (and I always consider my grandchildren as my children too) and my sister, currently in the hospital and then lay back down and went right back to sleep. 

Later I asked if he had replaced the batteries or started the pendulum.  He said he had not.  That would mean that a completely stopped pendulum started itself on a clock that was not running and had a dead battery for several months prior...

I walked over and stopped the pendulum.  And again, I made a mental note to pick up the batteries for the clock.  I noticed the time was still at 4:22 and since I was still waking up every morning at 4:00 on the dot it kind of stuck in my mind – that too seemed slightly weird.  I left the room to finish what I was doing.  I decided someone that had slept in there during the time of the Memorial Service must have started the pendulum and I had just not noticed until now. However, twenty minutes later I headed down the hall a second time, glanced in the room and the pendulum was swinging again!  The clock had been stopped for over a month.  The batteries had not been replaced.  And now a second time the pendulum had started itself swinging.  That was September.  This is March.  It is still swinging.  The clock is still stopped on 4:22 and I have still not replaced the batteries.

The Phone Call:

I have for some reason been saying since the loss that I just wish I could hear Brian’s voice again.  I really don’t know why that?  Not see his face or talk to him but hear his voice and I bet I have said it twenty times.  I guess because I was the last one to talk to him and just keep regretting letting him off the phone so quickly. 

Ever notice how everyone has a certain way of beginning a conversation on the phone?  

Brian’s was always the same.   He generally called on Sunday afternoons to run by for a quick visit or because we had the baby and he was coming by to pick him up

Brian - “Hey, what are y’all doing?  How long you going to be home.  Thought we’d come by for a minute.”

Always the same. 

My mother – “What’s going on?”

My daughter – “Hey. What cha doing?”

My oldest son – “Hey.”

My oldest grandson  - “Hey Nana, what’s going on?

One Sunday afternoon at home I had cried literally all day long and all I could think of was how I would never be able to hear Brian’s voice again.  I just kept saying how I wish I could just hear him one more time.  About an hour before we were set to leave to come back to the rental house in the city my phone rang.  It came from a number that was familiar to me but I did not “know” it and nothing came up on the caller ID.  When I answered the very familiar voice says:

“Hey, what are y’all doing?  How long you going to be home.  Thought we’d come by for a minute.”

–Familiar number; Brian’s words --Brian's voice? 

I almost fainted.  I literally screamed into the phone like a crazy person – “WHO IS THIS!” 

“It’s me Nana --What’s wrong?” 

My oldest grandson.  I can’t tell him.  I can’t even talk.  My knees go weak and I burst into tears.  I need to sit down.  I had never noticed his voice and Brian’s ever sounding alike and never had he began a conversation with these words…

The Phone Assistant:

I finally broke down and got my new phone as my old one would no longer hold a charge.  I had gotten all the pictures off and they assured me that the texts would all be saved and come over on the new phone.  This phone has SIRI.  My old one did not.  I am not familiar with that feature and did not even know how to activate it – intentionally.  However, in trying to check email my finger lingered on the home key a little too long and up pops SIRI. 

“What can I help you with?”

So deciding to explore this feature I let it go on.  SIRI begins to type suggestions for me.

“Some things you can ask me:” pops up on the screen.

“Where can I get coffee near me?”

“When is my next meeting?”

“Are we there yet?”

“Call Brian?”

DO WHAT?!  Did this thing really say that?

I check again as pages of suggestions continue. 

Where is Brian?

And the clincher…”Text Brian that I am on my way…”

Really? 

SIRI - Could we just sit down and talk?  Finally someone has answers?  I have a multitude of questions concerning Brian that I’d like to ask.  Could we have coffee or lunch?  Could you just tell me please what on earth is going on and what really happened? 

Sweet memories of my funny baby

Paxton in the bathroom vanity cabinet
after he carefully moved all of Kara's
things to the floor so he would fit



Paxton hiding in the night stand on top
of books and binders

I'm in serious need of a new phone after mine took a dive off the hood of my car and had been run over by several cars before we retrieved it.     Sounds simple enough but I’m terrified I will lose some of Kara or Brian’s messages when I switch so I‘ve been going through them to make sure I have all pictures and videos saved.  In doing so, I have found where Kara would frequently text me the latest picture of Paxton “hiding”.  He loved to hide and play in weird places.

Paxton Playing in the bottom drawer of the stove

Almost too big now and he has
brought his big teddy bear
and favorite fuzzy blue blanket

And my favorite Christmas gift!

He has hidden in the nightstand on top of books and binders at just 15 months old.  It appears that he is crawling in there to sleep.  One of the first hiding pictures she sent was of him hiding in his bookcase he had not yet even started walking and he walked at 8 months old.  I put my favorite childhood poem with it called - what else but… “I’m hiding” and framed one for Kara and both grandmothers.  And the last one I ever received of him hiding was him in the kitchen cabinet with his teddy.

Wearing Daddy's clothes
and shoes.  He told Kara
"I daddy."

He also loved to play pretend.  I have the funniest video of him holding a stick of firewood using it like a cane and walking bent over and slow as Kara tells him to show Nana how to “walk like an old man!”  There is also one where he is “camping out” in the living room after he dragged all of his bed covers and his pillow and made himself a bed on top of the coffee table.  I have a video of him running wild through the house in a dragon costume he refused to take off --two weeks after Halloween.   And he was not opposed to wearing his Papa’s old farm hat and green nail polish!

Paxton trying out Mama's
new Michael Kors Flip Flops
I'd bought her for her 30th birthday

Rocking the red heels!

Trying on hats in Charming Charlie's

Can't decide which color lip gloss
goes with his T-shirt

Life lessons about love...

As I've said before, I had dreamed about Paxton before he was even conceived.  When we did not even think Kara could ever carry a baby, I dreamed of seeing and loving him.  Loving him so much it was like no love I’d ever known.  When I awoke I “knew” he was real.  He was not a child I’d just had a dream about – I knew he was going to "be"--in fact, already was.  My love for him was real and I knew absolutely that he was real.

I felt he’d been sent to me by God in that dream and he would be sent to me in real life too.  And because of that I had complete faith in that message and felt secure in loving him with complete abandon. 

Up to then, I was very guarded about how much I allowed myself to let go and love someone else’s child.  I’d been torn apart in the past loving children that had been snatched away from me leaving me devastated and broken.  Not once but three times.  I vowed I would never allow myself to completely fall in love with a child that belonged to someone else like that again.   But because of that dream and only because of that dream I felt safe to love him freely and give my heart over to him.  I felt he was sent to us and I felt that was my promise that he would be safe to love without fear that he would be taken away from me.  Then on August 23^rd that promise was broken in the worst imaginable way as he was most certainly taken from me in the cruelest and most permanent way. 

I felt betrayed and devastated on so many levels. 

At first I was angry and confused railing at God that it would have been better to have never had him at all than to have loved that deeply and lost him so cruelly.

But I was wrong.

I would rather have had him and known that love for even that short amount of time than to have missed that love or to have missed one minute with him.

And the strangest thing is that it was my love flowing to him and not necessarily his to me that was so powerful and profound.  It was no secret he loved his Mama and his Daddy much more than he did me.  He loved me but he’d throw me over in a minute for either of them.  Unlike my first granddaughter – she preferred me over anyone.  She cried for me, clung to me and never wanted to go home when she was his age.  He was never like that.  When either of his parents were present he would not let me so much as hold him – so afraid, he was that they would slip off and leave him behind.  He enjoyed himself and had a great time once they were 10 minutes gone but he always cried for them and had the choice been his --he never would have stayed.

If I could know and love a child that had not even been conceived; then I can love that same child after he has left this world.  if he existed before he was ever born then it would also be true that he exists still today.  I loved him before he was born.  I loved him while he was here.  And I love him now.  I feel it when I see his pictures.  I feel it when I watch his videos.  I didn’t "used" to love him.  I still love him.  I will always love him. 

I think we tend to believe it is receiving love that makes us happy.  But what loving him taught me was that you can be deliriously happy in the love that you have for others because it truly never mattered to me whether he loved me or not.  My joy was in loving him. 

Like we are with our own children, you love them even when they are angry, belligerent, or in trouble and you love them whether they love you back or not. 

As I thought about that I realized the bigger picture as it relates to God’s love for us too.  He loves us unconditionally but like our own children we really don’t think about it or appreciate it in the beginning.  It is only when we choose to love Him back that we really experience the true meaning and magnitude of God’s love.  It is only when we give love that we truly begin to experience the true joy of love. 

Things grief has taught me...

I know it is difficult to know what to say especially to someone in our situation and although we have had so many friends, church members, neighbors and co-workers that have been so thoughtful and so kind – we have also been shocked and surprised that most of the time, the care and concern we have received has been from people we either barely knew or did not know at all and then equally surprised at so little care and concern from some of the people we would have thought of as those friends closest to us or those that have been a part of our lives for years.

I have had sweet and thoughtful cards, calls, texts and emails, gifts, meals and donations to the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society  -- from such surprise sources as: my retired mail carrier, a girl in a resource department on my job, my new boss, the real estate agent we purchased a house through several years ago, my ex-daughter in law (divorced over 20 years ago), a neighbor from 25 years ago, our receptionist at work, an ex-co-worker that left the company almost two years ago, a young man new to our company that I only worked with about two months, the lady that replaced me when I changed jobs, the receptionist from another company located on the same floor as ours, my daughter’s Sabbath School class (not the same church or denomination as me), my sister’s best friend, my sister’s pastors mother. 

But sometimes those that you thought were your closest friends seem kind of freaked out and just don’t know what to say or how to act and so they simply avoid you.  This is a time when your emotions are so raw and you are so overly sensitive that friendships can be forged through the simplest act of care and concern or forever broken for the lack of it.

You really need not say or do a lot – sometimes just showing up is more than enough.  A hug and a simple “I’m so sorry” is perfect.  I could never have imagined what a simple card in the mail could do to lift your spirits. There have literally been days when a simple card in the mail actually made the difference between life and death at that moment.  You really may never realize what such a small gesture can mean to someone that is hurting.  A quick phone call with “Hey I was thinking about you – is there anything you need?”  They will likely say “No”, but ask anyway.

Also please know that we need to talk about it.  We need to talk about or hear our loved one’s names.  Please don’t come and try and distract us with talk about football or current events to avoid bringing our loved one up in conversation because you think it may make us sad – we are sad – there is no avoiding that.  We have no desire to forget them or pretend it did not happen.  We need to talk about it and it helps if you listen.  And yes, we may cry.  Bring chocolate and cry with us or just get us a tissue and tough it out. 

The only difference between living through a profound loss and never having lived through one – is time.  If you live long enough – you will experience great loss at some point.  One thing I have learned is how important it is to be caring, compassionate and supportive to those experiencing great loss because it does matter.

I 'm sure I have been guilty of the same, though I hope not often and one thing for sure that has come from this – is that I will never again be that person that doesn’t know what to say so I say nothing. 

The holiday season approaches…

Well Thanksgiving came and went and thank God, it wasn’t as bad as I had anticipated.  On the actual day of Thanksgiving – we did not do our traditional family dinner.  Donald and I sat alone in the house all day and ate a leftover hamburger!  Now for the die-hard traditionalist --that is a first.  But two of my grandsons had other plans and would not be able to come so as opposed to having any additional empty chairs – we opted to move our traditional Thanksgiving dinner to Saturday.  My daughter came to help on Friday and we spent the entire day together which was good I think for both of us.  Saturday – I had some free time before everyone arrived and I got the crying out of the way.  It served as a pressure release and I was able to do dinner without a melt-down as I was able to put the sadness on the back burner.  She and I had talked about the loss of the kids and the situation a lot on Friday while we were alone and it kind of got it behind us and although all of us thought about them, everyone seemed to do all right.  I am still very relieved it is over.  I had dreaded it for weeks.

I was home for the four day holiday weekend and it has not been easy but it was okay for the most part. I’ve had my moments but I am learning that that is to be expected as apparently ‘this’ is my new normal; periodically crying, uncontrollably –at random unexpected times and in random unexpected places--maybe forever?  But other than thinking I am losing it --I'm good.

This has truly been the worst year of my entire life.  And one of the things that I was “thankful” for during our Thanksgiving meal was that 2014 is nearly over! 

It has been one nightmare after the other.  January – we got caught up in the ice storm that paralyzed the city as the four million people that usually jam our roads every day during our 3:00 - 7:00 rush "hour" --all tried to leave the city at the same time --in ice.  They jammed the entire city with thousands of stranded cars --some stranded for days and most didn't get home that night.  My husband and I spent the night in our car in a grocery store parking lot in a scary section of town (with about 100 other cars and two school buses!) in 18 degree weather with no food, water or bathroom.

We came home to find our neighbors two 90 lb dogs attacked our little 30 lb 10 year old dog and she was bitten multiple times and in shock and terrific pain.

In February my 44 year old son in law had a heart attack.  He was all right thank God but required testing, treatment and several days in the hospital. (they had no insurance…)

My mother's best friend, Rachel a part of my life as long as I can remember, passed away fifteen years to the day at the exact same time as my mother.

In March I had a car wreck – my first in over 35 years a miracle in itself considering I typically drive about 100 miles a day in a city of 4,000,000 of some of the worst drivers in some of the worst traffic in the U.S. 

There was a shake up in my department at work and my boss was removed from his position and was no longer my boss after 6 years.   So I decided to take another position in a completely different department.  It was a good move for me but still a very emotional, sad and stressful transition.

April, we moved into a rental house that has had one issue right behind the next - the traffic is a nightmare, the roof was leaking, large dead trees falling in the yard and this was the third such move in 6 years. 

May, my unmarried, 18 year old granddaughter happily announced that she was pregnant.   

June, my sister was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia.  

July, she and her husband moved in with us, I became her full time caregiver requiring we spend four to six hours a day in the bone marrow transplant clinic for a yet undetermined amount of time on an emotional roller coaster during what promises to be a long and arduous recovery from a stem cell transplant.

Several of the neighborhood dogs attacked and killed my daughter’s little Pomeranian that had been a huge part of our family for many years.

August, during a really scary complication with my sister, my brother in law accidently let my timid little Siamese cat out and she has never been seen again. 

Then just weeks before my sister’s transplant the unimaginable happened that made the rest of the year seem like a day at the park.  I lost my son, my daughter in law and the baby boy I adored in a violent, and most devastating triple tragedy leaving us all the misery of never knowing the truth about what happened because of a  botched  investigation that left my son to forever bear the blame. 

September, as icing on the proverbial cake, one of my very best friends and I parted ways after 37 years of being almost as close as sisters.

October, Joan had the dreaded Bone Marrow/Stem Cell transplant and 100 straight days of almost daily clinic visits for 4 to 6 hours a day.  Attempting to keep her in a germ-free, bacteria-free, fungus-free environment because she has no immune system.

November, Graft vs. Host disease, two diabetic seizures, three potentially deadly viruses, four different medical offices  --and a partridge in a pear tree.


December, Paxton's third birthday and the first Christmas in my adult life that I will not have my children with me and I will not, in fact, celebrate Christmas at all.   

That hits every major stressor on the scale and the worst one -- three times. 

I will be so glad to see 2014 in the rear-view mirror.   

New Years Eve will be one holiday I am looking forward to celebrating!