Perspective.

september 11th....here we are 10 years later.  i would not consider myself to be one who focuses on politics or what is going on around the world.  it's not that i don't care, it's that it's out of my control and it overwhelms me to think of the sadness and despair that goes on daily in other parts of the world.

september 11th, 2001 we americans we were forced to stare pain and suffering and loss right in the face and well...just deal with it.  and deal with it we did.  we united as a country. as friends. as families. as neighbors.  we had no choice.  it's funny how the times where we have little choice, we are forced to choose. we must decide what matters the most to us.

my head and heart have been heavy the past several weeks and being the tough personality that i am, i have been irritated by my emotions getting the best of me.  i have prayed that god would take my hurt, my anger, and my confusion and just relieve me of it...he has yet to do so. clearly i have something to learn.

i wouldn't consider myself to be one that enjoys drama.  i am recognizing, however, that my life has always, ALWAYS, been filled with extreme highs and lows....and that's the way i like it.  as i review my marriage, we love passionately.  when we fight, we hurl insults and maybe even a candlestick or two.  when we love, it's the kind of love where i throw my legs around his waste and kiss him like we may never see each other again.  we fight hard, because we love even harder.  i am honest with my children and sometimes i fear that i may hurt their feelings in the process.  i am reminded at later times, as they lay across my bed and spill their guts that they know they can come to me and i will tell them the truth...in being honest about my own life, they have learned that they can trust me.

 we grow into adulthood and our lives are supposed to level off...we are meant to stop the drama and get comfortable.  i believe this is where the term mid life crisis comes in.  i look around me at others lives that seem good but oh so boring and i fear they know neither happiness or sadness because they just exist.

this has been my biggest fear in life.  i never want to just be.  i want to FEEL.  it is when we feel, that we learn.

each of my favorite movie's have that pivotal point where the main character has the "aha"! moment when everything comes together and they just get it.  they may stumble through the entire story but the moment that they run into their loves arms, unite a lost friendship, or find a child...the pain has made the moment so very worth it.  i want to live my life as john cusack holding the boom box over his head in the yard.  dramatic, yes. worth it...totally.

live passionately. look stupid. go for it...even if you're not sure you're going to get it.  it is our life experiences that shape us.

i remember finding out that my father had died and holding it together for days while i packed and made arrangements for my children.  i flew across the country, was picked up at the airport by my best friend and driven to my sister's house.  it wasn't until i got out of the car and saw my sister that i ran to her and pent up tears finally fell down my cheeks.  she understood.  many people in the days prior had tried to comfort me with words from when they had lost their own fathers.  it didn't matter.  they hadn't lost MY father.  how could they know how i felt?  

a year later, i boarded another plane, this time with a year old baby in tow. my instructions were to listen to my voicemail when i arrived.   if my mother was still alive when i landed, i was to come to hospice.  if she had passed away while i was flying, i was to go to my sisters house.  the same best friend a year later picked me up at the airport and dropped me off at hospice where my mother was clinging to life...barely.  she took my baby girl off my hands, hugged me tight and left me alone. the next two days we waited for my mother to die.  it was grueling and the longest 48 hours of my life.  my mother's room had a window that looked out at the beautiful lake and i vividly remember sitting in silence on a bench with my sister looking out at the water and smoking a cigarette together....something i hadn't done in years. it was comfortable. it was a distraction. it was what i needed in that moment.

shortly after midnight on a sunday morning, my mother took her last breathe. i was holding her hand when she did.

we drove back to my sister's house where my mother had been staying and like a child, i climbed into the hospital bed she had spent the last 4 months unable to get out of.  i buried my head in the pillow she had laid her head on and tried to smell her. i knew that i never would again. 

fast forward seven years and i was summoned again to the hospital.  this time to look over my 14 year old son laying in bed clinging to his own life.  i remember feeling anxious and confused and wondering to myself if the lord would really ask me to do this again.  i prayed fervently that he wouldn't, but i was prepared if that was what he wanted.

i never cried at the hospital.  i'm not proud of that...it just is what it is.  three weeks into our hospital stay, matt encouraged me to come home and sleep at our house for the sake of our other two children. it would be the first time i slept in my own bed since the incident.   i came home, allowed tucker and bella to fall asleep in my bed and then went into my closet and sobbed uncontrollably.  i finally had a moment to let it hit me...and hit me hard.

i have never been one to ask for help. or sympathy. or even understanding.  i don't always expect my friends to agree with me.  what i expect is for them to BE with me.  our life experiences make us who we are and you can't judge ones actions without knowing their reasons.  we act because of how we feel.  i have been told by many that the way i feel is wrong...how can one even say that to another?  i feel because of what i have experienced. 

i recently flew home to vegas to attend a funeral for a friend of mines son.  i had the privilege of working for her husband when i was a newlywed and knew her sweet kids when they were young and a few as they were adolescents.  years earlier, she had lost her husband in an accident and now years later, she was called upon to bury her son.  i didn't tell her i was coming into town for the funeral, i just came to show support.  when we saw each other for the first time she said "you got on a plane to come here"??  i replied simply "what else was i going to do"?  we spent a teary moment and chuckled about heavenly father having entirely too much confidence in us.  she had known my parents and was a source of comfort when i had lost them.  parents were one thing, but a husband and son...i couldn't even imagine.  

we play the hand we are dealt in life.  sometimes we do it gracefully.  other times not so much.  it is at these times we discover who our friends are. marilyn monroe once said "i am selfish. impatient. and little insecure. i am out of control and at times hard to handle. but if you can't handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best".  i have made a point to offer my friends a lot and it has made all the difference when it came time to call upon them. 

while my life has had some rather dark and heavy times, i lay in bed at night and my head spins with wonderful memories of friends, of vacations, and laughter.  not just giggling.  hard belly laughter that has you fearing that you could quite possibly pee your pants.  my life is a tapestry of events and as i review these events,  my mind and my heart focus on who was there with me in these times. i have been beyond blessed with a husband i am madly in love with.  i have been given both sons and a daughter to raise and teach and mold into the people they are meant to become.  i have lived an incredibly fun and full life...and i'm only 36 years old.  i think this is the part where i am supposed to get comfortable and just be.

i refuse.

i believe that the most important thing i have been called to do in this life is to be a friend.  i am a friend to my husband.  i am a friend to my children. i am a friend to my siblings (though i need to be a better one).  my close friends in high school are still close friends.  my west coast friends still call weekly to touch base. share a funny story. or tell me they miss me.  i abandoned the friends that sustained me during my hard times...they forgive me and love me nonetheless.  my head hits my pillow at night and my mind is flooded with memories that make me smile and provide me comfort when i am so many miles away. 

my friendships have been the foundation for what i have built my life upon.  i have sailed through the toughest of times unscathed with good friends by my side and yet tripped over life's little hiccups because no one was there for me.  the deciding factor in my sanity has always been who was standing with me.

i have lived my life with a faith that has sustained me for many, many years. it has filled me with peace and comfort and a sense that with it, i could do anything.  my beliefs seemed to mold me into the person i am today.  i have been fortunate enough to have my faith intertwined with my friendships and because of that, it was an unshakable part of who i was....i was unmovable.  when i struggled with my faith, my friends stepped in until i figured it out.  

several years ago, i began to feel a void where i once was full.  at first i tried to fix it. i quickly realized that i couldn't because it required changing others and that wasn't my place.  it was then that i became frustrated.  shortly after becoming frustrated, i got angry.... the anger stayed a bit longer than i had hoped but finally, i became sad. sadness is not an emotion that i have had much experience with.  even during sad times, i looked to what i was supposed to learn and moved on.  throughout my life, i have been many, many things. sad has never been one of them.

i held on to my faith because it was all i knew. i held on long after it wasn't working because the fear of the unknown was more than i could take in.  i held on all the while looking around me for something else to grab hold of....but how could i grab hold of something else while i was so hyper-focused on what was weighing me down? i couldn't.

ironically, my faith is what gave me the strength to finally let go.

i have had the chance to speak with several people over the past few weeks and the conversation always turns to me defending my current position in life.  my sweet husband asked me why i kept setting myself up...he pointed out, that it never makes me feel any better.  he was right. he is usually right (though i will deny ever saying that).

when we defend ourselves it is usually because of two reasons. 1) we know that what someone is saying is true...and it's hard to hear. OR  2) we completely disagree with what they are saying and we want desperately for them to agree with us, or at least validate one or more of our points.

i found myself defending because of the latter...and it did not serve me well.

recently, i have been told that friends and social aspects are not part of my faith. that if i am struggling spiritually, it is because of my own errors.  through my faith, i stand alone and it is between me and god...no one else.

i don't believe that.

i believe that god places people in our lives to lift us up. to give us support. to be there physically when he can't be.  god can't call me four mornings a week at 7:30 am to tell me to get my butt out of bed and  have a good day but my friend in utah can and does (when she is up 2 hours earlier than me).  god can't lay in bed at night and listen to me go on and on about the weeks stresses, but my husband can....and he does.  god couldn't sit on a bench with me and hold my hand while my mother was withering away a few yards away from me....but my sister could.  god couldn't help me change the sheets of my unconscious teenager when he was having accidents and my emotions were so raw,  I couldn't bring myself to do it...but my friends could, and they did.

at the same time, i have been placed in peoples lives and have been given opportunities to throw my arms around a friend while she cried (once in the middle of my front yard because that was when and where she needed me). i was able to get on a plane to show my face at a funeral for a friends child if for no other reason to show that i felt her son was worth it.  i have been able to sit in silence with friends. i have kept secrets.  at times, i was able to hold on to things i already knew until a friend was ready to tell me herself.  i received a text message the other day from a friend who informed me that a friend of ours was going through a divorce.  she asked me to call her for moral support.  she had done her part as a friend and was now handing it to me and encouraging me to do the same...cause she knew i would.

i am fiercely loyal.  if you are in my corner, i'll beat someone up for you. when your name is said and i fear that something negative is coming, i will put my hand up and demand that the person speaking shut up. i will keep my opinions to myself until you ask...or until i think you need to hear it and are too afraid to face the truth.  i pride myself on who i surround myself with...i always have.  it is because of who i surround myself, that i am who i am.

 i kind of like who i am.

i have been a good friend and because of it...i have good friends.  i was asked twice last week what i was angry about.  it occurred to me later, that anyone who has to ask that question...isn't worthy of the answer.  i can tell my friends that i'm fine and my true friends can say "i know that you're not".

life happens. things happen to us. we change. we are supposed to.  i believe firmly that we are meant to evolve in order for the plan to work. i have been questioning myself for a long time now thinking that something was incredibly wrong with me.  i have been questioning the things that i held at the utmost importance for so many years.  it has tormented me...literally.

it occurred to me yesterday that the reason god isn't taking these feelings away from me is because i'm not wrong. he values my feelings and he wants me to do something about them.  my anger has softened and i pitied those that told me friends weren't important...it only means that they have never been blessed with friends like mine.  i thought of those who told me i shouldn't question anything of a spiritual nature...it only means that they are small minded and can only see things one way.  they use faith as an excuse to avoid any type of action.  they use their faith as a cushion to sit on.  i use my faith as a skateboard:) i use it to get me through life and at a rate that allows me to experience as much as i possibly can in the short amount of time i'm given.

god gave me a brain...i believe he intended for me to use it.  god gave me heart ( a big one at that) and i believe he intended for it to get broken and stepped on and at the same time to feel joy and overwhelming happiness.  i am pleased to report that i am using both of these things he gave me...after all, i'm alive aren't i?

do i believe in god?....absolutely.  do i believe in the importance of family?...without a doubt.  i believe in saying sorry.  i believe in asking for forgiveness and extending forgiveness when necessary. i believe in being on one path for a certain amount of time and then turning around and heading in another direction if you think that there is something that you can learn from doing so.  i believe in falling. i believe in getting back up.

i have never wanted a "stale" life.  i don't like boring. i don't like normal.  i don't like settling.  i have a great marriage...because i won't settle for less.  i have good and kind kids...because that's what i expect them to be. i struggle with my church only when it comes up short.  i want better because i have had better. i expect much from my friends because i would never ask someone to do something for me that i myself wouldn't do for them.

i have been called judgmental. i call myself fair.

i have no use for those who tell me that my expectations are too high.  yes, i have high expectations of my life...i only get one and i want to make it worthwhile.  i ponder my life daily and when i achieve one thing, i ask "what's next"? I would rather look back on my life and say "oops". than "what if"?

i didn't intend to go off in the direction that i did...apparently i had a lot on my mind. shall we get back to september 11th and how i woke up today with a perspective that i so desperately needed?
 i watched several documentary's on 9/11 last night and dozens upon dozens of people recounted the events of that dreadful day.  the one thing i heard over and over was people's final moments and that each individual was thinking of their loved ones.  some called home from the twin towers to say goodbye.  some managed to phone from the airplanes and tearfully say their "i love you's" and "goodbyes".  i am certain that those jumping from the building's had their loved ones on their hearts and minds. a gentleman recounted making it out of the building, lying down in a grassy spot, and preparing to die.  he remembered a conversation he had had with his wife a week prior where she made him promise that he wouldn't leave her young.  he kept that promise and forced himself to stand up because of it.  people survived that inconceivable day because of the help from co-workers and even strangers.

was god there?...yes. but he was a mere spectator watching what we as human beings would do for one another.  at the end of our lives, the only, ONLY thing that will matter is those who have been a part of our lives.  it will be those who have touched our lives and those whose lives we have touched that will weigh on our minds when we take our last breath.  yes, we die alone...but if we have good friends, we don't have to.

are people an important part of this life?  i believe that at the end of the day, they're all we've got.
friendship...the most beautiful word in the human language. it matters to me and i'm done apologizing for it.

i have a vision of myself at the end of my life.  i am walking towards the light pulling a beat up suitcase with a bum wheel.  i am tired and i most likely look like shit.  my hair is a mess and i'm not wearing my best outfit....i may even be in tennis shoes, though i doubt it.   i look like someone who has lived....and lived fully.  i look like someone who has learned a lot of lessons and many of them the hard way.  i look like someone who didn't sit back but stood up for what she believed in, often times getting her hand bit in the process.

i look exactly the way i want to look.

 i make it to my heavenly father and look up at him with weary eyes. He looks at me and it is then that i realize he doesn't care that i yelled at my kids earlier in the week because he has watched me love them on so many occasions.  he doesn't care that i smoked a cigarette to pass the time when my mom was dying because he watched me exercise and eat healthy for years and years.   he doesn't care that i chewed out an insensitive nurse for leaving me alone to change a diaper on my fragile teenager because he saw me draw strength and do it alone just the night before.  he doesn't care if i made a obligatory casserole to take to a church function but rather more about the million peanut butter and jelly sandwiches i prepared for my children over the years and the sweet moments i shared with them at the kitchen table while they ate.

he knows me. he gave me my challenges because he knew i could handle them.  he will be the only judge of my actions...because he is the only one who knew my reasons.  I will repent of my love for costly apparel and he will forgive me.  he will hand me some frumpy smock and i will roll my eyes and ask for a belt. i will tell him i'm sorry that i didn't spend more time focusing on the little things and it is then that he will tell me that the little things didn't matter at all. he will tell me that the little things are satan's way of distracting us from the big picture.   it is then, that i will make the snide comment "you're going to have A LOT of pissed off people coming through these gates, you know that don't you?  there are people killing themselves for little things".

 and that will be that.

i will find my parents waiting patiently and my father will take my crappy suitcase from me like he has done a thousand times when he picked up from the airport and he will toss it aside, informing me that none of my baggage comes with me here...and i will breathe a sigh of relief.

and then, i will wait anxiously for my friends to arrive...for it is they, that i will miss the most.

One year later....we meet again.

 I walked through the double doors that took me into the emergency waiting room. I opened my mouth to inform the girl playing on her phone at admitting that my son was there. She pushed the button to let me back before I had even finished my sentence. I resented it.  Apparently, they'd been expecting me. 


I walked through the doors by myself and to this day don't know if my friend was giving me privacy or if she was instructed that she couldn't come with me. Regardless, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other and the large double doors closed quietly behind me. For the brief moment I was alone, I contemplated sliding down the wall and waiting for someone to find me.  The doorways were sprinkled with nurses and as I walked the wide hallway they seemed to part from me.  I actually believe by definition, the word scampered would be more appropriate. They avoided eye contact at all cost and I remember thinking for a minute that some poor bastard drew the short straw that night. Someone would have to sit me down and give me the bad news.  You know the whole car wreck analogy? The one where you don't want to look but just can't help your eyes from wandering?  Well this particular night, I was the car wreck and no one wanted to look.  They resisted as long as they could but the moment I passed by them, I felt their eyes on me... I resented this too.


I turned a corner and saw my husband... He'd aged ten years since I'd seen him last.  He was speaking with one of the EMT's who had brought Riggs in and frankly the guy looked bored.  I discovered over the next several days that when people are in shock they retell their story multiple times trying to make sense of what happened. It's as though they hyper focus on details when the reality is, the details don't really matter at this point. 


Matt turned and spotted me, stopping mid sentence and making a b-line for me. He threw his arms around me and I thought for a minute that he would crush me. We embraced in the middle of the ER with the eyes of EMT's, nurses, and less significant patients on us.  On this particular night, we were the trauma case that shook things up in the emergency room. Nurses would be going home at the end of their shift and discussing MY son at their dinner tables. 


Matt pulled away from me and to this day, I remember how terrible he looked. My fashion conscious husband stood covered in mud in the middle of the ER. He wore a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, dirt bike shorts, black socks, and sandals...I almost wanted to laugh. One look at his dirt covered face reminded me of the severity of our situation. It made the tear streaks on his cheeks that much more noticeable.  


I turned my head to the left and spotted my little Tucker sitting alone in a waiting room with the door propped open.   He was sitting with one boot off, clutching his hands together in prayer while at the same time holding a bed pan with his elbows should he need to vomit. Behind Matt was a room that had a curtain drawn and the incessant buzzing of doctor's and nurses made it clear that whatever was going on behind there was of the utmost importance.  
I knew without a doubt that it was Riggs. 
I looked into the eyes of my husband and they seemed to plead with me. They begged me to take over so he could just unravel. 


In that moment, I recognized that the burden was now mine and that falling apart wasn't an option. I had to go deep to find my strength or I'd never make it.  I never fell apart. To this day, I have yet to fall apart. 


I looked at my 3 equally needy boys and then turned to the medic next to me. I turned to this stranger and asked "where should I go first"?.  He nodded his head towards Tucker and I left Matt standing alone. I pushed the door open to find my 11 year old sitting in a room with 6 chairs, a bible, and a television with the sound turned down. I remember thinking did someone ACTUALLY put cartoons on for this kid?...He needed a whole lot more than Spongebob right then and I quietly reached up and turned the T.V. off.  I kneeled in front of him and let him tell me what I already knew.  He too was in shock and needed to re-tell the story over and over. I just listened.


I'm not sure what I was expecting but no one offered any words of encouragement or support. We were a soap opera that night and our lives were being played out for those in the emergency room. The behavior of those working that night was a bit stand offish. It was if they were giving our family space that we didn't yet know we needed.


I thought that perhaps God was giving us the gift of being together when we said goodbye to Riggs.  It was evident that we all thought we were still going to lose him.  It was just going to be a little "tidier" this way.  I felt relief for Matt that he wouldn't have been alone with him when it happened. Somehow in the insanity of all this, I felt grateful for that small blessing.


I stayed with Tucker purposely avoiding Riggs. If we are being honest, I really didn't want to see him.  I knew that he was in bad shape and I also knew that there wasn't a thing I could do about it. Tuckers and my moment was stolen when a doctor followed by Matt pushed the door open and I was asked to come with them. I was informed that we were waiting for the Children's hospital ambulance to arrive so that Riggs could be transported to a better hospital.  He was considered too critical for where we were and had the weather been better, would have been eligible to have been life flighted.  The lightning was still out of control and it would have been considered too risky.
  Matt started walking towards the curtain and I paused. What kind of mother would I be if I admitted I didn't want to see my child who was clinging to life?...I hung my head and followed.


The curtain was drawn back and there lay my barely 14 year old son. Respectfully, the EMT's parted. This time,however, they were stepping aside to grant me access to my child.  Even Matt stood back and allowed me to take it all in.  My hesitation to see him quickly subsided and I walked quietly towards him and took his IV'd hand in mine.  He looked small in comparison to the machines and the uniformed men that surrounded him. He was bare chested and dirty from the combination of riding and weathering the storm...literally. 
The only thing I could think of to say was "I'm here". I touched the tubes connected to his face and hands and took a deep breath when I noticed the large tube down his throat.  One of the nurses must have read my curious face and answered my unasked question. "That's to help him breath", she said. "He is under too much stress to do that on his own right now".  "Oh". was all I could think of to say.


Remembering that I had left my friend in the waiting room, I excused myself to bring her up to speed.  I pushed the button to open the double doors and was greeted by several somber faced neighbors and members from my church. We hadn't been at the hospital but 45 minutes.  I found it amazing how quickly bad news traveled.  At that moment, none had anything to offer but they had come out in a fierce storm to just be with us and that meant perhaps more than anything they could have done for us.


Our bishop and a friend came prepared to give Riggs a blessing (which is something in our faith that we draw strength from during times like these). I thought of all the times Matt had been called out to hospitals and homes to bless others throughout our marriage. This night was different. Others had left their own families for our benefit. We were grateful...and desperate.


It has been my experience that others not of our faith (especially in hospital settings) are always respectful of our beliefs and will in almost all cases, step outside of the room in an attempt to give privacy.  This particular night, our bishop and friend placed their hands on Riggs head to give him a blessing.  Matt quietly asked for privacy and the medics in the room didn't budge. Due to Riggs condition, they couldn't afford to leave him...and so they didn't.  The minute we said "amen", the EMT's began working and swiftly took him away.  I was told that I would be riding in the ambulance with him so as they were putting him in for transport, I stepped out to tell my friends goodbye. 


Being the control freak that I am, I tend to give orders. This night, I was overwhelmed to say the least.I relinquished my control and trusted others to take care of my family.  A friend took Tucker and another kept Bella (who at this point still didn't know what was going on).  I watched some of Matt's buddies take him home so he could clean up and pack me a bag. They walked with him, holding him up by the elbows.  He limped out of the emergency room with his own injuries untreated.  I have never seen him look so weak.  I knew that every ounce of strength he had went into keeping Riggs alive...he didn't have anything left for himself.


I climbed up into the ambulance. They had sent the stretch limo of all ambulances and I was again reminded of the severity of our situation. Two men were driving, three were in the back making sure that Riggs remained stable, and I sat on a bench seat alone.  I remember thinking for what this ride was going to cost me, I really should enjoy it.


The sirens wailed. And we were off.


On a side note...
I was trying to catch an hour of sleep this afternoon when my cell phone rang. When I didn't answer, it rang again. I grabbed it quick the second time around. It was Matt informing me that Tucker had been at a friends house, had fallen, and hurt his face skateboarding. Having just flown in on a red eye this morning, I was tired and irritated that upon having just dropping him off at a friends, I was now going to have to go and pick him up. I arrived at his friends house, accessed the situation and recognized that he needed stitches, even if just a few.  I phoned Matt to meet us at the hospital. We were already aware that we would be returning to the exact same hospital we had been exactly one year earlier but it wasn't until we were walking in together that Matt pointed out we were walking in at the exact same time as we were one year ago today...what are the odds?
As we were having him admitted, the sky turned grey. And then it turned black. Upon seeing the stress Bella was under, Matt ordered me to get her home. I buckled her in the car and tried to calm her as we pulled out of the hospital.  We were about halfway home when the lightning began followed by pouring rain.  She buried her little head in her hands and cried the whole way home.  


It occurred to me that yes, we are one year out from this mess. Riggs is still with us. I am grateful. I am blessed. However...
 The reality is that we often overcome one issue only to turn the corner and confront another. This is where we are at now. People often ask me how Riggs is doing. For the most part, he's fine.
For the most part, we're all fine.


For the most part.


 I drove home at 15 miles an hour squinting through the pounding rain and wondered if God really could be this cruel.
 Another thought followed...maybe, just maybe, he just has a really bad sense of humor.


Tonight, one year later, my family is all under one roof. They are sleeping soundly in their beds. I was able to kiss each child good night. I will curl up with my husband (who now sleeps with headphones on when it rains) and give thanks to God and his awful sense of humor that the worst is behind us.


We hope anyways.

one year later.

 what a difference a year makes. or a month. or a day. or in our case...an hour.

we are approaching the one year anniversary of the incident (that sounds polite enough right)? that's right, the incident that completely blindsided our family and by the grace of God (and matthew's superhero powers) allowed us to get up again...even if it was at a turtles pace.  you know the phrase "it seems like yesterday"?  yeah, well that isn't really the case for us.  quite the contrary really.  it seems like a lifetime since the so called incident and while we have healed physically, it has become evident that the emotional scars may be here to stay.

it was an ordinary summer day (june 15th to be exact) and i was basking in what appeared to be the perfect day.  i had accomplished grocery shopping for the week, spent the day deep cleaning my house, taken the kids to the pool and then come home to shower and wind down for the day.  matt had made good on his  promise to take tucker dirt bike riding despite the wicked heat and humidity.  riggs had decided midday to go along and being the good kid that he is, helped with the chore of loading up the trailer.   (it wasn't until several weeks after the accident that it occurred to me that riggs wasn't even supposed to have been there...go figure).   i had made a point to bathe my daughter early that evening in the hopes of her falling asleep shortly after the boys had left.  i was preparing for a kid free evening in my quite and oh so clean house. ironically, moments before receiving the phone call, i had updated my facebook status to that of having one of the best days i'd had in quite some time.  call me superstitious, but i haven't done that since.

now, i have had several "incidents" in my life and i'm always amazed that i can remember the smallest of details with each one.  for example, on the night of the incident,  i remember the dress i was wearing. i hate that dress now.  it's unfortunate really...because it was new. and cute. and expensive....and now i hate it.

i remember that because riggs had been helping load the trailer, he hadn't had a chance to eat.  he ran inside to grab some dinner  before leaving.  he ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich followed by an enormous piece of vegetable lasagna.  My biggest worry that evening was that he would get a stomach ache from the disgusting dinner he had just inhaled and be too sick to ride.  laughable when you consider what happened.

in typical sarah form, i was vacuuming my already clean kitchen floors and decided to clean out my vacuum in the process.  sadly, this is what i choose to do on a free night from the husband and kids -
  In what seemed like a millisecond the sky turned black and a typical southern storm let loose.  

i called matthew to give him the heads up that a storm was coming their way but he didn't answer.  i assumed they were either getting a few more laps in before it reached them  or that they were loading up the bikes....thinking nothing of it, i went back to my cleaning. they had been gone one hour.  yep, that's it...one hour.  

What a difference an hour makes.

i went back to cleaning when the phone rang. the caller id had shown  matt's phone and i casually answered "hey".  silence on the other end followed by a crying tucker stopped me in my tracks.  now mom's know their children's cries.  there are the cries of being hurt. of hurt feelings. of fear.  this was none of those...it was a cry  i had never heard and pray to God that i never hear again. it was pitiful.

"we had an accident. we got hit" was what i heard. 

"i'm on my way, where are you"? i ask, assuming it had been a car accident.

"we got struck by lightning", he said and frankly, i found the statement ridiculous.

"put dad on the phone tuck".  i'm shocked at how calm I am.  i may have even been a little annoyed.

"i can't.  he's working on riggs".....

ok, you know the part in the movies where the room disappears and the main character's head gets huge and they are just standing in the middle of the room spinning? ok, well that's me.  standing in my kitchen. in a pile of vacuum dirt. in the dress that i now hate.

for the next 5 minutes i listen to my middle child pray that God doesn't take his brother.  he actually begs for forgiveness for fighting with him earlier that morning.  he composes himself for a few minutes than wales through 11 year old tears "please don't take my brother. i'll do anything".  he is talking to God of course but is using me as his witness....as if i have ANY control over the situation. i don't...i am confused and helpless and all i want is to talk to my husband. but i can't...he's working on riggs...whatever that means.

 it is only later that i learn that while tucker had been on the phone with me, he was watching his dad give CPR to what he is sure is his dead brother through the truck window and being the stellar little man he is, spares me the details.

when my heart can't take anymore, i tell him that i need to call him back.   i am calm... eerily calm. i phone a girlfriend and flatly ask if she can come over.  she laughs and responds "you do realize there's like a hurricane going on, right"?  i have no idea what i said next but it was enough to get her there because she arrives moments later.  i open my screen door and thrust my little girl at her and order her to take her to the neighbors.  oblivious to what is going on, she follows my instructions in the middle of the pouring rain and leaves almost as quickly as she came.

when each of my children were born, there was that moment before i began to push that my body would go into full blown convulsions. regardless of the epidural which had taken  away any sort of pain, my body (and perhaps my mind) understood that something pretty major was about to happen and responded by shaking.  with each delivery matthew would cover me with a mountain of blankets.  while the thought was nice, it served no purpose because the convulsions were coming from the inside.

the moment my daughter was out of site, my calm demeanor subsided and convulsions followed.  i recall bracing myself on my outdoor patio furniture for fear of my legs giving out. the phone rang and it took me a moment before realizing it was in my hand.  i answer  to hear my husband sobbing on the other end.  "i did all i could", he said.  "they pulled me off of him and took him from me". he proceeded to tell me several other things but i had stopped listening after he told me he'd done all he could.   i was aware of how long it had been since receiving the first call and knew that no one, NO ONE could sustain being down as long as my child had been.  in this moment, we are are fifteen miles apart and we are both certain that our oldest child is dead. we hang up from one another  and i collapse at my kitchen table. i don't cry. i am numb.

there isn't a parent alive that hasn't had that moment where they can't find a child in the store for two minutes or watches the panicked face of an infant choking.  they will describe those two minutes as feeling as though it were ten.  well, let me tell you what 40 minutes feels like...it feels like a lifetime.  

my girlfriend arrives to find me out of my mind distraught and i bring her up to speed.  i can hardly form the words struck by lightning. it seems surreal. actually, it sounds stupid...but it is the truth and that's all i have right now.  i tell her it's not looking good.  she literally drags me to my kitchen floor and we kneel in the pile of vacuum dirt (another irrelevant detail I have yet to forget).  she pleads with God for a miracle. i remember for a second feeling guilty that i hadn't thought of it myself.  i had after all, listened to the prayers of my middle son...the least I could have done was echo his words. again, i was numb...

i would describe myself as being extremely level headed and at times almost TOO rational.  i would be lying if i said i never cracked, but the truth is... i don't crack in front of others.  we had barely said "amen" when I got to my feet and then completely lost my mind. the phone hadn't rung in several minutes and everything in my body told me that my husband was on his way home to tell me that riggs was gone.

i asked my friend to take me somewhere...anywhere.  i didn't want to be home to hear the news.
i realize now how ridiculous that was.  the news would have found me eventually, regardless of where I hid. in this moment, however, i was ready to run away.

my friend had enough sense to pretend she would take me somewhere but told me she wanted to first call matt for an update.  i begged her not to, however,  she was in her right mind and I wasn't.  she won.

she had gotten matt on the phone and i put my head on the kitchen table to brace myself for what i was about to hear. i almost pitied her for the position i had put her in. even in this horrific moment, i recall feeling  bad for her.  a moment later,  i heard the word stabilized. this brought me a small amount of comfort.  i had no idea what that meant...but it was better than the alternative.  they were transporting him to the hospital, and as far as I knew, they didn't take the deceased to the hospital. 

i think this was one of the five times in my life that i have left the house without make-up.  i left the dog out of his cage, candles burning, and every light on in my house. i grabbed my purse and mechanically climbed into the car.  my friend drove me to the hospital in what was apparently one of the worst storms we have ever had...i honestly don't remember.  if I recall, it was a rather quite ride to the hospital.  i remember getting off at our exit and turning my head towards heaven.  with the attitude of a teenager, i smugly said "I haven't asked you for anything.  If you are even remotely aware of us, prove it".

I was talking to my parents.

To be continued...

Here goes nothing...

I have always liked to write.  It wasn't until after high school that I discovered I had this secret talent and I have sworn for years that someday...someday I would do something with it.  Perhaps a smutty novel...maybe a self-help book (who am I kidding)?  A talent given should not be wasted and yet that is precisely what I have done....wasted it.   I take credit for a handful of witty facebook posts and maybe a couple of hundred funny emails but that has been the extent of my god given talent (perhaps my ONLY god given talent).  A therapist encouraged me many years ago to write letters and never give them to those who may have angered or hurt me.  This was to serve as therapy.  I have written and burned about a dozen letters in my adult years and sadly...delivered a few.

Today is my mothers birthday and I hate to admit that I think of her less and less with each passing year. While she is engraved in my every movement, I don't take time like I used to just ponder her or miss her for that matter.  It is because of that I am taking the opportunity to do something that she always encouraged me to do...write.   She was that kind of mother. The kind that told you that you could do whatever you wanted and made you believe not only could you do it, but that you'd succeeded before you even started. She would get you so riled up while you were talking to her that you'd want to leave mid conversation and get started on whatever it was you had wanted to do.

Our confidence gets tarnished as we get older. We start and quit jobs. We gain and lose friends.  We find ourselves in toxic situations where people tell us that we can't do something or that we are doing it  wrong. We find ourselves running the rat race called life and fall victim to those who are trying to swipe our legs out from under us...  this is where we run to our mothers and they comfort us and tell us that we really ARE all that and a bag of chips and suddenly we feel better about ourselves.

This is where I have been lacking.

Motherless daughters.  Ugh...I hate the way that sounds.  I have walked down the isle at the book store and glanced at books with that title.  I have yet to pick one up because it sounds pitiful and depressing and like it might strike a chord so deep that once I went there...I might never return.

I think it is fair to say that I have grown more in the 8 years since my mothers passing than perhaps in my 36 years combined.  I'd be lying if I said that the growth had been pretty.  Perhaps the fact I have muddled through without a mothers wisdom and insight is why it has been so brutal and ugly at times.  Moving across the country, teenagers, a child hanging on for dear life, marriage quarrels....I'd pay a thousand for her two cents right about now.

 Not a day passes that I don't thank my dad for my wicked sense of humor.  It has given me the ability to laugh at my situations, my surroundings, and most of all...myself.  My laughter is sometimes (ok, A LOT of the time) irreverent but it is my coping mechanism and it has served me well:)

My mother encouraged me to journal which has never appealed to me.  I did however thrive on her writings when she passed away.  I remember reading her journaling about the day she was diagnosed with cancer and how she sat outside in the pouring rain wishing it would wash her clean of cancer.  (storms seem to have an underlying theme in my family...) It is because my time was cut short with my family, I feel the need to heed her counsel and use my talent to leave something behind for my family....not that I'm going anywhere.  So today, in honor of her...I'm going to tackle my goal to start a blog (not journal) but blog.  That seems much more doable and much less like Little House on the Prairie.

My mom was sweet and gentle and at the same time was an old school badass.  I never once saw her feel sorry for herself (though she had ample reason too).  She seriously controlled her own destiny...up until the day she died.  I mean she had her own programs made up for the funeral if that tells you anything about the kind of woman she was...

Becoming a motherless daughter (gulp. there I said it) didn't send me into a depression but it sure had me stuck for awhile.  I am happy to report that I am feeling less and less stuck with each passing day and though I am still most likely covered in mud, the fact is I am here. I have learned that enduring the trial is usually more important than the trial itself. Even if it seems like it is taking an unusually long time to heal....or in my case, a ridiculously long time to heal.

I have begun trying new things and have spent more time laughing at myself than usual.  I have allowed people into my life that I wouldn't have even considered in the past and am enjoying what they have to teach me.  I am talking to strangers more (though my children would tell you this has never been a problem for me). I am learning peoples names and calling them by it. Why? Because everyone deserves to feel important.  I am quicker than ever to recognize when someone makes me feel bad and it is getting harder and harder to ignore those feelings.  I have zero tolerance for anger or bitterness or flaring tempers.  I worked too hard to shed these ugly behaviors and now... I don't want to be in the same room with them.

I still don't know who I am.  I hope I never know.  If I do, then that will mean I've stopped growing....the key is to constantly reinvent and whether that means learning to play the drums, or going dancing with a friend, laughing louder than normal or simply changing negative behaviors than bring it...

Life is too short to stay the same.