two steps forward, one step back...

I don't know if you have noticed or not, but to me when I read over the last 7 months of posts, I notice a slight trend in the overall mood of this blog. As I read, I notice that the first several weeks after Brian's death were full of, "I don't feel like doing this" mentality. My mentality is changing a bit to not wanting this for anyone else, to understanding that it does get easier, to simply forcing some mood changes at home.

The forced smiles are working. Strange therapy, I realize, but honestly, I have heard enough sermons on the topic and been in enough Bible studies to know that there is JOY to be claimed even when your heart is hurting and your whole body doesn't feel like rejoicing. JOY is still abundant. And Christ wants JOY in our lives. You can still have joy even if you have a bad marriage. You can still have JOY even if you are fighting illness. You can still have JOY even if you are oppressed and mistreated. You can still have JOY when you have been told you are dying. And you can still have JOY when what you thought was your future left this world without you 7 months ago.

(one step forward)

In the past 6-8 weeks, since around the second week of September, my mindset has been shifting a bit. I have started focusing more on what lies ahead instead of what just happened. I find my thoughts looking more towards my potential future rather than mourning the future I had planned - one that included Brian.

(one step forward)

The kids and I are in a better routine. The schoolwork is probably the biggest challenge. Honestly, they both struggle a bit - especially Grant right now. That is very difficult for me because I lack patience in this arena. I am praying for patience and gentleness in this aspect of my life so I can be a better teacher and mom to the boys since this will be a huge part of their lives for years to come. Honestly, I get Grant so frustrated with my lack of patience, that he sometimes claims he wants to go back to Kindergarten. My problem is that I never really struggled in school. I didn't have to work hard for many years and when I did, if I just applied and practiced and did some homework problems, I pretty much "got it." (except Dynamics [shudder]). So, I don't "get" "not getting it." Clear as mud? That's what I thought. I've had a couple friends offer to work with Grant independently, so pending the outcome of his conference on Thursday, I may hold them to that offer.

(one step back)

Still, other than the homework, the boys and I are finding our groove. I have implemented a 'no screens' rule (video games, computer, TV) on Mondays-Thursdays. There is no Spongebob to compete with teeth-brushing time in the mornings. They come home and do homework immediately with no ICarly tempting them in the background. And they PLAY with TOYS in the evenings. Well, sort of. They usually set them all up in some sort of never-ending war of the worlds they have created in the basement. A war that makes it very difficult to get from point A to point B. Point A being the bottom of the stairs and Point B being ANYWHERE IN THE REST OF THE BASEMENT due to their elaborate traps, battle zones, MASH tents, headquarters, etc. I do love watching their imaginations at work, but I do LOATHE the resulting mess.

(one step forward)

The boys are almost finished with their counseling sessions. The counselor thinks we have done a great job in processing their grief, which is obviously ongoing, and are equipped to continue. I, strangely, was more worried about Grant who seemed to suppress his emotions a bit in the last several months - since mid-summer. The counselor suggested that he did not see anything alarming in Grant, rather that perhaps Grant was farther along in his grief process. Last week, during Grant's session, he finally spoke of Daddy. He claimed, as he does to me all the time, that he does not miss Dad. This initially broke my heart when he made this proclamation to me this summer. Still, he told the counselor again he did not miss Dad. And upon further discussion (through a game) he told the counselor that his Daddy wasn't hurting anymore. It must have been very difficult for Grant to come home from Kindergarten every day at lunch time last year and watch his Daddy - his male role model, his protector, his human superman - slowly deteriorate. Kids in essence want their parents strong and happy. Anyway, Grant was able to process what was happening to Brian as he witnessed it first-hand with me last Fall and Winter. And he has come to terms with it as being okay for him and okay for Brian. In the end, that is the place we all need to be.

(one step forward)

I do miss Brian immensely right now. I miss the laughter he brought to my life with his sarcastic, dry, witty comments. He was great at a quick one-liner. And he thought I was funny. To get a laugh these days, I have to do things like this: While Gavin was practicing typing his spelling words last week (another medium we try to use to change up the mundane task of printing the same 15 words 4 days a week), I took MY turn. I printed the words: "Gavin is a poopy head." Which had Grant in stitches. Then I typed: "Grant is a fart-face." Which had Gavin in stitches and opened a can of worms I wish had stayed sealed shut with what they continued to type the rest of the evening. Still, that is the level to which I have to resort to get a laugh.

(neither forward nor back, or is that just back??)

Also, I miss having a driver. I have been to my parents' (4 hours one way) twice since the last weekend of September. This past weekend we went to Indiana to see McKenna get baptized. (4 hours one way) This weekend, we are going to Paducah, KY to see Kevin, Heather and the kids in their new house (at least 5 hours one way). In two weeks, I am going to St. Louis (3 hours one way). All that driving and being the only driver gets really old. I long to be a passenger again - reading, taking care of snacks and movies for the kids, channel surfing or manning the IPOD, telling Brian he is driving too slow, complaining about the route Brian chose, you know, all that kind of passenger stuff...

(one step back)

Also, I miss Brian's touch. Oh my LORD, how I miss being touched by him. I miss simply holding his hand. I miss his warmth next to me at night and intertwining our feet while we slept. I miss resting my head in his lap on the couch while he played with my hair. I miss snuggling in the crook of his arm. And yes, I mean I miss his touch in every other way your mind is taking you right now. Holy Cow, if someone could just tell me how to shut this off, I would really appreciate it. Honestly, I PRAY for these desires to flee me. And I can't believe I am sharing this with you, but I was NOT prepared for this part.

(one step back)

I have done a lot of road time as I outlined above and I am soon to do even more road time. One of the things this ROAD TIME allows is opportunity to think. WAY TOO MUCH TIME TO THINK. Since the kids pretty much watch movies the entire way, my mind just marches all over the world and back again. I think about Brian and how I miss him. But, mostly, when I think of Brian now, I smile. My memories of Brian are good ones now. I am not so consumed with the week of his death as I was. I am not so much caught up in my guilt of how I stopped believing in his healing. I think about the man he was. I think about how inspiring he was. I think about the silly things he said and did. When I think of him, I smile more than cry. From what I research, that is a pretty big step in grieving.

(one step forward)

I, also, think about the future. As I stated before, when I think about the future I now think about a different future instead of pitying myself for the future that won't be. I think about where I want to live. I still don't know. Part of me wants to go back to St. Louis to be closer to my family. I have not lived in the same state or within 4 hours of my family since 1995. I would love to experience that. But, I know it is not so easy to just pick up and go somewhere I haven't lived in 15 years. And, to do that, would be to take on an identify in my world of 'single mom of two boys.' It would no longer be - 'Angie, widow of Brian.' I am not ready to take on my identity without Brian, yet.

(neither forward nor back)

Also, when I think about the future, I think about the boys and me. I really don't want to be alone. Right now, I MAY be saying that more from the loneliness I feel every day and from the human desires I spoke of a few paragraphs above. (is anyone still reading this far along anyway?). Still, when I think of myself in the future, I don't see myself alone. I think when you experience a love like Brian and I had - a mutual, respectful, nurturing, physical, encouraging, spiritual, Christ-centered LOVE - you can't help but want part of that again. It is not a desire to replace that love. It is not a desire to redirect loneliness. It is simply a desire to love again.

In the right time...

When my confusion is less and my priorities are better in line with Christ-like thinking...

If God wills it....

TMI???

I also think about what Brian would want for me and the boys. I credit Brian solely on my ability to begin a new outlook on the future for two reason. First of all, we were blessed in that we were able to have these conversations for years due to our circumstances. I know he wanted a new future for me and the boys. He spoke of it even while believing in his own potential future. And in knowing that, the guilt of thinking about it is subdued. Also, Brian rarely looked out on his life and lamented the "could have beens." Rather, he concentrated on the "here and nows" to get to where he wanted to be. He did not allow the fog and cycle of self-pity to enter his daily regimen of a good attitude and a positive outlook. I have no doubt if this situation were reversed, and it was I who had passed on to heaven, he would rejoice for where I was and would pick up the shattered pieces of his broken heart excited about the next adventure in his life. If I were in heaven, isn't that what I would want for him and my boys on earth until they joined me?

(one step forward)

Thanks for listening.

And now for something completely different....

That was for you, Babe. You LOVED it. Hopefully, Sean and John will appreciate it today and see a bit of you in it.

And even more different...

A few pictures because I haven't posted one in a long time...

Grant taking a pic of me doing a cartwheel. That's my game face. If only I could get my abs to be as cut as my calves. I'm working on it.

P.S. Yes, I am geeky enough to make sure I had a 2 to 1 ratio of forwards to backs. I may not keep a very clean house, but when the math doesn't add up, I have a sleepless night.

P.P.S. I would have chosen a different picture of myself, but since the camera went swimming in the lake in July, I have taken only a handful of photos and this is the most recent of me. AND, I wanted you to see that I still do cartwheels despite being 37 AND despite my grief. Sometimes there is no better therapy than a curse word or a cartwheel.

KEEP BELIEVING