Remembrances, Reminders, and Re-Grief

I was sitting in French class at McEachern High School. Still a newbie to the junior class (class of 2003, represent!), I didn't know many people, didn't have really solid relationships with anyone. We were working on some class work when my teacher (Madame Guacide - from Martinique) leaves the classroom for a minute then comes back in, all flustered. She says, in a confused and rush voice "They just blew up the Empire State Building!" Everyone's head jerks up and there's a loud "WHAT?!" that explodes from me and my classmates. We rush next door to the other French class and stand there, in shock, as the first World Trade Center tower is erupting in smoke. Minutes later, the second plane hits and everyone is speechless, silent, shocked, angered, yelling, crying...confused, scared, enraged, worried, upset. None of us know who's the culprit or why someone would do such a horrid thing. We then see the news about the Pentagon and the same emotions erupt again. What in the WORLD is happening to our precious country? And who hates us so much? And WHY? The rest of the day is spent watching the news in all my classes. People are being checked out of class by their parents. Everyone is in shock.

My heart has been so heavy, burdened by the loss our country experienced 10 years ago. And I still cannot understand why it happened. I am completely confused that someone had that much hatred in their heart. (Writer's Note: No political debates, answers, reasons, please. This is not the place for them.) All day long, I was reminded of the tragic events that happened a decade ago. And the next thought I had was "A decade? A whole 10 years? Is that even possible?" Well, yes. Time goes on, regardless of how bad we want to slow it down to enjoy time with a newborn or a new love or an aging grandparent. Time never moves any slower or faster - it is steady and consistent. More on that in a few paragraphs.

When I got home from church, I turned the TV on to the first memorial service that I could find. I wound up watching C-SPAN, where they were broadcasting live from Ground Zero and the World Trade Center memorial. There were two people reading the names of the victims. After about 20 names, they ended with "And my mother..." or "And my beloved husband..." or "My dad, a NYPD police officer" ... It went on and on. Different people read names and each ended with a family member that died. I sat on my couch, in my quiet apartment and just cried. My heart ached with grief for those people. They lost their loved one 10 years ago. TEN YEARS. How have they survived? How have they coped? And how are they handling this anniversary, with the entire country watching and observing? I wonder if some of them had just begun to find their "new normal" in life and then all of a sudden, WHAM! The 10 year anniversary is here and it's broadcast across the country, possibly even the world. Grief is a personal and private thing - and everyone handles it differently - how are these people dealing? I am utterly baffled.

At the end of the day, I have a peace in my heart knowing that God was not surprised by this. He wept before, during and after. While I will never have an rock solid answer as to why God allows certain things to happen, I rest in confidence knowing that HE is in control. He is steady and consistent. His timing is perfect and I'm a fool to try and change it. God is glorified even in the most horrific tragedies. I have a hard time accepting that some days, but I know in my soul that it's true. When I reflect on these past two years after losing Jacob, I can pick out a few moments where I had no strength in me and had no choice but to lean on the Lord. And He was glorified in that. There were really happy moments (example: Libby Kate's arrival!) and I KNOW God was glorified in those moments. There were quiet moments where I was alone with my thoughts and reflections and God is glorified in those moments, I'm sure of it.

You are peace, You are peace
When my fear is crippling
You are true, You are true
Even in my wandering

You are joy, You are joy
You're the reason that I sing
You are life, You are life
In You, death as lost its sting

Don't Talk to Strangers...?

My heart is heavy tonight with an odd quandary. Growing up, we were all taught that we're not supposed to talk to to strangers. But why? What could have happened to me? ::I know children are abducted more times that we want to think about and bad things DO happen to people that talk to strangers.:: But... a huge part of my job consists of talking to people I don't know - aka - strangers. So where's the harm?

Perhaps I should I expound upon my heavy heart before I continue my (deep?) thinking.

I was leaving Andy's apartment tonight after stopping in for a quick hug and hello (and to get my Donate Life bracelet that I can't go a day without - thanks hun!) and I went out the back gate, like normal. There was this woman standing there, waving her arms and walking in front of my car. Thinking she needed directions or to be let in the gate, I slowed down and rolled my window down. She was carrying this plastic bag that looked heavy and full. Here's a summary of what our conversation consisted of:

Lady: Oh thank you ma'am. I need your help. This man gives me this bag of water bottles but I am HUNGRY! I was wondering if you could possibly take me down to the QT so I could get a hot dog. I know I should be grateful for the man givin' me these here water bottles and I should just drink them and the Lord will satisfy my hunger, but I am HUNGRY! I'm sooooooooo HUUUUNNNNGGRYYY. Could you please take me to the QT so I could get a hot dog?

Me: ::looks around my very full car that's loaded down with program supplies from an event that night (coolers and boxes):: Ma'am, I'm sorry but I don't have any room in my car. How about I give you $2 and you walk to QT just down the road?

Lady: Oh thank you so much. I mean, I could just get in the back. I'm so HUNGRY. ::takes money:: I couldn't just get in the back? Two hot dogs are $2.18. I guess I'll just drink these water bottles. I'm so hungry...I'm so hungry... Couldn't I get in the back?

Me: Have a good night, ma'am. ::drives off, wondering the truth in any of that::

Should I have given her the money? You might think "No way - she just wanted money for drugs or booze." Why is that ALWAYS our first response? What if someone really did need a few dollars for gas or food? I've heard of people taking hitchhikers or people on the street to a gas station and buying them a meal instead of just giving them money. But let's evaluate my then-current situation, shall we?

-10:00 p.m.
-Young female alone in car
-Leaving back gate of an apartment complex, that isn't well lit

Can you say "vulnerable extreme"?? I had no idea was actually in that bag. The only "empty" seat was behind me in the driver's seat, which also reads "vulnerable!!" So in that brief moment, I compromised with my hurting heart that wanted to take her to QT and buy her 10 hot dogs and my logical brain that said "Hit the gas. Go home. GET OUT." I figured that she couldn't buy booze with $2.00...so that's what I did.

The rest of my 10 minute drive home (props to the Lord for giving me a boyfriend who is CLOSE to me!), I thought about the thousands of homeless people in Cobb County and Atlanta. I wish I could bring them all to my apartment and feed them crackers, Diet Cokes and cookies (welcome to the diet of a 26 year old who doesn't cook). But I also know that if I stopped and helped people like the lady tonight, I'm putting myself in real danger. I know the Lord protects and provides, don't you start preaching at me. However, I feel like I should evaluate the situation and if I feel like it's safe, then sure, I'll do what I can. But most times, I find myself in situations like that and it's dark and I'm alone. And my scaredy-cat-ness takes over and I just think "GET OUT. GET OUT. GET OUT." Is this a bad reaction? I kind of feel bad for NOT feeling bad about my actions tonight. She could have easily walked to QT herself. But what did she really do? I'll never know. But I DO know that I did what I felt was right at that moment. I will (try not to) not feel bad about it.

So as I sit here in my (sweet boyfriend's) (Georgia Tech) T-shirt and (Old Navy) pajama pants, sipping a (caffeine free) Diet Coke, lounging in my (queen) bed, typing this on my (Mac) laptop and listening to (free) music on Spotify... I find myself praying for the homeless people across my county, region, state, country and world. I have so much in this world that thousands of people would give EVERYTHING to have. Am I appreciative of it? Do I say "Thank You" enough - and mean it? I have so much, yet I find myself wanting more. When did I become so selfish?

Lord, please be with those who are without tonight. Provide opportunities to them and help them make wise decisions. Forgive my selfish desires and greedy heart. Help me to DAILY choose to be more than satisfied with what I have. We are so undeserving.

Nope, there's nothing new with me.

Life.

It's tough. And frustrating. And exhausting. And tumultuous (5 points for a big kid word!).

It's also fun. And hilarious. And rewarding. And full.

Life lately has been whirlwind. When someone asks me "What's new in your life?", I honestly don't know how to answer that. I actually go over in my head my routines and nothing is really new. Here's how it goes:

5:45ish am: I peel myself out of bed and take Elphie out. Then I drag myself into the shower and get ready for work.

7:00 - 4:00: I'm at work. And work is never predictable. One day could be quiet and calm and allow me to get a lot of things done that keep falling lower on the priority list. And the next day could be a madhouse, running around like crazy preparing for an upcoming program day or trip. Oy.

4:15ish pm: I'm at home, taking Elphie out. Then I promptly plop myself onto the couch (gym? what's a gym?) and A) catch up on DVR'd shows, B) watch what came in on NetFlix or C) watch Law & Order and How I Met Your Mother.

6:30 pm: BOYFRIEND TIME!!

And that's it. Pretty predictable. And I'm a-okay with that! I like routine and schedules. It keeps me balanced. And we all need a little balance in our lives, right?

But life is still a whirlwind. When did it become August? Who said that was okay? Really. The ONLY reason it's okay is because August means my birthday! I love birthdays. LOVE them. It's the only day out of the year that should be/is dedicated to you. I realize that it's not always the case (like when you have little bits running around, needing to be fed and changed and loved and fed and changed and napped and fed and changed...you get the idea). But I still love birthdays.

Here's a random thought: why do some people post blogs and NEVER capitalize the first letter of the sentence? Where did grammar go wrong? I *tried* to write in all lower caps but it. just. didn't. work. (that was tough - trust me). I try and be clever like all you lower-case writers and leave Facebook comments and Twitter posts in lower caps, but I really don't think I come across cool like the rest of you people. I think it just looks weird and unintelligent. Does that make me neurotic? Or weird? Or both?

If you made it to this sentence in my post, you must REALLY have nothing to do. I apologize for the mundane update and meaningless ramblings. I'm not even going to post this update on Twitter or Facbeook. It's just not worth it.

Beware of the weepyness

Is that even a word? Weepyness. It could be defined as an almost constant leakage of the eyes. (My friend David used to say that I was "leaking" when I was crying...strange, but kind of true.)

Beware, friends. I'm in a constant state of weepyness right now. Tuesday, June 14th, will mark the 2 year anniversary of my sweet brother's passing. I can't think of anything else but what I was doing 2 years ago at this time.

I was finally feeling comfortable in my job. After being there for a year, I was getting "in my groove" and things were going just dandy. I was living in Cumming with my friend, Christie, and we were loving life. Things seemed to be going just fine.

Friday, June 12th at approximately 4:15 p.m.... my life took a dramatic 180 degree turn in the totally wrong direction. I called my dad to say hi and to chat and turns out, they were on their way to the hospital. So instead of getting on 285 to go home, I got on 75 South to drive the painfully familiar route to Egleston. I remember calling an old friend from college and just crying the whole way (thanks Tyler). I finally got to CHOA and met Dad outside so he could walk me to the ER. When I saw Jacob, I just wanted to take him and run in the opposite direction. I wanted to get him as far away from that place as I could.

I plan to write more this weekend, on the actual anniversary dates. But I wanted to address the state of weepyness I have found myself in. You may feel inclined to say "Snap out of it!" and to that I would respond with "#@$%*(&^@". This is my life now. Meltdowns are unpredictable. Grief is omnipresent. (yeah, I threw a church word at you. what.) A piece of my heart is forever missing. Nothing can change this. I have spent the last 2 years trying to find ways to deal with this "new normal" and I'm STILL searching for that new routine. So if you catch me in a state of weepyness, I'm most likely thinking about one of the following:

I look at pictures of Jacob and I immediately flashback to sitting beside him after his second transplant, just holding his hand. Mom had to step out for a few minutes, so I went back there to be with him. He wasn't really awake but every once and a while, he would squeeze my hand ever so lightly.

::sorry, no picture of this. It's only in my heart::

I look at pictures of Tucker and instantly bring up the moment Jacob met his baby nephew. Tuck knows who Jake is, can recognize pictures of him and sleeps with a blanket Jake made him.

When I look at Libby Kate, I always have a fleeting thought that she will never know her sweet Uncle Jacob. BUT, I believe with every fiber of my being that he is her guardian angel and watches over her. I'm not a mystical person but I do believe that Jacob looks over Libby Kate with special care. And I know that Ben and Beth will tell her all about him and she will know how much she loves him. It still hurts to know that she will never know his deep laugh or be able to compare scars with him. There is odd comfort in the fact that she now has a matching scar on her side from surgery shortly after she was born. Call me weird, but I think it's really sweet. Just like her.

And when I hear ANY song from Wicked, I'm brought back to the night the 4 of us went to see it at the Fox. Jacob and I sang EVERY word and we listened to it on the way to the Fox and back. And wouldn't you know that the season finale of Glee had the song "For Good" in it? Of course I sobbed my way through it, but that's to be expected. Jacob will always be with me, "like a handprint on my heart..."

I want to share the picture below. It was the moment that I saw Ben after Jacob died. Ben and Beth and Tucker were en route to Georgia when Jacob died and were unfortunately unable to be there. (btw - Texas needs to be a LOT closer to Georgia. Just. Sayin.) I was waiting just outside the waiting room with some friends when Ben rounded the corner. I ran straight to him and just hugged him. I didn't want to let go. At. All. One of my friends took this picture with their cell phone and sent it to me a few months later. I know you may think it's weird to take a picture of grieving siblings but I will always treasure this picture.

Deep breaths

Take a deep breath. I'm talking a REALLY deep breath. What do you feel? Your lungs expanding, bringing in air? Or do you feel more?

I feel:

Hope
Relief
Peace
Clarity
Confidence
Hope
Encouragement
Determination
Satisfaction
Life
Hope
Love
Honesty

Hope.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a clown (btw - not a fan of clowns), riding a unicycle (I don't have great balance), juggling plates that are balancing on tall, skinny poles. How's that for a mental picture?

But then I take a deep breath and remind myself that I am only human. I am one person who can only handle so much and when it's too much... I have to take a deep breath. I see other people around me, juggling so much more and I just do not understand how they do it. Somedays I can barely handle my own life.

But then I take a deep breath. And move forward.

Playlist

On a beautifully warm day like today, it's almost a crime to NOT be outside. But after this outrageously busy week, all I wanted to do was stay on the couch and watch mindless TV. Grief manifests itself in those who grieve in many different ways. One of the ways I'm effected by this annoyingly constant companion is the desire to do absolutely nothing. It takes every last ounce of energy in me to make it through a week without a breakdown or without going totally bonkers. So on Saturday morning/afternoon, I want nothing to do with anything. But because it's so pretty outside, I forced my lazy butt up and went to the Chattahoochee river for a walk. 

A while back, I created a playlist on iTunes titled "Workout Music." Don't be fooled - I don't work out regularly. This playlist contains songs that are upbeat or encouraging or downright silly. When I got to the river, I plugged in my headphones, did a few stretches and set out on the path. The songs that accompanied me on my three mile (yes - THREE MILE) walk all have sentimental value to me (even Black Eyes Peas...) and I fully believe Jacob had a hand in picking the songs that filled my ears.

"I Stand Amazed" - Candi Pearson Shelton

"Why Don't We Just Dance" - Josh Turner

"Alone" - Heart

"Hosanna" - Christy Nockels

"One Step At A Time" - Jordin Sparks

"Don't Rain On My Parade" - Glee 

"What A Girl Wants" - Christina Aguilera

"P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)" - Danny Gokey (from American Idol)

"Empty Me" - Chris Sligh

"Taylor, the Latte Boy" - Kristin Chenoweth

"When The Stars Go Blue" - Tyler Hilton & Bethany Joy Galeotti

"Revolution" - Rascal Flatts

"I Gotta Feeling" - Black Eyed Peas

"None But Jesus" - Christy Nockels

"I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) - Whitney Houston

Memories...

I keep thinking about a new blog post...thinking about what I want write about, what feelings I need to let out, what pent up emotions need to be released. And the only thing I can really think of is:

I really miss my brother.

Jacob was my best friend and most favorite companion. When we were little, we used to play this game where we would "knight" each other. I don't really remember the point or who created it, but I just remember this one picture of me sitting in a chair, holding a glittery baton, and Jake is on the floor, kneeling in front of me. I'm sure we thought it was the best game and probably played it a lot.

When I was a senior at McEachern, Jacob was a freshman and he rode to school with me. We also picked up a friend nearby, Rachel. Every year, we had a choral festival and that year, it was hosted at McEachern.

**I am a rule-keeper. I was born with a tremendous respect for authority and hate getting in trouble. The following story is one of rebellion and rule-breaking. Mom and Dad, if you're just now hearing about this, I am truly sorry for disappointing you.**

During a free period, some friends and I were talking about lunch and how much we did NOT want cafeteria food. They peer-pressured me into driving to Wendy's for lunch. After sneaking out the back of the auditorium and dodging campus security, I burned rubber out of the parking lot and down to Wendy's. After a hamburger and fries (which I'm pretty sure I did NOT enjoy), we headed back to school. I went to pull into my assigned parking space...and someone was in my space. Getting over the panicked shock, I parked in someone else's spot on the other side of the lot. When the bell rang at the beginning of the year, I raced to my car and pulled it around front so Jacob wouldn't know the difference and tattle...but I had to park in the spot next to mine. Of COURSE he noticed and I swore him to secrecy that he wouldn't tell the parentals. At dinner that night, Mom asked us how school was and what we had for lunch (still not sure why she asked...) and I looked at Jacob and said "A hamburger." His eyes sparkled with our secret and we moved on with dinner.

When I was a senior in college, Jake was a freshman and this time, I LOVED having him on the same campus as me. I loved walking in the student union and seeing Jake in there with his buddies. He would see me and holler "HEY SISTER!" I loved that...so much. One night, I was really upset about something (and not sharing it here...) and I walked in the FSU for a residence life meeting. Jacob was sitting in there and I went straight to him and crawled in his lap, and cried. I'm sure we were quite the picture - a 21 year old sister and her 18 year old little brother who was rocking her like a baby. It's one of my fondest memories.


I miss my brother. Life is not the same without being able to call him up and tell him about life and my dog and my apartment. There are moments in the day where I just have to stop and dwell in my grief. Yes - it still affects me. Yes - I still struggle with it. But I'm becoming quite good at faking it. Most days...