Us Without You

Who Am I?

2012-01-16T13:54:00.002-06:00

In the weeks leading up to January 13th, the third anniversary of Chris’s death, I found myself having slightly less of a pity party than I have in the past. I don’t want to diminish the heartbreak that I experience at the reality of losing Chris. It’s just that I seemed to be less focused on the intense pain of my situation this year and more on the process I have undergone since his death. Instead of focusing on why I am a widow, I reflected on who I have become as a widow.

At 5:00 p.m. on the night Chris went to the ER, I was a mom who was feeling overwhelmed that I was about to have two babies under the age of two. I was feeling alone because Chris, who had been an extremely involved dad in the past, was gradually becoming less hands on. His excitement about a new baby coming also seemed to wane and I was hurt at what I thought was his indifference. In fact, earlier in the day, I had a teary conversation with my sister because I was feeling like my life was pretty rough.

By 8:00 p.m. that night, I had an explanation for the subtle changes in Chris’s personality. I quickly became the terrified wife of a man who had just learned he had two masses in is head. Every time I went to the bathroom in the ER that night (being 9 months pregnant, there were plenty of visits), I stared at the tear-streaked face of the woman in the mirror who was having her world rocked. I didn’t know it then, but I was the woman in training for widowhood.

In the weeks and months that followed Chris’s death, I was the young mother who functioned in a haze of numbness and relied on a team of people to get her through the day. I was the “poor widow” who needed meals delivered to her house, her laundry washed for her and her groceries purchased for her. By the end of that first year, I was the widow who was becoming more capable of keeping her head afloat in the sea of chaos. I became the single mother (a much despised label a few months earlier) who managed a large support network of friends and family. And I became the woman who managed to organize a fundraiser for the first anniversary of Chris’s death (mostly for the selfish reason that it kept me very distracted from reality).

In the time since that first anniversary, I have added new layers to the post-widowhood woman I have become. I have become the woman who expects an attack of grief to hit at the most unexpected times and at the most inappropriate of places. I have become the woman who gradually stopped cringing at the word “daddy” and fell in love with hearing her children say it. I have become the woman who is comfortable telling other preschool parents that her husband died.

I have become the woman who is determined that her children will be happy and well-adjusted despite their circumstances. I have become the woman who is capable of juggling work, child rearing, fundraising and a fairly full social life. I have become the woman who sees more than an empty void in her future.

I am not the woman who believes her life is over because her spouse is gone. I am not the woman who is “over” her husband’s death. I am not the woman who thinks this part of my life will be erased if I remarry. I am not the woman who thinks this process will be all tidied up within a certain timeframe. I am the woman who sadly acknowledges that my husband dying would probably make me a better partner to someone else. I am the woman who has learned some hard lessons and recognizes that this won’t exempt her from experiencing more of them in the future. And now, I have become the woman who feels compelled to help others through this process.

January 13th will always be a complex day for me. While it represents the death of one, it also signifies the rebirth of another. Yes, I am a widow. But, thankfully, I have also become so much more.

A Widow's Voice Post

2011-12-22T14:30:00.002-06:00

I am the guest writer on Widow's Voice today. Check it out if you are interested!

A New Venture

2011-12-16T14:00:00.001-06:00

You'll notice I still haven't posted the update I promised over Thanksgiving weekend. Please forgive me. I think you'll understand why after this post.

I have been working on a very special project with my friend, Laura Dennis, for about six months. We decided we wanted to reach out to other young widows in our area since there really aren't any organizations that do this locally. It has been a time consuming but very rewarding process as we brought our organization to life. As you can imagine, I'm very passionate about helping others who are in this situation. And Laura and I also feel this is a wonderful way to honor the memory of our spouses.

The organization is called Chicagoland Young Widowed Connection (CYWC). We have lots of great ideas and plans for the future. We are in the process of incorporating as a non-profit and will soon start the process of applying as a tax-exempt organization.

Please check out the website and let me know if you have any feedback. And also please pass this on to anyone who think may benefit from our group.

Thanks for your help!

P.S. One of these days, I'll get around to writing that update!

Its Been Ages...

2011-11-22T09:42:00.000-06:00

I know it is has been ages since I've posted an update. Life keeps getting in the way:). I promise to post an update on lots of things over Thanksgiving weekend.

In the meantime, check out my guest blog on Widow's Voice today.

Have a great Thanksgiving!

And Guest

2011-07-15T00:24:00.000-05:00

Not long after Chris died, I received a wedding invitation addressed to "Wendy and Guest." It was one of the first visual affronts to my newly-acquired widowed senses. I remember looking at the envelope and wondering, "Who the heck is Wendy and Guest?"

I certainly sympathize with the couple who sent the invitation. I'm confident that they struggled with how to address it as well. They really couldn't win. Address it to just me, making it obvious that my husband really was dead, and expect me to endure the beginning of their happily-ever-after all alone? Or address it as they did, making it obvious that most people attend weddings as one half of a pair, but allow me to make the decision as to whether or not to drag some poor soul along. I wound up not attending the wedding at all partly because I couldn't bear the thought of how painful it would be (regardless of how honestly happy I was for the couple) and partly because I had no idea who I would bring. My mom? My sister? My 2-year-old son?

Part of the sting of this situation is that I got married at the age of 34. I went to many a wedding as "Wendy and Guest" and a lot of times it was just "Wendy." When I married Chris, I thought my "and Guest" days were over. It never occurred to me that I would be relegated back to this god forsaken place of no guaranteed dance partner so soon. I don't like being in this place (can you hear the temper tantrum starting?). This place is filled with uncertainty about whether I will ever go anywhere again as something other than "Wendy and Guest." Let's face it, this place is....lonely.

After two and a half years, I think it is finally starting to dawn on me that life is going on without Chris. As much as I want him here with me, my life is moving forward and I am starting to envision what the next phase will look like. Instead of seeing "Wendy and Guest", I'm starting to see "Wendy and _____." I guess that is what some people might call healing. And that is a good thing.

By the way, if you are inviting me to an event before _______ appears, invitations addressed to "Wendy and George Clooney", "Wendy and Hugh Jackman", or "Wendy and Patrick Dempsey" will be perfectly acceptable.

A Conversation with the Other Side of the Bed

2011-04-03T22:16:00.002-05:00

Screw you.

Yeah, you.

Don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about.

Nice...just lay there and look all vacant and pitiful like you always do. Like you have for the last two plus years.

I hate that you are always cold to the touch when my carefully placed hand accidentally brushes up against you. I loathe the way you have now become a receptacle for stray papers, extra clothes and random toys. I despise the fact that, even if someone else lays on you again someday, you will always be without your rightful owner.

Yes, I know I'm welcome to move over to your side at any time but it just doesn't feel right. I sleep on the right side of the bed not the left. You know that by now. And no, having a three-year-old occupy your space once in awhile does not make up for the constant reminder that you are. It does not make me forget the unforgettable absence. Nothing does.

I know I could get rid of you. I could sell you, downsize to a smaller bed, get rid of the memories. But, darn it, for all your faults, you are so comfortable to sleep on. And as much as I hate to admit it, you are pretty good looking.

So, Other Side of the Bed, after fighting with you and myself for the last 27 months, I have decided that you and your better half need a make over. Now you are both pretty and feminine and not quite as depressing.

I guess I should look on the bright side. At least you don't snore.

P.S. Do you have any idea how hard it is to fold king size sheets all by yourself?

"You Be Daddy"

2011-03-21T23:07:00.000-05:00

Just as I was getting (somewhat) used to Ian talking more about Chris, Claire has already started talking about him. I'm not ready for this!

Claire just turned two in January so I thought I had a good year before I really had to deal with questions from her. And so far, I'm right. But, being the perceptive girl that she is, she clearly has picked up on the discussions Ian and I have had about daddy. She hasn't asked any questions yet but she has been "talking" to Chris and playing this interesting game that I'll call, "You be daddy."

The other day, the three of us were in the backyard kicking a ball around. I kicked it to Ian and then he kicked it to Claire. She wasn't really paying attention though and I noticed she was staring off into space. All of a sudden, she said, "Ok, daddy. We play together." (Did you just get goosebumps? I certainly did). Then she kicked the ball to me and said, "Here, daddy!" and every time I would kick or throw the ball back to her, she would say, "Thanks, daddy!" After awhile, she stopped playing, looked up at the sky, twirled around and said, "Ok, daddy!" To say that I was a little freaked out by this encounter is an understatement. It was like she was talking directly to him...and he was talking to her.

Everyday since that day, she has randomly said to me, "You be daddy." And then she'll say something like, "I go shopping now. Bye, daddy!" Now, I know logically that this game to her is no different than pretending she is Dora and I am Diego. But, oh how it stings to hear her do this. It is no ordinary game to me and I have to say, at this point, I don't enjoy playing it. I hope that changes some day because she seems determined to keep on playing!

You Didn't Think I'd Include a Picture With This One, Did You?

2011-03-11T01:34:00.000-06:00

Today, Ian said, "Mommy, I want to pee standing up." He has been practicing this "skill" with Tante lately. I followed him to the bathroom where he proceeded to do his business, albeit quite awkwardly. How should I phrase this? The "necessary equipment" barely clears the toilet and it is altogether funny and scary to watch him attempt to complete his mission. But he did it and after I showered him with all the appropriate accolades, he said, "Don't flush the toilet! I want to show Claire!"

He yelled to Claire, who was in my bedroom watching a movie, and said, "Claire, come here. I have a surprise for you!" (A surprise indeed, I thought). Then he went to get her and as she climbed down from my bed, he took her hand. They walked together hand in hand to the bathroom, he naked and her totally unsuspecting of what awaited her.

When they got into the bathroom, he said, "Look in there, Claire. I did that STANDING UP!" Claire, the typical adoring little sister, responded with, "Wow!" and then, "Flush potty?" "NO!," Ian said. "I'll flush the toilet" and he did. And Claire, the ever mimicking little girl, ended this hysterical encounter with, "Good job, Ian!"

Good job both of you. You reminded mommy once again why she is so blessed to have both of you in her life:).

"Daddy Taught Me"

2011-03-07T21:46:00.000-06:00

For those who didn't know Chris, you might not realize that he was very involved in the Norwegian community in Chicago. He danced with a Norwegian folk dance group since he and his siblings were kids and took on the role of instructor as an adult. Most of his best friends were from dancing and other Scandinavian groups. This usually comes as a surprise to people considering he was German and Bohemian and was often mistaken for either Italian or Greek. But he and his family were honorary Scandos and Chris did so much for the community that the year we got married, he was the Grand Marshal in the Norwegian Independence Day parade. The parade was only a few weeks after we returned from our honeymoon and we got to sit in a convertible and be driven through Park Ridge and wave at people during the parade. It was quite humorous...the German/Bohemian Grand Marshal and his Irish/Polish/German/French wife led the parade. Not an experience I thought I'd ever have. Anyway, I digress from the whole point of this post.

A few weeks ago, one of Chris's dancing friends, Jill, invited us to Pancakes with Pippi Longstocking at the Swedish American museum (bet you didn't know Pippi was Swedish...I didn't either). We enjoyed Swedish pancakes, did some arts and crafts, went on a treasure hunt and explored the children's section of the museum. It was a very fun morning.

Ian and Pippi

During the arts and crafts activity, Ian picked up a pair of safety scissors and starting cutting a piece of paper. I assume he learned this skill from preschool but I had never seen him do it before. I said to him, "Ian, great job cutting! Who taught you how to do that?", to which he replied, "Daddy!" Surprised, I managed to sputter out, "Oh, okay."

2 seconds after I snapped this picture, the scissors were promptly
removed from Claire's hands

The other day, I took Ian to Home Depot with me. He used the facilities there and I congratulated him on going to the bathroom in a store. We were giving each other high fives and he said, "High five! Down low!" and when I went to slap his hand, he pulled it away and said, "Too slow!" Knowing that his Uncle Frank does that with him often I said, "You goofball! Who taught you that?" and again, he said with a huge smile on his face, "Daddy!" This time I was a little more prepared and just said, "Great!"

These incidents are fascinating to me. I have heard that children who are very young when their parent dies think they have memories of them because of all the stories they hear. But these weren't events that had occurred and that I had told him about. He just created these memories on his own. Memories of quality time he spent with his dad that never happened and will never happen. On one hand, it saddens me that he will never get to have these experiences with Chris. On the other hand, there is some comfort in his confidence that they really happened. I just wish I could bottle him up at this age so he could believe in the fairy tale forever. Some day soon he is going to figure out that "and they lived happily ever after" isn't exactly accurate. For now though, I'll cherish the times he mentions Chris and try to picture some of that fairy tale myself.

This is us without you, Chris. Keep the lessons coming.

For My Valentine...

2011-02-14T21:57:00.000-06:00

I will be volunteering again this year at ABTA's Path to Progress walk/run. Even though I won't be a walker or runner, I am able to raise funds virtually. Today, I set up my personal fundraising page and you are welcome to visit it. Any donations you make would be greatly appreciated!

To get to my page, click on the link above under the sentence, "Help Me Raise Funds for the ABTA!"

This is my Valentines Day present, Chris. I love you.

Happy Late Birthday, Claire

2011-02-04T23:50:00.000-06:00

I realized the other day that I hadn't written a post about Claire for her 2nd birthday. This horrifies me a little bit because I have done it for both of Ian's birthdays since Chris died. I don't want Claire to be the stereotypical second child and get the short end of the stick...even more so because of our circumstances.

I know why this oversight happened. There is something so incredibly painful for me about Ian's birthday as opposed to Claire's birthday. You would think it would be the opposite. I thought it would be the opposite. The minute I heard Chris's diagnosis, I thought I would never be able to celebrate Claire's birthday since she was born in the midst of this storm. I was certain that, at best, her birthday would be bittersweet and that, at worst, it would be well, just bitter. But as it turns out, while her birthday is sad for me because Chris isn't here to experience it, the two that she has had so far haven't been nearly as traumatic as I thought they would be. But Ian's birthdays...they are a different story.

Each time his birthday approaches, I relive the excitement Chris and I were feeling at meeting our first child. I recount every hour of the day before he was born from having mild contractions while reading the last installment of the Harry Potter series to going to bed without eating dinner per instructions from my sister (so I wouldn't get sick during labor). I recall waking up at 3 a.m. on July 22nd in real labor and realizing that our Lamaze classes were a damn waste of money. I think about how we drove to the hospital in the dark calling our family to alert them to the impending delivery. And I remember the smile that could not be wiped from Chris's face once he met his son and the endless pictures and videos he took of Ian's first few hours. You see, Chris was with me for every minute of it. We were a team for Ian's birth from the minute we took the pregnancy test until the minute he finally debuted after many hours of labor and an emergency c-section.

Ian's birthday represents the most significant of dreams shattered. It is a symbol of what I have lost. It is such a stark contrast between what life was supposed to be and what it actually is. As with many people, Ian's birth was the defining moment in Chris's life. After four and a half decades of being on his own, he was finally complete...a husband and a father. And then a mere 17 months later, he was robbed of the ability to live this new rich and fulfilling life. And it is because of this that I feel the need each year to write about it. I grasp at the shared experience Chris and I had together and feel the need to update him about the days, and now, years he has missed in Ian's life.

On the other hand, if I am honest with myself, I admit to feeling on my own at certain periods throughout my pregnancy with Claire. At the time, I thought those feelings were the result of hormone fluctuations or fatigue at being very pregnant while caring for a toddler. I didn't realize until months after Chris died that the times he seemed not quite as in tune with this pregnancy as he was with Ian's were because of the brain tumors. His lack of emotion at times was a direct result of where one of the tumors was located--on the top of the brain which effects personality and affect. And of course, by the time we were two weeks from Claire's birth, the grim prognosis loomed over our heads.

I went into the delivery room for Claire's birth with my mom instead of Chris. In fact, I made the decision pretty much without him that that was the way it was going to be. He wasn't truly capable at that point of sitting around for a few hours waiting for a c-section to start and the hospital staff made it known that they preferred for him not to be in the room. He closed his eyes and nodded when I told him it would be best if he came to the hospital once she was born. He just didn't have it in him to be any more involved than that or to even debate it. I knew the score when I was wheeled into the operating room on January 3, 2009. Unlike when I entered that same room 17 months prior, I knew what the immediate future held for me: widowhood and single motherhood. And for better or worse, these reasons make me sometimes forget that I wasn't truly alone during that time. I did have a partner who would have been there 100% throughout the whole experience if he could have been. And so today I feel the need to share with Chris (and anyone else who cares to know) all the wonderful ways Claire has blessed my life.

Claire is a sweetie pie (just ask Ian...he called her that the other day). She has this adorable little voice that she puts to lots of good use. She talks tons these days. I mean, you can really have a conversation with her. She has always been extremely communicative. I remember an experience that really drove this home early on. When she was four weeks old, I brought her with me to my first grief support group meeting. Someone in the group said something funny (believe it or not) and everyone laughed. Claire had been resting her head on my shoulder and when she heard everyone laugh, she raised her head and smiled this open mouth smile as if she was laughing along. I think it is safe to say she is a people person.

Claire likes to finish the sentences of her favorite books (currently Gossie & Gertie and any Biscuit story). She loves to sing or hum along with any song. Even if she doesn't know it she pretends like she does. She is a bit of a tube head and has certain movies and t.v. shows she is partial to (Dora, Fireman Sam and Wonder Pets). She is quite attached to her brother, her granny and her mommy. She has a blankie she drags everywhere that she calls "boppy." She sleeps late (for a toddler). She tries most new food and loves broccoli, cherries and any type of potato.

Claire is a daredevil. She will climb anything and jumps into most new experiences without fear. She can't wait to go to preschool like Ian. She is almost potty trained. She has always liked hats but has just recently started to really enjoy playing "dress up." One of her favorite past times is stealing Ian's toys. She could identify a few colors when she was 18 months old and knows all of them now. She can count to 3 (and then skips to 6, 8 and 10). She loves babies and dogs. She is just smart and funny and a joy to be around. And this is how she has changed over the last year...

At the Chris Diez Memorial Concert

Queen of Hats

Looking like her brother (except for the hat and dress)

First haircut

Seriously, makes everything into a hat

Bad hair day

Finally enough hair to make teeny weeny pigtails

Wearing mommy's dress from when she was a little girl

Visiting daddy on Father's Day

Chocoholic like mommy

More hats!

Visiting the pumpkin patch

Happy Thanksgiving

Enjoying a Christmas bagel

At gymnastics class

Ashamed Bears fan!

Happy late birthday, Claire. Mommy promises to keep letting daddy know how special you are to both of us.

The Second 365 Days

2011-01-13T01:56:00.001-06:00

Two years.

I'm officially a widow of two years.

No longer in the rawness of grief, the numbness of disbelief or the haziness of confusion that encompassed the first 365 days of my widowhood, my ability to function as a "civilian" increases everyday. Do I like that fact? Yes and no. Yes, it is good to know that I have already run many miles of the grief marathon (and enjoyed it about as much as I enjoy actual running). And yet, the further away I get from the day Chris died, the further away I get from our life together. His voice becomes a little less memorable, his smile is harder to conjure up, his laugh rings out less often in my mind and his touch is barely recalled on my skin. This is the reality of death. This is the reality I shake my fist at in frustration and anger.

There are so many times that I wish I could sit down with Chris for just one more conversation. It would be a super loooooong conversation maybe lasting a few days. I would do anything to hear his voice again and his clear opinion on something (even though I can pretty much guess what his thoughts would be on many topics). I long to update him on mundane daily events, on the kids' milestones, on my own personal growth over the last two years. I would especially love to share with him everything that has happened during the second 365 days of my widowhood. Last year was about survival and the denial of time marching forward. This year was about moving towards the future with a glimmer of hope that happiness will reveal itself in my life.

If I could have one more conversation with Chris, I would tell him how I have managed more than one home improvement project this year including the renovation of a basement and the resolution of a nightmare plumbing problem. I would make sure he knows that even though Granny moved in to help us out, no one will ever replace his position in our family. And I would let him know that although we added to our family with Granny, we also lost the furry member of the group (Luna is still alive but has been relocated...more on this another time).

If I could have one more conversation with Chris, I would explain why I felt it was time for me to pack away his clothes for now so that I could utilize our closet more efficiently. I would tell him how I decided one day that my wedding ring didn't feel quite right on my finger any more but that I miss it every time I look down at my hand. I would relate the bittersweet hours I spent sorting through his books, music, and movies deliberating the fate of each one along the way -- keep for myself or the kids, give to his friends or family, or sell/donate.

If I could have one more conversation with Chris, I would make sure he knew that we celebrated his 50th birthday this year in the best way we knew how and that celebrating my 40th birthday didn't feel like much of a celebration at all. I would tell him about the many inspiring women and men I have met in the widowed community who have helped keep me going during the tough times.

If I could have one more conversation with Chris, I would explain how for the first 365 days of this journey, I kept many things in my life just as they had been with him. I did things because I thought he would want me to do them. And then I would tell him that during the second 365 days, I realized that what he would really want me to do would be whatever is best for our family. Even if it meant changes to our original plans or leaving the choir because of time constraints and my desire to share the experience of the Mass with our children.

And speaking of our children, if I could have one more conversation with Chris, I would tell him again and again and again that he gave me the best gift possible in life. I would share with him all the funny things that our little man, Ian, says and the all the ways our sweet, now two year old, Claire brightens my day.

And when I was done talking, I would wait for the sure sign that Chris approves of the ways the second 365 days have unfolded -- a simple nod of the head. And I would start planning for how the third 365 days will take shape.

But for now, since I can't have that conversation with Chris, I will just say, "This is us without, you, Chris. We love and miss you."

Damn December 22nd

2010-12-22T14:29:00.000-06:00

Two years ago today, I took Chris to the ER because of his headaches. Expecting a long wait once we got there, I packed us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and brought along the crossword puzzle. He was eating his sandwich and doing the puzzle with me right before they called him into the examining room. The nurse that escorted him asked me to wait until he got situated before going back. So, I sat with my friend, Katie, who works at the hospital. We talked about Christmas plans, our sons, our average everyday lives. I wasn't at all prepared for the flurry of events that came next.

Blood work, CT scans, family converging on the hospital at the advice of doctors, talk of "masses" on the brain, grave looks on the faces of the medical professionals around me, consults with neurosurgeons, immediate admittance to the ICU, holidays destroyed, lives turned upside down, dreams up in flames.

I think I will carry around the dread of this day with me forever. The day I first realized "widow" would soon be my new title.

THE Conversation

2010-09-09T00:34:00.000-05:00

While driving home from lunch with the kids yesterday, an ambulance passed us with its sirens wailing. This prompted an unexpectedly emotional conversation between Ian and myself starting with Ian saying,

“Maybe that ambulance is going to the hospital.” He has a new understanding of the purpose of ambulances. This education was provided by a ride in one over the weekend to take him, Granny and his fearless sister to the hospital after Claire fell onto the floor head first from a restaurant booth. She is fine and, if possible, Ian is even more obsessed with emergency vehicles than ever before.

“Yep. Maybe that ambulance is going to the hospital,” I said.

“Maybe someone is sick,” he stated, sounding slightly sympathetic.

“Maybe,” I replied again. Then for some reason unknown to me, I said, “Do you remember what happened to daddy?”

“Yes. Daddy died,” he responded matter-of-factly. The wind was momentarily knocked out of me. I only started saying the words, “daddy died” about one month ago. We have talked about daddy many, many times before and looked at lots of pictures of him. But until recently, I hadn’t told Ian that Chris died partly because he was so very young when it happened and naturally doesn’t understand what this means. I hated the thought of bringing Chris up just to tell my little guy that his daddy died. And, I freely admit, I also took so long to tell him because I knew saying the words out loud would cement the reality of the situation. No more turning back the clock and pretending you still live your old life once your child knows his father is dead.

“That’s right. He died in a hospital,” I said after I caught my breath.

“He died in a hospital? I thought he died at my house. Was it a tall hospital?” he pondered. Wow…does he remember being at the hospital the night Chris died? It was in fact a tall hospital. What made him ask that question?

“It was a tall hospital, honey.”

“Why? Why did he die in the hospital?” Ian wanted to know.

“Well, he was in the hospital because he had an operation on his head…because there was something in his head that was making him sick,” I stammered.

“What? What was making him sick?” Shit, I thought. Do I really have to use the words “brain tumor” already?

“He had a brain tumor.” (Technically, he had two but no need to throw that into the mix yet).

“Why?” Ian said again, posing the million-dollar question. Wouldn’t we all like to know the answer to that one?

“I don’t know,” I said. “Sometimes people just get sick.”

“Did daddy like water?” Ian asked, shifting gears a bit.

“Um, he liked water. He liked to swim.”

“Did the water put that thing in his head?” Ian asked.

“No, honey. Sometimes people just get sick. It wasn’t from the water,” I told him.

“He’s my daddy,” Ian said proudly.

“Yes, he is,” I said, just as proudly.

“I need my daddy,” he announced. And now the tears start. Not Ian’s but mine. Shit again. Why exactly did I start this conversation? Let’s just go back to pretending daddy is on a very long business trip.

“I know, honey. I need him too,” I said softly.

“I want to talk to daddy,” he said excitedly, as if he had just come up with a great idea.

“Well, you can talk to daddy. You can tell him whatever you want. He just can’t answer,” I said, surprising myself a bit with my creativity in answering these questions. The websites, books and grief counseling must be doing some good.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because daddy died. When people die, they can’t talk to us anymore and we can’t see them anymore. But we can still talk to them as much as we want.”

“No! I want to call daddy. I want to call him on the phone!” Ian half pleaded, half yelled.

“Um…well, I can give you my phone when we get home and you can call him. He just won’t be able to answer you,” I said again, hoping he wouldn’t take me up on this offer.

Suddenly...silence from the back seat. No more questions. No more demands. Just a defeated 3-year-old soaking in the harsh facts of life.

Silence and muffled tears from the front seat. No more answers. No more creative suggestions. Just a somber nearly 40-year-old mommy reluctantly soaking in her little boy’s newfound grief and thinking, “THE conversation has happened.”

Damn Spot

2010-09-06T23:28:00.000-05:00

I decided to clean our carpets today. Actually, I decided to do it months ago but kept procrastinating because cleaning the carpets was always one of Chris's jobs. I finally accepted the fact that he really does have a good excuse for not doing it this time and got down to business myself.

I borrowed my brother-in-law's carpet cleaner and went to work in the toy room. It really wasn't that bad. The machine is a little heavy but I could handle it. When I was done, I took the cleaner upstairs to Claire's room because I knew her carpet was in really bad shape. I pulled her crib away from the wall and gasped when I saw a giant brown spot on the carpet. This was not the first time I saw this spot. It was there when the room was a guest room before Claire was born. In our preparations for turning this room into her nursery, Chris and I had removed the double bed that was in there and bought the crib. When the bed was moved, we saw the stain (and a few others throughout the room).

During the first few weeks of December of 2008, I frantically tried to finish decorating the room and asked Chris to clean the carpet and especially focus on that spot. I noticed that it took him longer than usual to start this project. He was more tired than usual and, frankly, not as helpful as I was used to him being. By the time he finally did clean the carpet, he did a really half-assed job of it. It almost looked like he hadn't cleaned it at all.

I noticed that some of the smaller stains on the carpet hadn't really come up but didn't pay attention to the status of the huge stain for some reason. I think I was too distracted with keeping Ian away from the carpet cleaner, being hugely pregnant, and feeling too exhausted to notice or care. I remember saying something like, "Well, that didn't do much good. Is that thing broken?". And Chris just--very uncharacteristically--shrugged. I dropped it knowing there were other important baby tasks to complete before Claire's birth.

So, when I saw that stain again today, I was determined to get it out. To my surprise, it wasn't difficult to remove at all. In fact, it nearly disappeared. So, why hadn't it done so when Chris tried, I thought. Then I realized...he probably didn't put any soap in the cleaner. The day he cleaned that carpet was a mere 48 hours prior to our trip to the ER for his headaches. Looking back on the few months leading up to Chris's illness, I can identify incidents of confusion, apathy and fatigue that I know now were signs of the glioblastoma. They were all incidents that could be explained away by the chaos of having a 17 month old and a baby on the way. But I was reminded again today how cruel a brain tumor is especially when it resides on the part of your brain that controls your memory and personality. It robs you of who you truly are before you are gone. And it robbed my brilliant husband of the simple ability to put soap in a carpet cleaner.

So, today I say, "Damn you, spot and damn you, glioblastoma."

What I Did This Summer: Camp Widow

2010-08-17T01:46:00.001-05:00

Laura and I at the banquet

I have taken much too long to write about Camp Widow. Please don't take that as sign that I didn't enjoy my time there because I certainly did. It just feels like I got thrown back into the shark tank immediately upon returning and haven't had any time to really process my experience.

Laura and I flew to San Diego on Wednesday. I only grabbed her in fear one time--when we landed (it was a rough landing). The city is beautiful and the weather was perfect. 70s and sunny everyday with NO humidity. Ahhhh...it was worth getting on a plane just to experience that for a few days. We took advantage of some sightseeing, some fine dining, some wine (make that slightly more than some wine), some shopping and some pampering before the conference started.

The conference kicked off on Friday night with a welcome reception. I was looking forward to finally meeting Jackie since we follow each other's blogs. We found each other quickly and she introduced Laura and I to Jennifer. They are both from California, drove to the conference together and roomed together even though they only knew each other through a mutual friend before this weekend. The four of us also connected with Irene and Mike who presented a workshop at the conference on remarriage. This brought my internet support group full-circle since Irene's blog is the other one I have followed since the beginning. The six of us spent a lot of time together during the weekend.

Irene McGoldrick and Mike Hogan

Saturday started with a keynote address by Michele Neff Hernandez, founder of SSLF. The rest of the morning and afternoon were packed with workshops. I attended workshops on the developmental stages of grief in children, anger and God, and finding a new path after your spouse's death as well as a panel presented by people who have written books about their experiences. Saturday night ended with a banquet and dinner. Some brave souls (I was not one of them) rose early Sunday morning to walk or run in a 5k in honor of their spouses and then the conference ended with a buffet breakfast. Needless to say, it was a busy few days!

During the weekend, I noticed that every conversation seemed to start with,

1) "So, how long ago did your husband die?" and

2) "What happened?"

The answers ranged from,

1) 3 months to 18 years and

2) accident, murder, war, heart attack, blood clot, ALS, and every type of cancer you can name.

Many of the 200 people there looked to be under 45 and most had children--often very young ones. There were about 10 men in attendance and many of the workshop speakers had been widowed themselves.

Jackie Bartak, Irene, Laura, Mike, Me, Jennifer Wilberding

I also took note of some of my blessings while I was at Camp. First, Laura and I were an anomaly within the group. We are so lucky to know each other, to live in the same neighborhood and have kids close to the same age. We didn't meet anyone else who had an in-person widow friendship like this. What a gift!

Second, I was able to take stock of the progress I've made since Chris's death. It was clear who the newer widows were. You could just see the recent pain on their faces and feel the intensity of their loss when speaking to them. I wanted to help them find a way to hibernate for the next year so they wouldn't have to deal with all the crap they will encounter. It was difficult to see and I recognized how hard it must have been for my friends and family to see me in that state.

Third, typing the words, "young widow" into Google over a year ago was the smartest thing I have done since Chris died (well, that and buying life insurance). This internet search led me to the Widows Voice blog and SSLF. If I hadn't used technology to seek out others like me, I would have missed out on so much. The bonds that I have formed with widows far and wide have helped sustain me on my toughest days. And seeing what some of these people have done with their grief has been truly inspiring. Michele, just for an example, has made one giant glass of lemonade out of her batch of lemons.

All in all, this was the best camping trip I've ever been on. And I've been on....none. I think I could handle this again next year:).

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2010-08-04T07:30:00.001-05:00

My widowed friend, Laura, and I are off to San Diego today for Camp Widow! The conference starts Friday so we are going to sight see for a couple of days.

Those of you who know me know that I hate flying. To put it more accurately, I'm scared to fly even though I have done it many times. Throw in the anxiety of leaving the kids for four and half days and the rainy weather and I'm sure to be a basket case by the time 12:20 p.m. approaches.

Please send your prayers and well wishes my way for a safe and life-giving trip.

:)

Dear Chris (part 2)

2010-07-23T00:59:00.005-05:00

Dear Chris-

People tell me that you are looking down on us from Heaven. I hope that is true but it doesn't change the fact that I'd prefer you were here, looking us in the eyes instead. I would have really loved for you to celebrate Ian's birthday with us today. Lovely as your current accommodations surely are, I'm pretty confident that you'd like hanging out with us too. We've become a tight knit little threesome but we'd happily make room for you in our lives, honey.

Since you were only blessed with 17 months of being Ian's daddy on earth, I want to catch you up on the comings and goings of your sweet little boy.

Ian is like YOU.
He loves trains, books and all types of music.
He makes a good pirate.
He doesn't like vegetables.
He observes situations before jumping into the action.
He has a silly sense of humor and loves an audience.
He is stubborn (or as you liked to call it, "strong willed").
He is particular--about where his books go, where his toys go, what he eats for breakfast.
He is one smart cookie.
He has your eyes and eyebrows (you can imagine how I like to look into those eyes).

Ian is like ME.
He loves chocolate.
He is very expressive.
He loves to sing.
He overanalyzes things.
He likes to meet new people.
He is good at turning on the tears.
He has my mouth and my sun-adverse, fair skin.

Ian is uniquely HIMSELF.
He makes up songs with crazy lyrics.
He has to give me several kisses and hugs, a high five and say, "good luck" and "carpe diem" every time I leave him.
He has an incredible memory.
He likes to ask me if I'm happy and if I have a smile on my face.
He thinks he can speak Spanish and Polish.
He is afraid of thunder.

Most importantly, Ian is the best GIFT you ever gave me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for embarking on this adventure of parenthood with me. I'm so sorry you didn't get to experience it for very long. You would be so proud of how Ian is growing up. And I do think there is a chance he may read before kindergarten:).

I love you-

Wendy

Dear Chris (part 1)

2010-07-21T20:03:00.000-05:00

Dear Chris-

Tomorrow, our little boy turns 3 years old. A mere 3 years old and he already has experienced more monumental loss than most people.

Do you remember the day he transformed us into Mommy and Daddy? Do you remember how the first thing the nurse said when she cleaned him up was, "He has a chin dimple!" and I said, "Just like his daddy?" Do you remember how proud and excited you were when you found out we were having a boy? Do you remember threatening to name him Horst? Do you remember planning to teach him to read before he got to kindergarten? Do you remember buying him Bears onesies and registering for a baby Cubs t-shirt (the only contribution you made to the process of registering)?

Do you remember waking up with him just to change his diaper before handing him off to me to feed him in those early weeks? Do you remember marveling at his early smiles, his obvious physical strength and his undisputed brilliance? Do you remember those three months you spent on family leave when I went back to work (I'm forever grateful that you had that time with him)? Do you remember how your face lit up every time you came home and saw your little man excitedly waiting for you?

I remember and I will make sure that he knows. He will never doubt how much you loved him, how long you waited for him to come into your life and how you so badly hated to leave him.

We will always remember.

I love you forever-

Wendy

18 months ago today

2010-07-13T22:48:00.000-05:00

at about this time, I watched my husband take his final breath. I was lying next to him (as best I could with a fresh c-section incision) in the hospital bed. It happened so subtly I almost couldn't tell that he had actually died until the nurse said, "He's gone." I still remember her name...Natalie. She was so sweet. You could see her whole body deflate when she learned that Chris was not only the father of a newborn but a 17 month old as well. There was a moment where she seemed to think that Chris was reacting to stimuli and she paged a doctor. I felt a flicker of hope even though I knew it was highly unlikely. Sure enough, as quickly as the flicker of hope was lit, it went out as she realized he was still non-responsive. You could tell she really, really, really wanted him to live. Almost as much as I did.

I woke up this morning with an almost physical aching for Chris. I had a dream about him but I can't remember the specifics. I forgot that today was 18 months until my mom reminded me. I guess my body remembered.

This is us without you, Chris. 18 months...we miss you.

Guest Writing

2010-07-05T07:26:00.000-05:00

I'm the guest writer on Widows Voice today.

I appreciate the opportunity to share!

Countdown to Camp Widow

2010-07-04T23:48:00.000-05:00

One month from today, I leave for San Diego to attend Camp Widow, a weekend long gathering of widows from around the world. This is the second annual widows conference sponsored by the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation. You can learn more about it by clicking here.

Aside from the fact that I have to get on an airplane (I hate to fly), I am super excited about this trip. It will be a great opportunity to actually meet a lot of other widows who I have connected with online. The weekend will be packed full of activities including workshops, an awards banquet and a 5k walk/run in honor of our spouses. And it is held in beautiful San Diego!

I will be attending the conference with my friend, Laura, who lives in my neighborhood and lost her husband last August. She has two young boys and is also a stay-at-home mom so we have a lot in common (some things we'd rather not). We are heading to San Diego early so we can spend two days checking out the city (if anyone has suggestions of places to see, let me know).

The countdown is on. San Diego, here we come!

June 28

2010-06-28T08:12:00.000-05:00

I just realized that on this day 6 years ago, Chris proposed at the Botanical Gardens. We went to dinner afterwards at La Sardine, our favorite French restaurant and site of our first date.

It seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago.

17 months, 22 days

2010-06-25T09:28:00.000-05:00

That is how old Claire is today. That is exactly how old Ian was the day that Chris died. It is so strange the milestones we mark as part of this process.

There are days when I think Claire is growing up so fast--seemingly so much faster than Ian did. I'm sure part of that is because she is trying to do everything Ian does. And I know part of that is because I want to bottle her up the way she is now and keep her like that forever. No terrible twos, temper tantrums or dinner time battles to contend with (I'm talking to you, big brother!).

Then there are days when she seems like such a tiny baby. She is in full blown separation anxiety mode and chants, "Mommy" incessantly. She cuddles up on my shoulder before she goes to sleep. She clings to her blanket when she is upset. She still has adorably chubby thighs. Can this really be the age that Ian was when Chris died? He has now lived longer without his daddy than with him. That is so unfair.

Today is a painful reminder of what my beautiful kids have lost but also of how far we have come. I hear them playing with Tante in the living room right now. They are giggling like crazy. The blessing of them being so young is that they don't realize they are different from anyone else. They just live. It is me who knows the real story. But today I'll try to just live too.

Father's Day

2010-06-21T00:57:00.000-05:00

Father's Day...yippee.

There are the commercials, the sales and the restaurant specials. There are the blessings in church, the messages to dads on Facebook and the articles about celebrity dads. For crying out loud, there is even a "Happy Father's Day" message when you call directory assistance. Seems there is no escaping this thing called Father's Day.

This was our second Father's Day without Chris. That is twice as many as we had with him. Yesterday was a tough day for me. As with most significant dates and holidays, the anticipation of the day is usually worse than the actual day. I didn't want to make any plans for today (sorry, dad) because I didn't know how I was going to feel. Turns out, it was bearable.

I decided this morning that we should take a picnic lunch to the cemetery. The kids haven't been there since last Father's Day and, obviously, they didn't remember that visit. I wasn't sure how to prepare Ian this year since he still doesn't understand who daddy was or that he is dead. I was a little nervous that this could start a flood of questions. I haven't faced this yet and am very anxious about the day when he will start putting the pieces together. So, I told him we were going to a place called a cemetery and that it was like a park where we could remember Daddy. His response..."ok." Whew...that was easy.

We stopped to get flowers for the grave along the way. As luck would have it, the florist had musical instrument Christmas ornaments on sale and, most importantly, this included a tuba. This might seem random and off topic, but that is because you haven't heard that Ian is currently obsessed with tubas. He "plays" the tuba a lot while "marching" in his band (in case you are wondering, he is obsessed with marching bands too). So, we left the florist with flowers, a DAD balloon and a miniature tuba. He pretended to play that tuba the whole way to the cemetery.

The weather was beautiful when we got there and the kids had a blast running around in all the grass. We spread our picnic blanket out right on top of Chris's grave so that it sort of felt like he was joining us for lunch. It was going great until Ian said, "Mommy! Spider!" and pointed to my shoulder. After three furious attempts by Granny and lots of hushed swearing by me, the creepy creature was finally removed from the premises.

Once we were done eating, we put the flowers and balloon next to Chris's grave marker. "Do you see that name here?," I said to Ian. "It says Christopher Diez. Do you know who that is?"

"Yep. Me!"

"No. You are Ian Diez. Daddy is Christopher Diez."

"Oh. Yes!," and he skipped over to a tree.

I then attempted to have a moment alone with Chris while my mom took the kids back to the car. Ian, who doesn't like to go anywhere without Mommy, came running back to the grave and sat in my lap.

"Why you staying here, Mommy?"

"I'm praying for Daddy."

"Oh." And then he went back to playing his tuba.

So much for the pieces coming together! The kid barely knows his own name!

This is us without you, Chris. Happy Father's Day.

Comfy

2010-06-16T00:36:00.001-05:00

Today, I had the pleasure of meeting another widow blogger. My Sainted Dead Husband was one of the first blogs I started visiting after Chris died. I can't even remember how I stumbled upon it at this point but I am certainly glad I did.

Irene McGoldrick's widow story has a lot of parallels to my own which made me return to her blog again and again. Her husband, Bob, was diagnosed with Lymphoma when she was pregnant with their second child. He died one year later and Irene was left with two small boys to raise. That was six years ago and Irene is now remarried. Her second husband, Mike, has three children of his own so together they run a very busy household.

Irene and Mike also read my blog and we comment back and forth to each other once in awhile. I have come to "know" a lot of widows this way. There are actually quite a few blogs and other online resources out there for people in this unenviable position. I have met many in my community through these resources and have garnered a lot of encouragement from reading about their journeys. So, I was extremely excited when Mike emailed me a few weeks ago to suggest that the three of us meet for lunch. Irene lives in a suburb of Milwaukee so we are reasonably close geographically. We picked a restaurant in between our homes and met today.

A warm embrace from each, followed by, "So, is this your first widow blind date?!" from Mike kicked off our time together. We spent the next two hours talking about the circumstances of our husbands' deaths, our support systems, our kids, Irene's remarriage, and her memoir about Bob and their life together which will be published at the end of August. I have to say, there is something about talking to someone else who has also lost the love of their life that is so...comfy (sorry, Irene, to imply that your life experiences make me feel good!).

What I mean is that there is no pretense in meeting with such a person for the first time. You can right skip over the traditional niceties of a "first date" and slip right into the messy details of life. There is a shared vocabulary, shared emotions, and shared fears and concerns. You can discuss things you might never discuss with others who haven't walked this road. It can be quite like talking to one of your best friends. It is just...comfy! And trust me, I look for comfy wherever I can get it these days!

Thanks, Irene and Mike, for a lovely lunch. I'd say I look forward to getting comfy with you guys again soon but that would just sound weird!

We Are Blessed

2010-06-11T22:30:00.001-05:00

One thing that I have been assured of over and over again since Chris died is that I have an amazing support system. Between my family, Chris's family and both sets of friends, we have managed to do more than just survive the last 17 months. While I won't go so far as to say we have flourished, I would assert that we are doing better than expected.

The past two weeks proved to me yet again how lucky I am to have all these wonderful people in my life. As I mentioned a couple of months ago, my mother is moving in with us. She is going to continue to work full-time but it will be so helpful to have her here in the evenings. She likes to cook which will ensure that Ian and Claire eat more than chicken nuggets and grilled cheese and that I eat more than take out food. It will also be nice for me to be able to leave the house at night to run errands or do something fun without always arranging for a babysitter. Granny Donna moves in next Friday and we are all looking forward to this!

In the meantime, in order to prepare for this change, I finished off my basement. The husband of one of my friends is a contractor and he did the work for me. He built a bedroom for my mom and a play room for the kids. Last week, Chris's siblings and friends helped me with the grueling job of priming and painting both rooms. These are the same siblings who have helped us out in numerous ways over time. They regularly cut my grass, tend to my garden, help with the kids by babysitting, by sitting with them at church, by assisting at bedtime, etc. These are the same friends who have acted as handyman way too many times, made "emergency" Dairy Queen runs and showered the kids with gifts.

And then there was the SWAT team that deployed this week when I got a sinus infection. My head was under so much pressure for a day and a half that I thought it was going to explode. In swooped Chris's sister, Vickie, and my mom to watch the kids while I rested. Oh, and lets not forget the 80 year old diabetic mother-in-law who watches both kids at her house once a week (with the assistance of the diabetic, legally blind brother-in-law...you know, the one who cuts the grass. Doesn't have the ring of an ideal childcare situation I know but it works!).

The bottom line is that I feel extraordinarily blessed this week. Honestly, it feels strange to say that when my husband is dead but it is true. I chose Chris to be the one I shared my life with for many reasons not the least of which being his selflessness. It has been illustrated for me once again recently how he wound up that way and what good company he kept. I know he would be so grateful to this cast of characters for taking care of me and his children and I am too. I am too.

Another One Joins the Ranks

2010-06-02T23:29:00.000-05:00

Someone I know joined the Widow Club yesterday when her husband died as a result of head injuries from a fall. I knew both her and her husband in college. We weren't close friends--more like acquaintances introduced through my roommate. They dated all through college and married soon after graduating. They have three children.

Why does it feel like so many of the good guys--the good husbands, the good fathers, the good men--are the ones who leave this world too early? There are so many things I'll never understand.

Seeing Red

2010-05-26T10:26:00.001-05:00

Warning: This post may contain language unsuitable for small children and sensitive adults.

I'm pissed.

I'm pissed that Chris is dead.
I'm pissed that he barely got to know his kids and that they'll never know him.
I'm pissed that I have to make all the decisions now.

I'm pissed that I lost my gourmet cook, my gardener and my wine expert.
I'm pissed that I still have so many questions I want to ask him.
I'm pissed that he'll never beat me at Trivial Pursuit again (because he did every time).

I'm pissed that the only ones sharing my bed these days are a middle aged cat who snores and a clingy almost three year old.
I'm pissed that I don't have a hand to hold when watching a rented movie.
I'm pissed that I may go through the rest of this life without a partner.

I'm pissed that my mom is moving in with us (happy that she is willing to come but pissed that I need her to).
I'm pissed that I have to renovate a basement that wouldn't need renovating if Chris were alive.
I'm pissed that I don't have a clue about buying paint supplies for said renovation and the person who could advise me can't take phone calls where he is at.

I'm pissed that Chris is dead.

Did I mention that I'm....PISSED?!

Ahhhh...that feels better.

P.S. And isn't that an incredible likeness of me above?

Path to Progress

2010-05-21T18:52:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is the Path to Progress walk/run to raise money for the American Brain Tumor Association. The event is held at Soldier Field and starts bright and early at 8:30 a.m. I will be volunteering at the event along with my sister, Julie, and her three oldest kids, Jimmy, Molly and Erin. We have to be there at 6:00 a.m. so I am especially grateful for their willingness to volunteer with me!

Keep your fingers crossed for a successful event!

Root Canal or Dinner with a Toddler? Root Canal, Please.

2010-05-14T22:48:00.001-05:00

If you know of one parent, just one, who claims to have a peaceful meal with a toddler, I urge you to demand proof. I need some concrete evidence that such a toddler--one who happily eats a balanced or even partially balanced or even more than three bites of a meal--actually exists.

You see, eating has always been an issue for Ian. When he was a newborn, he would leisurely alternate between nursing and snoozing at the trough....for an hour. I kept listening for the swallowing sounds you are supposed to hear to know that you are breastfeeding correctly. Never heard them. He rarely seemed very hungry and, as he got older, he would easily get distracted while nursing. In contrast, I could not only hear Claire swallowing when she started nursing in the hospital, I actually heard slurping and gulping. Girlfriend has yet to meet a meal she doesn't like (ribs anyone?).

When it was time for Ian to start baby food, I excitedly prepared his first bowl of oatmeal and watched in disappointment as he spit it back out. I know what you are thinking. That baby cereal does taste like cardboard. But I watched this same scene play itself out over and over again as I fed him pears, carrots, peas, applesauce, peaches, etc. It took him six weeks just to tolerate eating baby food. And then when it came to solid food....forget about it. He literally subsisted on Cheerios and milk (because dairy is the one food group he will eat) for weeks. And this has just gotten worse over time.

Now that he is a strong-willed two (almost three) year old, meals are just downright painful. On a daily basis, I hear some assortment of the following all interspersed with the oh so pleasant sounds of whining, crying and screaming:

"NO MEAT!! NO MEAT!! NO MEAT!!"

"NO FISH!! NO FISH!! NO FISH!!"

"NO FRUIT!! NO FRUIT!! NO FRUIT!!

   "CHEESE STICK, MOMMY!! CHEESE STICK, MOMMY!!"

   "GOLDFISH, MOMMY!! GOLDFISH, MOMMY!!"

   "TEDDY GRAHAMS, MOMMY!! TEDDY GRAHAMS, MOMMY!!"

   "NO EATING DINNER!! NO EATING DINNER!!"

   "NO LIKING BROCCOLI!! NO LIKING BROCCOLI!!"

   "NO WANTING SAMWICH!! NO WANTING SAMWICH!!"

Add to this mix the negotiating, the creative coercing (I actually claimed that Mickey Mouse made his meatloaf the other day to make it more appealing) and his frequent attempts at escaping from the table, and we have a recipe for the not-so-perfect meal. And to top this state of affairs off, the rules change quickly and without notice. Yesterday he loved hamburgers, today he won't touch them. Last week he hated sweet potatoes thereby prompting me to not buy any more. This week, guess what? A meltdown occurs when there are no sweet potatoes to be had. And this is why, more days than not, I'd rather sign up for a root canal than share another meal with my little darling.

I simply don't understand this whole phenomenon. To my detriment, I consider eating one of my favorite past times. Chris enjoyed many a good meal as well. So how did we wind up with this kid who considers two bites ("TINY bites, Mommy?) of a minuscule chicken nugget a full meal? Am I destined to fight with him at the dinner table for years on end? Will he ever be able to choke down items from each of the food groups in one sitting?

If you have any suggestions on how to solve this looming crisis, I beg of you to share. You can find Claire and I in the kitchen eating ice cream from the carton.

"For the Young(ish) Mother Whose Young(ish) Husband Died"

2010-05-09T22:58:00.000-05:00

I stopped in Hallmark on Saturday to buy some Mothers Day cards and gifts. As I stood amongst the procrastinating dads scanning the quickly depleting selection of cards, I noticed that none of the inventory seemed to apply to me. Sure, there were the "Happy Mothers Day, Mommy!," "To My Daughter on Mothers Day," "To a Wonderful Sister and Mother" cards. But, not surprisingly, there weren't any cards that were addressed to ME. Not one category of cards "For the Young(ish) Mother Whose Young(ish) Husband Died." Damn...can't escape the feeling of being different (and alone and cheated) even on a day that I am fully entitled to celebrate. I mean, I did bear two children so why can't I just enjoy the day?

Because, that's why. Because the person who made it possible for me to be a mother--just when I was beginning to think I might not ever be one--is gone. Because I only got to celebrate one/uno/1 stinking Mothers Day as part of a complete family. Because I have now celebrated more Mothers Days as a mother without Chris than with him. Because I'll never know what kind of card Chris might have purchased for me this year. Would it have been a serious and sentimental one or a sarcastic and witty one? I know one thing. It would have been addressed to My Wife as opposed to My Widow. And that is the part I just can't get past today.

May 1st: A Big Day

2010-05-01T11:58:00.001-05:00

Today would have been Chris's 50th birthday. Ironically, it is also the first day of Brain Tumor Awareness Month.

Per the American Brain Tumor Association (ABTA), this month alone, more than 5,000 Americans will be diagnosed with a primary brain tumor; another 20,000 will learn that cancer in another part of the body has spread to the brain. All in all, there are more than 600,000 individuals living with a brain tumor diagnosis and its devastating impact on their physical, emotional, social and financial well-being.

This month, the ABTA is encouraging people to take a personal pledge to spread the word about brain tumors and the need for more research by going to this link. Why not take the pledge as a birthday present to Chris?

We will be celebrating today with a family mass at our house said by our former pastor, Fr. Carl Morello. Some of Chris's friends are also coming by tonight to celebrate. We are going to drink some of the good wine from Chris's wine collection and share stories about the man we all loved. Although this is not the way his birthday would have been commemorated if he were still alive, I know today will have moments of joy nonetheless.

This is us without you, Chris. Wish you were here for your big day.

P.S. Today is also the birthday of my sister, Julie. She has been one of my biggest sources of strength since Chris died. I couldn't ask for a better sister and I'm so glad she is in my life!

Daddy Clothes

2010-04-26T15:35:00.001-05:00

There is a particular variety of children's clothing that I ignore. I don't do it very successfully but I try anyway because it stings too much. I call this clothing, "Daddy Clothes" and it is all the adorable shirts and onesies that say things like:

Daddy's LIttle Helper

My Heart Belongs to Daddy

Daddy's Angel

If You Think I'm Cute, You Should See My Daddy

Today, I was confronted with Daddy Clothes for what feels like the 1,000th time since Chris has died. I am never prepared for this type of assault (a strong word to describe the experience but, oh, so appropriate). No matter how many times I see clothing of this type, it hurts just as much as it did when I opened a baby gift for Claire right after Chris died that said, "Daddy's Girl" on it. The person who gave it to her probably bought it before we knew Chris was sick and didn't think to remove it from the package. And, thinking about it now, should they really have removed it? Claire is Chris's little girl. Nothing can change that. Still, that sweet, tiny, size 0-3 month onesie felt like a two ton dose of reality in my hands. Its simple and charming message taunted me....and continues to do so.

I saw some adorable little boy pajamas today with diggers on the pants. I excitedly began looking for Ian's size because I knew getting him these pajamas would make his day (he LOVES diggers). As I rummaged through the pile, I realized that the top of the pajamas said, "Daddy's LIttle Helper." My heart sank and I walked away from the latest version of Daddy Clothes...again.

Maybe someday I'll be able to see the kids in this type of clothing. But for now, I just can't do it. Pajamas with monkeys on them will have to do.

April 16, 2005

2010-04-16T04:47:00.002-05:00

Five years ago today

Happy Anniversary, Chris

Dad Season

2010-04-09T23:58:00.000-05:00

Now that the weather is warming up, it seems like I see dads with their kids everywhere. The biggest dad draw is the park, especially in the afternoons. Today was no exception. We headed to the park after naps and came upon several dads pushing their kids on the swings and helping their babies down the slide. Some of the dads were still dressed in their work clothes as if they had hurriedly rushed off to the park after work in order to enjoy every possible minute of daylight.

There must be something magical about the park experience for dads. I know Chris loved taking Ian there (sometimes a couple of times a day). Grown men are transformed into little boys at the park as they relive their childhood adventures. Of course, I see plenty of moms enjoying the park with their kids and I have a lot of fun when we visit. But nothing can replace the joy of playing in the sandbox with dad or being tickled in the grass by him after he has chased you around teasing, "I'm going to get you!" Or maybe those experiences just seem irreplaceable now that I know Ian and Claire won't have them.

Thank goodness kids say the cutest things to bring levity to the day. A small tan cat has been hanging around our house this past week. I think it might be a stray but it is very friendly and likes to play with the kids when we are outside. She (I think) made an appearance today while we were in the backyard and rolled around in the leaves and dirt for awhile. This elicited squeals of delight from Claire and plenty of laughter from Ian. Later in the day, as we were on our way to the park, Ian asked me if we were going to see the kitty from outside. I told him we probably wouldn't and he asked me what her name was. I said I wasn't sure but we should come up with our own name for her. He suggested, "Luna." When I reminded him that we already have a cat named Luna, he promptly replied, "No. Luna In The Backyard." Of course, why didn't I think of that?!

This is us without you, Chris. We missed you at the park today.

Pictures

2010-03-22T12:14:00.002-05:00

Just a quick update with some recent pictures of the kids. Enjoy!

Progress?

2010-03-21T14:10:00.003-05:00

I went to Target earlier this week and decided to buy an ottoman. It was kind of a spur of the moment decision but I had been thinking about getting something to replace the deteriorating coffee table in my living room. I really wanted something with storage in it and I saw one at Target that opened up. Perfect for storing toys, DVDs, stuffed animals, etc. You know, all the things that I swore would stay in the play room but somehow still manage to make their way into the living room.

The ottoman I wanted was on the top shelf of the store, way above my head. So, I asked a man who worked there to take it down for me. As he was taking it down, I asked him if it was heavy (knowing that I was most likely going to bring it in the house by myself). He said, "Just leave it in your car until your husband gets home." And my first thought was, "That could be awhile." Really, that was my first thought. Not, "Oh no, he mentioned a husband and I don't have one and now I'm going to lose it." Not, "My husband is dead so I'll never get this ottoman (or anything else heavy) in the house by myself (ever again)." Not even, "How dare he assume everyone has a husband?" My first reaction was to almost, dare I say, crack a joke to myself.

Hmmmmm....is this progress? Is this healing? Or was it just a good day?

P.S. I DID get it in the house by myself.

Ready...or NOT

2010-03-13T05:51:00.004-06:00

Another two months have gone by since I have posted an update. And I said I was going to post something about the one year anniversary of Chris's death. I guess I just wasn't ready. Strangely, feeling ready (or NOT) seems to be a theme in my life these days.

Presently, I'm feeling...

Ready to start thinking about and planning my future;

NOT ready to picture a future where I don't see Chris again..ever.

Ready to feel healthy and look better;

NOT ready to take the steps to get there...yet.

Ready to start going through Chris's things and decide what to save, donate, give away;

NOT ready for the emotional roller coaster ride that will come with this.

Ready to start thinking about what type of work I want to do going forward;

NOT ready (in the least) to actually start working.

The biggest change coming my way in the next couple of months is that my mom is moving in with me. We have talked about doing this for months and the time now seems right. A lot has to happen before this transition takes place not the least of which involves construction in my basement to create a living area. I believe this arrangement will be beneficial for both my mom and us in the long run. I think we are in for quite an adventure but I DO believe I'm ready for this one.

I promise to be better about updating! I will post some new pictures of the kids in the next week.

Hope you are all doing well.

365 Days...

2010-01-14T22:09:00.002-06:00

have now passed since Chris died. Yesterday was the one year anniversary. I don't know how it is possible that it has been that long since I have seen him.

I know a lot of you were thinking about me yesterday and sent me your prayers and kind thoughts. I will write a longer post this weekend regarding my feelings about the last year. I need some more sleep and more mental energy in order to do that. So, for now, I'm going to bed:).

Success, Success, and More Success!

2010-01-11T14:39:00.008-06:00

The concert was wonderful! The church looked beautiful, the choir sounded great, and the audience was abundant--600 strong! It was truly a special afternoon and I appreciate everyone who attended. Thanks too for those who weren't able to be there but donated money to the American Brain Tumor Association anyway. We raised nearly $9000 so far! More money is still coming in so I'll update you when I have the final numbers.

Throughout the concert, candles were lit to represent important aspects of Chris's life. Above is a picture of the FAMILY and CHOIR candles.

Per tradition, the audience stands while the choir performs the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah.

Choir members being acknowledged for a job well done after the concert.

Concert Eve

2010-01-09T23:43:00.002-06:00

Tomorrow is the Chris Diez Memorial Concert. As of today, we have sold 470 tickets. It should be a beautiful day and a lovely tribute.

There was an article in the Park Ridge paper this week about the concert.

I hope by this time tomorrow, I can say that the day was a huge success!

We survived

2009-12-27T22:49:00.006-06:00

We got through Christmas and it actually wasn't horrible. It felt like an endless 12 hour cycle of seeing family, opening presents and eating. I guess that is what the holidays are all about! The kids were completely overwhelmed and over stimulated by the end of the day and Granny and Mommy were in bed before 9 p.m.

Even amongst the craziness, I still managed to wish Chris into our day. I suppose because I'm female, I never quite understood the big deal about trains. I used to tease Chris when, while eating at our favorite outdoor restaurant, he would act like a little boy upon seeing a train pass. Without fail, he would yell, "Train! Train!" He would have loved every minute of laying on the floor with Ian driving his new Thomas trains around.

The hardest thing for me to imagine is how Chris would have been with Claire on Christmas. Every day, I wonder what kind of dad he would have been like to a daughter. I think I was safe in picturing him pushing her doll around in her new stroller and telling her how pretty she looked in her jewelry box mirror. But I just don't know...

Thanks for the calls and emails letting me know you were thinking about me. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday.

This is us without you, Chris. Merry Christmas, honey.

An Overdue Update

2009-12-18T14:05:00.011-06:00

Ok, ok...I get the message! Four people told me this week that I needed to update my blog. I'm sorry I've been so out of touch lately. I can't believe that I haven't written since before Halloween. It is amazing how fast time flies...even when you aren't having fun.

In a nutshell, the last two months have been busy and exhausting. Here is an update of what has been happening:

Ian

Ian is so much fun to be around these days (well, most days). He can sing several songs including Santa Claus is Coming to Town and Jingle Bells. I am quickly told, "No sing, mommy" if I try to sing along (just one of the many orders he issues to me daily). He is currently obsessed with all things Thomas or anything resembling a train. He likes to create trains out of legos, remote controls, slippers, etc. He also loves Santa--the idea of him and the actual dude himself. He has seen him three times now and sat on his lap twice. The last time was when Santa rolled into Edison Park on the train. Santa + train = 1 ridiculously happy little boy.

He might be graduating to a big boy bed soon as he climbed out of his crib last week. He landed smoothly but it made me sufficiently nervous to consider a new set up for bed time. He is also using the potty occasionally. He started out with a bang a few months ago but quickly lost interest. One of the goals for 2010 is to spend more time on potty training.

The littlest things make Ian happy. Anything that he likes is at risk of being showered with numerous kisses. Besides the obvious targets of Mommy, Claire, and Tante, he has bestowed many a kiss on the cat, his trains, the Christmas tree, the KitchenAid mixer, several books and his Little People farmer. His new favorite phrase is, "Sliking (insert adored object here)." For those who don't speak toddlerish, that means, "I like...." Last week, we visited the Evanston Library where Chris used to work. When I told Ian we were going to see Daddy's friends, he smiled and said, "Sliking daddy....much." My sweet boy.

Claire

Claire is becoming a force to be reckoned with (heads up, Ian!). She no longer stands idly by while Ian takes toys from her. Shrieking and swatting are her most effective strategies. She loves electronics and a lot of time is spent pulling her away from lure of the entertainment center. She claps her hands, can do "so big", gives five, waves hello and goodbye, points at everything, and has taken a few steps. She enjoys books, pretending to talk on the phone and her new baby doll. It is hard to believe she will be 1 years old in two weeks. She is already growing up too fast.

Mommy

I'm not going to lie. Besides being busy and exhausted, I've definitely had some tough days recently. This has made it hard to be motivated to write anything at the end of the day. My pillow is usually calling out to me by 8:30 p.m. I have also spent a lot of time planning a memorial concert for Chris (more on that below).

The first snowfall really took me back to last year when our nightmare began to unfold. I'm reminded of all the trips back and forth to the hospital, neighbors coming to shovel our sidewalks, being shuttled around everywhere since no one would allow me to drive, crying until my eyes were unrecognizable and not being able to sleep for days. The extra hours of darkness and cold weather add to the sadness. And then there is the fact that it is the holiday season. Fa la la la la la la la la...

I'm doing the best I can for right now and am trying to cut myself some slack. I'm taking advantage of any extra time and childcare I have to sleep or doing something else for myself. I did take a birthday trip to a spa in November. It was a nice respite from life for 48 hours.

You may have been wondering but haven't wanted to ask how Weight Watchers has been going for me. It was going great for quite awhile and then I kind of derailed. I haven't lost nearly the amount of weight I originally wanted to by now. But, I still weigh less than I did when I started and that is the point! I am continuing to go to meetings even if the results aren't always good. I just have to concentrate on making this part of my life going forward.

Finally, I was asked to be a guest writer again for the Widow's Voice blog. My latest entry was posted today if you want to check it out.

Memorial Concert

In case you haven't heard, the St. Paul of the Cross choir will be performing a concert of holiday and sacred music to honor Chris's memory. I will sing a couple of solos. Chris's friends and I have put together a beautiful program and I am looking forward to the event. It has taken a lot out of me though. I of course want the afternoon to be perfect so I have been working overtime to make sure every detail is correct.

The concert will take place on Sunday, January 10th at 3:30 p.m. in the church. Tickets are $10 each and all proceeds will benefit the American Brain Tumor Association. You can reserve tickets by emailing memorialconcert@sbcglobal.net or you can buy tickets at the St. Paul of the Cross rectory during the week. Please join us!

Pictures

Here is a link to some pictures of the kids. Some of them are a few months old but cute just the same. Enjoy!

I think that brings us up to date now. Obviously, the next few weeks will be challenging for us. December 21, 2008 was the last day of my old life. I'll be very cognizant of that as I go through my day tomorrow.

As we enter the height of the holidays, I pray that you are blessed with many beautiful memories this year.

This is us without you, Chris. We miss and slike you...much.

Widow's Voice

2009-10-24T07:23:00.002-05:00

While looking for grief related websites a few months ago, I discovered a blog called Widow's Voice. It is written by seven different widows (actually, it includes one widower). The writers are each responsible for updating the blog on one day of the week so there is a Monday writer, a Tuesday writer, etc. I like this format because I hear a different perspective daily. Yet I relate to all the posts.

A few weeks ago, I contacted the woman who runs the blog and expressed interest in writing for it if there was ever a need. She let me know that all of their regular writing spots were filled but she would keep me in mind as a substitute writer. This week, she contacted me to ask if I could substitute for the Saturday writer as she was going out of town. I accepted the invitation and you can read my post at http://widowsvoice-sslf.blogspot.com/.

I appreciate this opportunity as I enjoy writing quite a bit. I am also pleased to know that other widows out there might connect with my experiences. As I have learned over the past nine months, no one wants to become a member of this community but once you are in it, so much is to be gained from hearing from one another.

Dada

2009-10-13T22:36:00.013-05:00

Thanks to the Diez's, we have a large map of the world in our play room. Ian enjoys looking at it and pointing to the different countries, animals, etc. For Antarctica, there is a picture of three penguins--two big ones and one little one. Today, Ian pointed to the penguin family and said, "Penguins! Baby, mommy, mommy." Then he said, "Baby, two mommies!" Ugh...stab to the heart. He doesn't realize that most families consist of a mommy AND a daddy. He doesn't understand that when I talk about "daddy" that he is actually a precious piece of our family unit that is missing. To Ian, he is almost like a character in a book like Elmo or Pinocchio. He is excited to see Chris's picture but "daddy" is just an abstract idea to him. I know this is a result of his developmental stage but it still hurts.

Claire rarely hears the word "daddy" but she has been saying "mama" for a couple of months. Last week, she started saying "dada" and my heart skipped a beat. It wasn't from the joy that most parents feel when their babies say that word for the first time. It was more like a mixed bag of emotions. First, a sense of awe that she was able to learn the word even with her limited exposure to it and second, a nagging sense of sadness that she'll never get to know the man that embodies that word.

I can hear some of you saying, "They will get to know Chris through your stories and memories." I know, I know. But it isn't the same. It isn't the same as them experiencing a hug from him or garnering a smile from him when one of them has made him proud. It just isn't the same, plain and simple.

Maybe I'm wallowing in some self-pity this week because the 9 month anniversary of Chris's death was on Wednesday. I could have had a baby in that time. Instead, I gave birth to a whole new life that I didn't ask for. And now I'm dealing with the sleepless nights and emotional highs and lows of this new "baby" of mine...grief. It isn't as cute or cuddly as a newborn and yet I still have to care for it 24 hours a day.

I'm tired! I look forward to the time that my grief baby feels like less of a constant drain and more like a silent companion. I know I can't rush the process but I will relish the day when hearing the word "dada" brings a smile to my face.

This is us without you, Chris. We miss you, daddy.

The "Husband" Jobs

2009-10-07T21:27:00.008-05:00

Fixing the clogged toilet...

Mowing the lawn...

Moving heavy objects....

Figuring out how all the remotes work...

Bringing the trash cans to the curb the night before trash day...

The last one gets me every time. Actually, I have a confession to make. Since Chris died, I have only had to bring the trash cans to the curb three times...and I forgot to do it twice. Uncle Harold is usually here helping to put the kids to bed on Tuesday nights so he or whoever else is around do trash can duty. But since our nanny started, no one else comes by on Tuesdays and therefore no one thinks of the trash. Or more specifically, I don't think of it. Luckily, I caught the garbage men in enough time today so I wasn't stuck with a weeks worth of trash until next Wednesday.

I hope I get more used to the idea of doing the "husband" jobs before it snows or we'll need skis to leave our house.

"You've Really Got Your Hands Full!"

2009-09-23T21:04:00.003-05:00

This is what other moms say to me when they first meet me and the kids, especially when they find out that Ian is two and Claire is eight months old. Usually, my first thought is to respond with, "Thanks for stating the obvious" followed quickly by, "You don't know the half of it." Of course, I just say, "Yep, it's busy." Imagine me shocking some poor unsuspecting mother by announcing that my husband is also dead. That's a sure fire way to make friends. Anyway, I got this reaction for the umpteenth time today at the park and I think it was foreshadowing of how the rest of my day was going to go.

Knowing that I was going to handle bedtime all by myself tonight (a rare occurrence), I probably over stayed our welcome at the park. Upon finally loading the kids into the car to leave, I did what any mom who is feeling tired and lazy would do. I suggested we pick up McDonald's for dinner. Ian was not surprisingly quick to say, "yesshh" to this idea so off we went.

At the drive thru, I ordered a happy meal with chicken nuggets, apples and white milk. The person taking my order was careful to find out if the happy meal was for a girl or a boy so the right toy could be included. No sooner did we get our order and pull out of the parking lot than Claire started to cry. Not just any ordinary cry but big time, over the top wailing. She clearly did not appreciate the fine dining we had in mind. She screamed for what seemed like an hour but in reality was merely a ten minute ride home. After awhile, Ian also started sobbing and whining, "Baby! No cry!" By the time we pulled into our driveway, both kids were in hysterics and I was cursing under my breath about how I possibly could have thought going to McDonald's was a good idea.

I lugged both screaming kids into the house and threw dinner on the coffee table. Claire was on my lap finally settling down and Ian stood by the couch sobbing. He didn't want to get on the couch unless I put "baby" on the "foor". That clearly wasn't an option so he just continued to scream. Finally, I said, "Let's look at your toy from McDonald's!" I opened the bag and what do you know? No toy! After I was specifically asked if I needed a boy or a girl toy! To try to do damage control, I quickly suggested going into the kitchen to eat the nuggets. I stuck Claire in the highchair prompting a new round of screaming and waited for Ian to follow. No Ian. Still crying by the couch. I finally picked him up and plopped him in his chair at the table, opened the McDonald's bag again and pulled out his...cheeseburger?!?!?! AAAAHHHH!!! Are the fast food gods conspiring against me?! That McDonald's is darn lucky I was too exhausted tonight to look up their number, call them and give them a piece of my mind.

Just when I thought dinner couldn't get any less nutritional than chicken nuggets, Ian's final meal consisted of five cookies and Claire's included about twenty Gerber cheetos and three spoonfuls of baby food. Guess who ate the cheeseburger? Yum yum! Somehow I managed to put both of them to bed pretty close to their normal bedtimes and without enduring any further crying (at least by them).

Tonight, as I sit at my computer after getting the kids to bed, I can whole heartedly agree that I have my hands full. Yet, I wouldn't want it any other way. And neither would Chris. We wanted our kids to be close in age and we also knew we were working against a ticking biological clock. Of course, neither of us banked on him not being here and only having one set of hands to fill up. But since he isn't here, I have to enjoy them for the both of us and I do. I really do.

This is us without you, Chris. We still miss you.

P.S. As the above story is just one example of our daily lives, I decided to hire a nanny one day per week. Marta is a wonderful woman from Poland who has a lot of child care experience. She is at my house for the entire day on Tuesdays so I can run errands, meet friends for lunch, get my haircut, etc. She started a few weeks ago and we all love her. I just hope she feels the same way as we do because she is definitely helping me stay sane!

It Should Have Been Chris

2009-09-14T21:06:00.008-05:00

For a long time after Chris died, any time my sister asked me if I was alright, I responded with, "Chris is still dead." And she quietly would reply with, "I know." Honestly, what else could either of us say? 8 months later, I still feel like I could have that conversation every day and maybe I should. Maybe if I hear myself say it that often, I'll really start to believe it.

All around me, the signs point to the obvious fact that he is gone. The choir season at St. Paul's has begun with a new director. The first rehearsal has been held and the first mass has been sung. Sunday, I did the same thing I've done for the past nine years. I showed up at church to sing that first mass of the season but this time, Chris wasn't conducting.

Our new director is very experienced and capable. He did a good job and the choir sounded beautiful. But the experience was undoubtedly surreal for me. On one hand, I profoundly felt Chris's absence. And on the other hand, I felt like he wasn't absent at all. If I tried hard enough, I could see him leaning against the choir loft rail next to the organ with his arms crossed, nodding encouragingly to all of us and giving me one of his knowing looks. And when I peered into the congregation and saw Ian, dressed like a mini Chris, watching the choir in rapt awe and swaying to the music, I knew at least a piece of him was there. But still, it should have been Chris in that loft.

All diehard Bears fans know that this weekend was the first regular season game against the Packers. Tante prepped Ian all week long for the game by making sure he understood that we DON'T like the Packers and that we DO like the Bears. He practiced saying, "Go Bears" and, "Touchdown" (complete with arm gestures) over and over again so he'd be ready for last night's game. He and Claire both had their Bears gear on and watched some of the action. Chris would have gotten such a kick out of this. He couldn't wait to share his love of the Bears with them. And while I thank my lucky stars for Tante every day, it should have been Chris on that couch.

This is us without you, Chris. We shouldn't have to miss you.

P.S. Did you know that it is not unusual for wasps to build nests at grave sites? Neither did I until I tried to visit the cemetery yesterday and was greeted by a swarm of the pesky buggers pouring out of a hole at the corner of Chris's headstone. Apparently, this happens often enough that the cemetery has a regular service to handle these situations. I shouldn't have to fight off an army of stinging insects to visit my husband!

My Shell Sings

2009-08-30T20:38:00.002-05:00

I sang a wedding yesterday...first one since Chris died. I sang four masses today...first time I've cantored all the Sunday masses since he has been gone. To put it more accurately, the shell of me sang all weekend long.

I love weddings and I used to really love singing them. Years before I got married, I would silently take notes at the ceremonies I sang at in preparation for my own big day. I would admire the dress, inspect the programs, listen intently to the readings, check out the flowers, etc., etc., etc. After Chris and I got engaged, singing weddings became an integral part of my own planning. I studied everything so that I knew what I did and did not want to do.

Likewise, I used to garner a lot of satisfaction from cantoring even when I had to do several masses in one day. It was rewarding to feel like I was encouraging people to participate more fully in the service or that I might be ministering to someone in a unique way through music. And I think in my 20 years of serving as a cantor (wow, I'm old), I've become pretty good at it.

But this weekend, it felt like I really wasn't the one who was singing. It felt like a shell of my former self was doing the work for me. Someone who looked like me and sounded like me showed up and did the job. My new self quietly sat by, numb and distracted throughout the whole process.

There was no mental critiquing of the bridesmaids dresses, no reminiscing about my day when the bride and groom said their vows, no getting up to watch the happy couple walk down the aisle at the end of the service. Singing "Alleluia" at four masses felt forced and phony. Making eye contact with and smiling to the congregation was a chore.

This new self of mine recognized this weekend for about the 100th time that things will never be the same again. I will never be the same. And even if I continue to do the same things I did before Chris died, they will be done differently. I just pray that some day it will be more than just my shell that sings again.

This is us without you, Chris. Today, my old and new self missed you.

What lurks in the basement...

2009-08-19T22:52:00.007-05:00

Some of you know that I have had major issues with flooding in my basement for the past two years. We have had 6 inches of water from heavy rains at least four different times since Ian was born (including the day Chris was released from the ICU). I finally decided I had enough after the last time and my brother-in-law, Thomas, got a plumber he knows out to check the place over and come up with a solution. It was determined that an injection pit and pump would be installed, the current pipes would be abandoned and things would be rerouted to a different exit out of the basement. It is all too technical for me but that is the way I understand it.

Before this work can be done, a contractor had to bust up a certain area of the cement floor to make way for the pump. The contractor removed the cement when the job was done but there is still is a small mountain of clay and dirt residing in the basement until the plumber can do the work. Still waiting to hear when that will be...

Anyway, a few days ago, Vickie and I both noticed a quite unpleasant smell in the house. Could it be coming from the pile of previously mentioned clay and dirt, I thought? Or, could it be emanating from the cracked plaster on the dining room ceiling that occurred after my bathroom toilet leaked two months ago (yep, still haven't gotten that fixed), Vickie asked? Foolishly hoping the offending odor would just disappear, I didn't do much to find the source. BIG MISTAKE!

Vickie is sleeping over at the house tonight because Ian has a fever and is not sleeping well (a whole other story). She had a taste for a chocolate ice cream treat which she thought could be found in my downstairs freezer. Imagine her shock and horror when she opened the freezer to find everything thawed and a rancid smell that almost knocked her unconscious. Imagine my disgust when this very same smell wafted upstairs and infiltrated every single room in the house within seconds. Apparently, the freezer was unplugged at some point and none of us realized it. I shudder to think how long it sat there in that condition.

Vickie and I, armed with room deodorizer and dish towels fashioned into face masks, went into the war zone and did battle with the contents of the freezer. I am happy to report that it is thoroughly emptied, all thawed food has been thrown out (I apologize now to the garbage men), the freezer has been bleached and candles/room deodorizer have been working their magic. Not exactly sure if either of us will be able to eat any type of meat again but we can sleep easier tonight knowing that smell should be gone in about a month or so!

High Five

2009-08-12T13:56:00.003-05:00

Feeling kind of proud of myself today. This is my third week of Weight Watchers and I have lost my first 5 pounds! Granted, I have a long way to go before reaching my ideal weight but that first 5 pounds feels awesome.

I think when most people ask me how I am, they are thinking about my emotional state not necessarily my physical state. But when I think about what my poor body has been through in the last year, I'm amazed that it works as well as it does. Here is what the old gal has endured in the last 12 months:

Packed on 25 pounds while pregnant
Gave birth via c-section
Shed pregnancy 25 pounds almost immediately (planning your husband's funeral with a newborn and a 17 month old will do that for you)
Nursed a baby
Gained 20 pounds since Chris's death (chocolate peanut butter cups by the handful will do that for you)

And now I'm sending my body into another tailspin by trying to eat healthy (what a shock to the system!) and lose weight permanently. Phew...I hope this is one change that will be warmly welcomed by the bod!

Potty Animal

2009-08-07T22:44:00.011-05:00

Well, it has happened. Ian has officially used the potty! And can you believe that I'm actually writing about it? I have become one of those mothers who is bent on embarrassing her child.

This happened completely by accident and I have to admit that I'm not overly excited about it. I honestly don't know if I am mentally prepared to be on Potty Patrol all day long. I mean, he is only two so I am perfectly content to wait until he decides he is ready (did I already mention my ambivalence on this topic?).

Up until now, he hasn't really had any desire to go to the bathroom on the potty. Don't get me wrong. He is fascinated by the toilet, the flusher, the toilet paper, the water in the bowl (yes, he had to touch it), the Sesame Street potty seat, etc. He has even sat on the potty a couple of times with a big grin on his face. Yesterday, Tante (by her own choice I might mention) had the distinct pleasure of guiding Ian through his first potty adventure. It didn't quite go as planned. I won't go into detail but let's just say she probably won't be volunteering to help him poop on the potty in the near future.

Today was a new day however and he peed in the potty twice! This earned him lots of high fives, tons of praise and seven cookies. He loves these alphabet cookies from Trader Joe's and we just happened to need seven of them to spell out a congratulatory message. Once documented for posterity sake, said cookies were quickly devoured by the little Potty Animal.

I know potty training may very well be a long process with lots of stops and starts along the way...not unlike the process of grieving I suppose. Add this analogy to the long list of things I never expected would one day apply to me. If only I could look forward to high fives and alphabet cookies at the end of the road!

2009-07-30T22:40:00.006-05:00

1^st Annual Chris Diez Memorial Picnic

Saturday, August 8, 2009

11:00 am – 6:00 pm

Northwest Park in Park Ridge

Northwest Hwy & Glenview Ave, adjacent to Franklin School

Picnic area is near a large group of trees,

toward the school building

Softball, Volleyball, Water Balloon Toss and more!

Grills are provided

Bring your meat to grill, your beverages and a dish to share

6:00 pm – 8:00 pm

We have also rented Hinkley Pool for our group

Busse Hwy & Morris in Park Ridge

If desired, donations will be accepted for the American Brain Tumor Association (www.abta.org) on behalf of Chris

MINE!!

2009-07-27T22:00:00.003-05:00

This is officially my new least favorite word. Ian must say it and other forms of it (NO MINE, my, me, etc.) 150 times a day. Much to the chagrin of his mortified mother, he proudly yelled it at several kids at story time today. The only good thing about this development is that he says, "My baby," when people come near Claire. Guess that means he'll always have her back.

Thankfully, Claire doesn't speak a word yet.

Two years ago

2009-07-22T23:36:00.006-05:00

Two years ago tonight, Chris and I were soaking in our newborn son, Ian Matthew. He was born via c-section after a looooong day of not much dilating and a few scares with a dropped heart rate. He weighed 7 lbs. 14 oz. and was 21 inches long. He had a serious furrow of the brow and big brown eyes and he was perfect.

I look back on video we took of the first few weeks of Ian's life and Chris looks so happy. He is tan and fit and so alive looking. How maddening it is to me that he wasn't here today to take Ian to the fire station for a visit or play in the park. Father and son deserved those precious moments together. They deserved to share so many more moments over their lifetimes.

Mommy did the best she could to make today's birthday a good one. Ian was treated like a little prince (even while whining, "MINE" numerous times throughout the day...yes TWO has definitely arrived!). Thanks to Papa and Busia for arranging the visit to the fire station and to Tante for spending the day with us. We made the best of it. Happy Birthday, Mr. Man.

This is us without you, Chris. Today, Ian missed you.

Yesterday...6 months

2009-07-13T14:35:00.011-05:00

I can't believe I've made it this far. I have survived 6 months without Chris. It isn't a milestone I'm proud of or happy to have reached. I just remember in the very early days after he died, I couldn't imagine ever getting to this point. And yet, here I am.

Half of the "first year" is gone. Everyone says all the "firsts" are the hardest. I have found so far that the first Father's Day or birthday without him wasn't so bad. It is the realization that they aren't just the first days that will be celebrated without Chris. It is the fact that they aren't the last ones without him that hurts so badly. It breaks my heart every day.

Anyway, as always, I'm so glad I have the kids. They are doing really well and they bring joy into the lives of a lot of people. We have had a good summer so far. We have visited Lincoln Park Zoo, played in our backyard pool, taken our first train ride to Des Plaines, taken a trip to Apple Canyon (near Galena) with Ian's friend, Jack, gone on vacation with Granny and the McDermotts and had Ian's fire engine themed 2nd birthday party (actually birthday is July 22nd).

Claire started solid food recently and can sit up like a pro now. She is the raspberry blowing queen, she loves jumping in the "jumperoo" and she is sprouting some more hair. She has become a bit of a stinker in the sleeping department getting up at least once per night. I'm afraid I am going to have to do some sleep training with her soon. She weighed in at 15 lbs. 4 oz. at her 6 month checkup yesterday. I am convinced at least half that weight is carried in her thighs, poor thing.

Ian says a couple new words every day. His current favorites are cookie (as in give me one now), two (as in how old I am), baby (when directing me to set her on his lap), Tante and Uncle (which he says at least 30x per day) and poop (which he likes to do behind the shower curtain, in the closet or in between the front doors of the house). He understands the concept of counting to two, enjoys watching videos of fire engines and trains and has a new fondness for Elmo. We finished a great music class a few weeks ago and he gravitates towards pianos and organs. He pretends to play anything that looks remotely like either of these. He thoroughly enjoyed his vacation to Michigan. He adored the beach and would have played in the sand for days if I had let him. We also had some excitement last month when a gas line in front of our house had to be repaired. There is no better form of entertainment for a little boy than a bulldozer on your lawn for two days.

As for me, I'm still struggling with my new identity and new life. I have spent a lot of the last 6 months drowning my sorrows in food which is an old habit of mine. Not surprisingly, this has not produced good results and my grief is now literally weighing me down. I am slowly trying to refocus on being healthy and will be joining Weight Watchers in the next week. I have had success on this program before so I am hoping for similar results this time around. I figured if I put this plan in black and white for so many people to see, I would have extra incentive to stick to it!

I've been reading quite a bit at night lately in an effort to avoid sitting on the couch for hours watching bad t.v. A good book I would recommend is 90 Minutes in Heaven by Don Piper about a Baptist minister who was killed in a car accident. He was literally dead for 90 minutes but was somehow revived. During that time, he was in heaven. He describes his experience and his subsequent recovery in the book. It is a fascinating read. On a side note, I went to Barnes & Noble a few weeks ago to pick up a book or two on grief. I asked someone who worked there to show me where books on this topic were located. She took me over to the Self-Improvement aisle. Really? I need to improve myself because I'm grieving? And in what seemed like a cruel joke, the books on death were right next to the ones on dating. Just what a young widow wants to see!

Please continue to pray for us as we move along on this journey. Pictures of our adventures plus our visit to the cemetery for Father's Day can be viewed here.

Thanks for listening.

This is us without you, Chris. We miss you more every day.

P.S. I recently learned about a web-based business started by a woman whose mother died of a brain tumor. She donates all of her earnings from the business to the American Brain Tumor Association. It is called Threads of Gray if you want to visit or do some shopping.

Claire's Baptism

2009-06-12T00:21:00.007-05:00

Claire was baptized (again) on May 30th along with her cousin, Patrick. Fr. Carl led the ceremony along with Fr. Jim McDermott, SJ, my brother-in-law's brother (and Patrick's uncle). It truly was a lovely ceremony with just the right amount of reflection, reverence and humor.

We honored Chris by placing a picture of him holding Claire and two candles on a table near the baptismal font. The light from the candles created a warm glow around his image evoking an almost angelic tableau.

Claire wore Chris's wedding ring on a white ribbon around her neck. I usually wear the ring on a chain myself but right before we left the house that morning, I felt the inclination to have her wear it. During the ceremony, she kept her thumb hooked through it. While in reality I know it was probably just a fun toy for her, I sensed that she felt her daddy's presence that day.

Fr. Carl talked about the night of Claire's first baptism--the night Chris died. He spoke of how, in a matter of an hour, the people who had gathered in Chris's hospital room experienced the "bookends" of the Christian faith in a dramatic way. Both Claire and Chris were anointed with oil as they each received their sacraments. As incredibly sad and tragic as that night was, there were some beautiful moments and that was one of them. I feel a slight sense of peace knowing that father and daughter forever share that spiritual bond. Not that that is enough but I have to cherish any and all of the small blessings I have.

This is us without you, Chris. We miss you.

The Cemetery

2009-05-21T22:54:00.002-05:00

I visited the cemetery today for the first time since the day we buried Chris. It might seem odd that it took me four months to go. The marker for the grave was just recently placed in the ground so it felt strange to visit before now. Anyway, today was a beautiful day and Chris's plot is right in front of a big tree. If it weren't for the fact that his grave was inches away from me, it would have been a lovely way to pass some time.

As I was sitting there, an older woman came over with two watering cans and filled them up in the fountain near the plot. I assumed she worked there but after a few minutes, she said, "You lost your husband? Me too. It's been over 3 years and it is so hard." She asked what Chris died of and when I said a brain tumor she told me her husband also had died of cancer. Then she said, "We were married 42 years." As horrible as this sounds, I wanted to say, "What are you complaining about?! You had 38 more years than me!" So, as if to trump her, I said, "I was nine months pregnant when he was diagnosed. I have a 4 month old and a 22 month old. He died 22 days after the diagnosis." I don't know why I felt the need to blurt that out but I did. She immediately knelt down by me and asked who was helping me with my kids. We chatted a little more and she told me she would pray for me. She was sweet. I watched her tending to her husband's grave. She not only watered the flowers around it but also washed off the headstone. I found it very touching.

I hate the fact that I'm in this club now. A club where I can relate to people who hang out at the cemetery. And as a side note, I also don't like the fact that I was sitting on my own burial plot which was purchased at the same time as Chris's. Who knew I'd be doing that at 38 years of age? Then again, who knew 6 months ago that any of us would be here?

This is us without you, Chris. Today, I miss you.

4 months

2009-05-12T23:05:00.003-05:00

I don't know how it can possibly be four months already. Today just snuck up on me. It dawned on me yesterday that today was four months. How could I have forgotten? How could I have not been dreading this day all week? Am I already starting to "get on" with my life? I don't want to!

So much is unchanged: Chris's toothbrush still in the toothbrush holder, his shaving cream still in the medicine cabinet, his wallet, watch and cell phone still on his dresser, his clothes all still hanging in the closet, his favorite coffee mug still sitting in the kitchen...and yet everything has changed.

I keep wanting to call him at work to tell him about funny things that have happened. I see things in the paper or in a magazine that he would have liked and I think I should save them for him. I think about how our summer would look if he were still here.

1/3 of a year without him already past. When will it ever feel normal? My guess is never...

This is us without you, Chris. We really miss you.

Happy Anniversary...Happy Birthday

2009-05-01T21:56:00.006-05:00

Today is Chris's birthday. Just like our anniversary, it was a busy day so I wasn't able to dwell too much on the fact that he wasn't here.

I went to breakfast with Chris's mom, Phyllis, and his sister, Vickie. I had envisioned a sad gathering where we would all be crying over our coffee and eggs. While we did toast to Chris's life, we didn't spend the whole time together talking about him. Maybe that is the saddest thing to me. Life just keeps going on without him...even on his birthday.

I'm guessing if Chris were still alive, we would have gone to dinner at La Sardine tonight. It was one of his favorite French restaurants. It is where he took me on our first date, the night we got engaged and on many other special occasions. My stepsister, Ann, who also lost her husband to cancer 7 years ago, and I went to dinner there the night of my anniversary. Eerily enough, Ann and her husband, Ray, were also married on April 16th so it was an anniversary dinner for both of us. Anyway, no birthday dinner tonight (although I did have a blizzard from Dairy Queen which would have been another thing Chris would have wanted today).

I received some very thoughtful cards. messages and flowers from people on our anniversary and today. Of course, no one can give me what I really want the most but I appreciate the gestures just the same.

The picture above is from a trip Chris and I took to Charleston in 2006 to visit friends. I had just found out I was pregnant with Ian and we were so excited. The picture looks so tranquil and hopeful to me. Chris loved the outdoors and I feel like this is kind of what heaven must look like for him. So, this is my birthday present to him. I give the warm feelings, beautiful surroundings and precious memories of that day. I give them to him and to myself.

This is us without you, Chris.

Happy Birthday

3 months

2009-04-13T15:01:00.001-05:00

It was three months ago today that Chris died and I can't say that it feels any more real today than the day it happened. Slowly, some of the shock is wearing off but it still seems like this can't possibly be my new life. The math doesn't add up. Two babies plus one mommy minus one daddy. Life really isn't fair...

I have decided to start a blog to keep people updated on how we are doing. The Caring Bridge site was a helpful resource for us when Chris was sick but it has served its purpose. I hope to honor Chris's memory and share his legacy here.

Whenever I talk with people these days, some of the same questions seem to come up over and over again. To make life a little easier, I thought I would list the commonly asked questions I get and the answers below. I know it might seem a bit impersonal to update you this way but it is less exhausting for me.

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How are the kids doing?

They are both doing well. Click on this link to see recent pictures of them (http://gallery.me.com/doylediez#100074).

Ian is 20 months old and is definitely starting to act like the 2 year old he is soon to become. Time out and temper tantrums are part of our daily routine. Luckily, he is darn cute and very charming. He is also curious and independent (don't try to help him eat his dinner or brush his teeth!). He loves being outside digging in the garden, raking imaginary leaves, or playing catch. His vocabulary is expanding every day ("yes, peease" is the newest addition) and he makes his desires known even if he doesn't always have the words for them. He loves books, puzzles, music, his cat and his little sister. One of his favorite activities is to go to church where he likes to "conduct" the choir from the pews. He also regularly visits the choir with Uncle Harold during the mass to see the organ and singing up close. He is very aware of the fact that Chris used to spend time in the choir loft and occasionally shrugs his shoulders as if to ask, "Where is daddy?"

Claire is 3 months old and is a laid back and happy baby. Besides being adorable, she smiles easily and is very chatty. She is a good sleeper and she loves to watch her brother run around all day. Her latest trick is trying to roll over from her back to her stomach and she recently realized how tasty her hands are. Her sweet disposition is truly a gift.

How are you doing?

I'm doing o.k. The kids are the reason I get up in the morning and they really are fun. We are getting out and participating in storytime, playgroup, music class, etc. These activities all give me a sense of normalcy. I have even managed to go out to dinner once or twice with a friend or two. I think I'm functioning pretty well considering the circumstances.

How are you REALLY doing?

I have good days and bad days. I have a lot of bittersweet moments with the kids when I think about how Chris would have enjoyed playing with them and watching them grow. It breaks my heart every time one of them does something new and he isn't here to see it...especially Claire. I often look at her and think how Chris would have loved his little girl. She sometimes smiles out of the blue for no reason at all and I like to imagine that Chris is quietly whispering something to her that I can't hear.

Bottom line is that the heartache is going to be with me for a long time but I haven't stopped living.

Do you still have help?

Yes. Vickie still stays with us four nights a week and takes care of Ian in the mornings until she goes to work. They seem to enjoy each others company quite a bit. Ian spends Mondays at my mother-in-laws house and my aunt spends all day with us on Fridays. Chris's brother, Harold, also comes by several nights a week to play with Ian or drop off groceries. Last but not least, my mom still stays with us on the weekends. Other family members, friends, neighbors and people from church help out on other days. I have never felt the true meaning of, "It takes a village," more than now. We are blessed with a very large and selfless village.

Do you need anything?

We could still use your prayers, kind words and shared memories of Chris. We are still getting meals from various people. If you are interested in helping with this, please let me know. A friend set up an online calendar for people to sign up to provide meals and also to help with childcare.

Are you working or going back to work soon?

I am not currently working and don't plan to for at least the rest of this year. This will allow me time to adjust and give the kids as much of my time and energy as possible during this difficult period.

Most of you know that I left my full-time job in Human Resources in January, 2008, to take care of Ian. In the previous few months before Chris got sick, I was doing some contract recruiting from my house for my former company and a friend's company. Ideally, when I do return to work, I would like to continue to recruit from my home so that I can be around for the kids as much as possible.

Are you selling your house?

No. We aren't going anywhere for now. As the kids gets closer to school age, I will re-evaluate our situation and decide then if we should move.

I am making another major purchase however. I am trading both of our cars in and getting a minivan. It will make life a lot easier to have one car especially one that has a lot of room and storage space. I should have the minivan in my possession by the end of this week. I never thought I'd be excited about buying a minivan but I have to confess that I am!

Are you going back to choir/cantoring?

I have already gone back to choir. I sang for the Good Friday service and on Easter morning. It hasn't been easy going back but I don't know how to do church without singing. I have been in church choirs since high school. Plus, I know Chris would want me to go back and the choir is like a family to me. I plan to return to cantoring in May. This will be another difficult but necessary step in the healing process.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Several very challenging weeks lie ahead for me. Chris and I used to host Easter dinner at our house. This year, Vickie hosted for obvious reasons. She did a lovely job but there was no hiding the fact that something (or more accurately, someone) was missing.

April 16th would have been our 4th wedding anniversary. May 1st would have been Chris's 49th birthday. Both are days we would have spent dining out and enjoying a glass of wine.

May 30th will be the joint baptism of Claire and my nephew, Patrick. Even though Claire was baptized in the hospital the night Chris died, I want a more joyful celebration to tell her about when she is older.

Any positive thoughts and prayers you feel inclined to send my way on these days would be appreciated.

This is how we are coping as of now.

This is us without you, Chris.

We miss you.