You Will Laugh Again

Over the past couple months a theme continues to pop into my mind. Sometimes it comes as a result of a song I'm listening to, other times it's when a vision from two years ago pops up, other moments it's when I feel a beautiful sunset warm me from the inside out or watch my sons being boys. Everywhere I've turned, recently, it's there.

I was chatting with one of Austin's closest friends a few weeks ago. We were discussing conversations we had both recently had with others who had just gone through a tragic loss and commenting on how two years ago we couldn't imagine feeling happiness the way we do today. Because, two years ago it seemed like sadness was all we'd ever feel. Of course, that wasn't true, but at that point in time it certainly felt that way.

Gary Allan, in his song "Every Storm Runs Out of Rain," says it so clearly, "Every storm runs, runs out of rain. Just like every dark night turns into day..." When this song comes on the radio, I turn it up and sing along, knowing the words are so very true.

A couple days ago I was reading an entry from someone who had lost a child and kept shaking my head, "Yes, yes, this is so true!" Because she was speaking to the theme that had been running through my head...

"'You will survive this. It might feel like you won't right now, but you will.' Those were the words told to me by a lady at my son's viewing. I later learned that her 4 year old son died ... about 9 years prior. You never would have known it. I asked her in the following weeks, 'Are you happy? I mean really happy?' She knew what I meant. You feel like there will never be another happy day, another smile, another joy. She said, 'Yes, I am. Of course there are days when I am not, but most of the time now, I am.'" By Sabrina Baptista (Letter to Newly Bereaved Parents)

Even as I read these words again I smile, because every day I see and feel the joy and love of life creep more and more into my life. This year at Thanksgiving dinner, it was just my husband, my two other sons, one of my brothers, and myself. I was at one end of the table, my husband at the other, my two boys were on one side of the table, with my brother on the other side. As I looked at the side where my brother was sitting I could "see" Austin sitting next to him, I could feel my heart missing Austin. Then something was said that got my two other boys laughing and laughing and laughing, they couldn't stop. When it was finally quiet one of them would start laughing again. It was one of those laughters that you couldn't help but join, even though you didn't know what they were laughing at.

That persistent theme popped back in my mind.... You have survived! You will feel true joy again (even while while simultaneously missing Austin), because "Every storms runs out of rain.... every dark night turns into day...."

What were the boys laughing at? Me.... My youngest son had done something that made him laugh.The way he was laughing I thought he had said or done something inappropriate, so I asked him what he did. He said he couldn't do it again because I would get mad. I said, "Do it...", then he started laughing again. I responded, "I'm serious, I want you to do it again." To which he was quiet for a second and then he started cracking up again. My husband just sat there with a smirk. My son finally told me what he did.... he had farted (which I get mad when they do it period, let alone at the dinner table). So, every time I told him to do what it was he had done(that I wouldn't be a happy about), he simply obeyed and "farted again", then giggle away.... He got me there, he was only obeying.

Laughter filled the room.... I had much to be thankful for..... all I had to do was look around the table and smile.... and I could hear Austin laughing right along with us.

Slowing Down, If Only for an Hour...

Over the past 3 months my life has been like a whirlwind. I went from zero to 100 in a matter of a couple days and haven't stopped moving since. A year ago I probably would have struggled with the rat race, needing a little more calm as I worked through life. The fact that I am able to juggle things (even if it's rough) is one more sign that I am healing. That I have survived.

This doesn't mean that I have forgotten. Austin is with me everywhere I go, in everything I do. On the days I arrive at work early in the morning (before 7am), Austin greets me in the face of every construction worker who is also beginning his work day - working on the building being erected next to my office. As I walk into the lobby, to grab a sandwich, he joins me again through these workers, who are breaking for lunch. While driving, Austin continues to keep me company, through the music flowing out of the radio, or in the words I yell at the crazy drivers. (I can just hear Austin talking about how they need to learn to drive.) Austin comes upon me on the highway via the motorcyclist appearing in my rearview mirror. (I always say a prayer to keep that motorcyclist safe.)

Even though he is always with me, there are times I thirst for an hour of quiet (which are few and far between these days) where I can sit with my thoughts and remember Austin - where I can let tears roll down my face as I feel his presence, remember him, miss him.

This may sound odd to some, but it brings comfort and is soothing to the soul. That is how it is with grief.... things don't always make sense to the outsider looking in.... but that's ok. Even when you are able to enjoy life, while missing the person that's left you, you find things won't ever be the same. You find yourself doing things, that previously you may have found peculiar. By embracing this you give yourself permission to live.

Hugs....

It's early morning. I'm in my bedroom, in my house back in NY. I hear Austin walking up the stairs and think, "I need to go say hi." I walk up the first 5 steps, catching up to him. I say, "Hey" and give him a hug. He returns the squeeze, giving me one of his famous hugs. I smell his shirt, wondering if it's going to smell like it used to - like the degreaser and grease (from working on cars and projects), combined with his deodorant. It doesn't. There is only a very faint scent of fresh air. I'm a little disappointed. I always hated that degreaser/grease/deodorant smell, but now I miss it.

We continue to walk up the stairs, his long arm draped over my shoulder, my arm around his waist. It's natural, comfortable, real. I ask him, "So, what's on your agenda today." To which he replies, "Not much. I need to stop by the pizza place, but that's about it." I chuckle, because the "pizza place" was like another home to him.

I give him a side squeeze and tell him, "I wish you could stay. I sure miss you."

He smiles, replying, "I know, but I only have a couple days. I love you."

"I know."

My eyes open. It's 5am. Austin's 24th birthday and he's just given me a gift.

Happy Birthday Austin! Thank you for visiting me this morning. It makes it seem as though is was just a couple hours ago that I hugged you, not 2-1/2 years. Which lets me know that you are always with me... in my heart...in my memories.... wherever I go.

I love you, Bud!

No Guarantee...

Yesterday I was leaving a parking lot, pulling out very slowly onto the road because there were several bushes to my left, which prevented me from seeing the traffic coming from that direction. I ever so carefully inched my way into the road, keeping my eyes to the left to see what was there. When the front of my car was over a third of the way into the road my foot slammed on the brake, my eyes spotting my biggest fear - a motorcycle. I'm certain the motorcyclist saw my expression of horror and could read my lips, "Oh shoot!!!!"

Thankfully, the motorcyclist was also traveling at a very slow rate of speed and had time to slow down  and go around me. I raised my hand signaling, "I'm so sorry!" As he continued on ahead I had an urge to catch up to him, stop him, and tell him how I would never intentionally pull in front of anyone, let alone a motorcyclist. Tell him how sorry I was to have given him that scare, that pit in his stomach. But I didn't.... as he would have certainly thought I was a crazy lady.

Last night while watching the news, a report came on about a father traveling on his motorcycle with his 8-year old son, just a short distance from his home. A dump truck made a left turn and the motorcycle hit the truck, killing both the father and son. The pictures of the bike puts that sickening feeling in you, knowing there's no way anyone could survive that accident. I don't know what exactly happened, the accident is still under investigation. But, it's one more reminder how quickly a life can end when a body, traveling unprotected, hits a solid mass.

Tonight, I plop myself on my couch, with a Diet Coke in my hand, all settled in to relax and watch the Patriots-Raven 8:20pm game. The first thing I hear when I switch to the game channel is about one of the Raven players, who lost his brother in a motorcycle accident just after midnight this morning. The cameras keep zooming in on this player's face, and you can see the pain and sadness in his eyes, as he wipes away the tears. They show a quote from his Twitter entry, "Be thankful for your loved ones and tell them you love them. .. This is the hardest thing ever." (by Torrey Smith). Another reminder of how quickly someone can go from cruising down a highway to, in an instant, no longer being with us.

Ever since Austin's accident I have been torn on how I feel about motorcycles. On the one hand, I completely understand why people enjoy riding them. On the other hand, I want to tell everyone to stop riding them, that it's not worth it, because it only takes a split second for them to be in another driver's blind spot, to crest a hill with something in the middle of it and they don't have time to avoid it (a deer, rock, car....) and when they hit it there will be nothing to protect them.

Then I remind myself, there's no guarantee in life. There are people who do everything right (eat healthy, exercise regularly, don't drink too much, don't smoke...) but who have a heart attack and die. There are car accidents every day where people don't survive. In fact, "in the United States, injury is the leading cause of death among children and young adults and nearly half of these accidents occur in the home, according to the National Safety Council. That same group states that in 2002, there were more than 33,000 deaths and 8,000,000 disabling injuries that occurred in the home." (NSC)

Does this mean I should eat unhealthy, not exercise regularly, never ride in a car, and stay out of my house? No.... it's simply a reminder that life happens and there is no guarantee what tomorrow will bring. We need to make the most out of what we have and never stop livin' lovin' life!

Don't Blink...

One thing losing Austin has taught me is, "Don't blink... trust me friend, a hundred years goes faster than you think. So don't blink!" (Lyrics from Kenny Chesney's song, "Don't Blink")

5 years! When I mention to someone how long ago I moved I pause for a minute as I do the calculation and then shake my head in disbelief - almost 5 years! I can't believe it was that long ago.

Prior to moving we lived close to family, so if Mike and I wanted to go out for the evening we were, on occasion, able to take advantage of this fact and let the boys visit with grandma or grandpa.It didn't happen often, but there was a comfort knowing it could be done if we so chose. After we moved, we were on our own. If I wanted a couple's night out I cringed, because it meant hiring a babysitter. Being a little tight on funds in the beginning of our move it was hard to justify going out very often, because by the time we paid for our little outing and paid the babysitter a nice dent had been put in our wallets. So, it was rare for my husband and I to go out as a couple.

As the boys have gotten older it has become a little easier, but I still don't like to take too much time away from them, as they will only be in the house a little while longer. So, we spend most of our time "together" as a family - and I wouldn't trade this for the world. But it is nice (and healthy) to find a little adult only time here and there. In fact it's important, whether it's a girl's night out or "hubby and me" evening, to get a break and be refreshed.

My family has always done a lot together. In fact, most of our entertaining or visiting with other friends is done as a family, but sometimes it's good for Mike and I to do "couple" outings, without the boys. It helps us to remember why we got married in the first place - and that we actually enjoy doing things together.

The other day as I was driving and listening to the radio I started thinking... thinking about the Zac Brown concert I will be enjoying tomorrow with Mike and another couple.... thinking how busy our lives are.... thinking about how nice it will be to have an evening out, sans kids, perhaps the last for a while. Summer was full of great events with the boys, but it didn't allow much time of socializing with my friends (without the boys). And now, with football season upon us I won't have the opportunity for a while - it will be mostly kids and family time. So, I'm looking forward to this last little outing.

Don't get me wrong, I love being with my family. That's where most of my best memories come from. But, as a mom, I must admit there are times I wish for a moment of silence, a day of cleaning my house and having it stay that way for more than five minutes, a chance of simply coming and going without having to worry about someone else's schedule, an evening (or day) spending quality time with other adults.... basically, a little break for the "mom" responsibilities.

Back to my thoughts while driving....

My mind wandered to the fact that life is going fast and before I know it I will have all the adult time in the world and I won't know what to do with it. I need to take the opportunity now to soak up this time with the boys.... because in the blink of an eye my life will be different, the boys will be onto their next stage in life, as adults, and I will have an empty house. Because,

...In 4 years my middle son will be a senior in high school.
...In 5 years, my middle son will have graduated high school, and be a freshman in college. (Which reminds me, 5 years ago Austin graduated high school, began college, and we moved to another state.)
...In 6 years, my youngest son will be a senior in high school, it will be my last year with with kids in the house.
...In 7 years, my youngest son will have graduated high school, and be a freshman in college.

Seven years used to seem like a long time, but I know it's not. It will be here before I know it. When Austin graduated high school I remember saying to Mike, "If we hadn't had the other two boys our life would be very different now." That was five years ago, I can remember it like yesterday. And to think now, in seven years I will be saying, "Our life is going to be much different now. What are we going to do with our time?"

Life's forever changing. It never stands still. Grab onto the moments you have and enjoy them. Don't wish them away, but embrace them, knowing that you can never get that time back. Savor you time with your children. Take little breaks, then come back refreshed, ready to make more memories. Because....

"100 years goes faster than you think. So, don't blink!" Lyrics from Kenny Chesney's "Don't Blink"

Enjoy a little Kenny Chesney - "Don't Blink": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4f0p5KqdU9U

Quieter but Everywhere...

"No matter where you choose to be, In my heart I'll always see you....Everywhere" Lyrics from Everywhere/Tim McGraw

Music did it again, helped me put what I've been thinking into words. At the Tim McGraw/Kenny Chesney concert last night, I knew what songs would make me think of Austin, or so I thought. Tim McGraw started singing a song I've heard a thousand times. It's one about a guy who can't forget a girl he used to love. They had made the choice years ago to go their separate ways, but for the guy, the girl is still in his heart - no matter where he goes, he can't forget her and who she used to be. That's what I've always thought about while listening to the song.... until last night.

While sitting in the stands at Gillette Stadium, with the warm breeze blowing, people all around swaying to the music, singing along, tears began rolling down my face - those darn "Sneaky Tears". Here are the words I heard last night:

We (You) were born in this little town.... But ever since you said good-bye... Baby (Austin) you would be surprised...All the places you have been...In my heart I'll always see you... Everywhere... Now days... The conversation always turns to you... Still I know I'll hear your voice... And see you down the road... you're on every highway just beyond the high-beams... In my heart I'll always see you EVERYWHERE... words from the Lyrics of "Everywhere"

This put into words, what I have been thinking over the past couple months....

Things have been changing, once again. My life is getting busier. I'm finding I can handle more and more, the way I used to before Austin died. The pain and sadness has softened - become quieter. But one thing has stayed constant. No matter where I go, I think of Austin. No matter what the conversation is, my mind wanders to Austin. Austin is with me... EVERYWHERE!

Because he's always in my heart. And that will never change.

FEARS....Friend or Foe?

"There really is 'healthy fear.' For example, it's very healthy to fear drinking before you drive. However, fear should not be allowed to run rampant through our lives so that it becomes such a devastating factor that it produces failure. The problem is not getting rid of fear, but using it properly.... We must learn to distinguish those helpful fears from the harmful ones. When you can do that, fear is a friend. Until you can learn to do it, however, fear can be an enemy." ~ Zig Ziglar

I have been sitting on this entry, writing and rewriting it (both on "paper" and in my mind) for the past year and a half, as different events have stirred up feelings and I have to distinguish between the fear I feel - keeping my unhealthy fears at bay, while listening and reacting to the healthy ones.

A couple of winters ago I attempted to learn to snowboard, which I'm sure was an interesting site to see. I was an expert on the bunny hill, if I do say so myself. Then came the real test - the real beginner slope. I made it on the ski lift without falling. I made it off the ski lift without making a scene. I fastened the board on my feet and started down the slope. At that point, I think my snowboard had a magnet that was attracted to the trees. Every time I started to go, the board automatically moved towards the trees. No matter what I did I was still headed to the woods. The closer I got, the more nervous I became. Fear set in. I knew I was going to crash into a tree and probably break a bone. The more the fear set in, the more nervous I became and the more I froze. I could not control my board. My brother, being the patient younger sibling that he is, graciously helped me by holding my hands and guiding me down. Unfortunately, my legs slowly became fatigued and felt like jello. At that point I had to confess to my brother that I could no longer snowboard down the mountain. I had to take the snowboard off and walk down the slope. I told him that he could continue down by himself, so I wouldn't embarrass him as I walked instead of snowboarding. He laughed and said he didn't mind....

This was a healthy fear. If I hadn't listened to my instinct and what my body was telling me I, most likely, would have been seriously injured and/or taken out and injured some innocent skier as I tumbled down the slope, out of control.

Then came my dilemma. My boys learned how to snowboard that day also, the same time I did and with the same instructor. They were up on the mountain, snowboarding and having snow ball fights. Part of me was very proud of them, but the other part was nervous. All I could envision was them crashing, out of control, into a tree. Should I let them continue? Would they get hurt? Would they be the next person coming down on a stretcher, pulled by the ski patrol? Possibly. But, I knew they were much more coordinated and a lot more fearless than me, but were they safe? Yes, they could fall and get hurt, but they were in good hands. I decided to, as Zac Brown says, "Let it go."

If I had listened to my fear, I would have been doing the boys a disservice. The boys were in good hands, learning how to snowboard and enjoying the day. Yes, they could fall and get hurt. But, more likely, they would learn how to snowboard, have a great time, and make memories that would last a long time. Of course, they would also find a new activity to beg me to do every time it snowed or they were bored during the winter. They better find a way to earn money to buy a snowboard and ski lift passes.

As a mom I worry. This started the day Austin was born. Some of my worrying was justified, some was a result of an overactive imagination and had to be ignored. This continues today with my other two boys, but to a further degree. I have now experienced what is every mother's fear. I know what can happen and have to ask myself, "Am I being over-protective or realistic?" "Is this something I should let the boys do, even though there is risk? Or is the risk too high that I need to say 'no'?"

Life is a risk. There are things we do where we could get hurt, physically or emotionally, but it doesn't mean we shouldn't do them. Our challenge in life is deciphering what fear we should listen to and what fear is unrealistic.... To really live, we must face some of our fears. To not do so would deny ourselves the life we were meant to have!

(I hope to write about some of these fears in the near future - but seeing how it took me over a year to finish this entry, we shall see...)