Austin's Gift

My son: "Mom, Austin had really nice friends, didn't he?"
Me: "Yeah, he sure did."

That was a mini-conversation I had with my middle son the other day, after a fun week-end with one of Austin's friends.

Right after Austin died, the outreach from Austin's friends was amazing. I think I've mentioned it before, but it's worth stating again, I was blown away by how much his friends just reached out to us to let us know they were thinking of Austin and of us. Some we had known since childhood, others we had just met at the calling hours and funeral, some we had never met in-person (but have heard their name from Austin in the past).

Sometimes I wonder if others think of Austin as much as I do, if he's still touching their lives. Then out of the blue a letter comes from one of his friends - via mail, Facebook, or email - letting me know he's still present in that person's mind. And every once in a while, we are blessed with an in-person visit from one of his friends.

Austin's friends goof with my other two sons as though they've always known them and my boys soak it in. My sons feel a part of Austin through his friends and love it!

I don't know if Austin's friends realize they are a gift to us from Austin. Every single one of them, whether we chat with them once a month, once a year, or only one time ever, is a gift. Every one holds a piece of Austin and gives us a glimpse, a reminder, of who he was. We are blessed to have been given this gift from Austin.

To all of Austin's friends, thank you for sharing Austin with us! It means more than words can say.

They Like Me!

November 2007, Austin was in the ER with an abscessed tonsil. Having arrived around midnight, being pumped with serious pain medication, and finally having the problem resolved around 7am, we were more than ready to get out of the hospital. The only problem, as soon as it was time for the nurses to begin the discharge process the Emergency Room became suddenly busy. So we had to wait, and wait, and wait. Which became amusing in and of itself.

At some point, during the waiting process, Austin decided it was time to go. He peeked out of the curtain area of the bay we were in and stated "Let's go." I explained we needed to wait until we were discharged. He didn't like that answer and decided to figure out an "escape" plan. He stated he needed to use the bathroom, which was down the hall, around the corner. I wasn't sure if I trusted him to come back and gave him strict instructions that he could go to the bathroom but had to come right back, the same way he went. He assured me he would, and as he walked down the hall he looked back mischievously. He pretended to go the other way, glancing back to catch my evil eye warning him not to do it. He was a good boy and did come right back.

Shortly upon his return he spotted a cart of dirty linen rolling by the room, being pushed by one of the hospital staff. He declared, matter-of-factly, that we could escape. All he had to do was climb into the cart of dirty linen and have me roll him out of the hospital. There, problem solved! I think he watched too much TV. I laughed, shaking my head, letting him know we weren't going to sneak out.

As he grew more restless, still feeling no pain, thanks to the medicine they'd administered earlier, he came up with other ideas of how to get out of the place that was holding him hostage. I just laughed, reminding him we had to wait and that he could not cross the threshold of the curtain doorway. He'd stand with his toes just over the edge of the line of the "doorway", rocking back and forth like a little kid testing the limits, as if to say, "See, I'm not leaving, but my toes are over the line. I really want to get out of here, please!" Then all of a sudden, with a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his face, he looked at me and declared, "I know why they won't let me go. They liiiike me!" Then he turned around, came all the way back into the room, jumped up on the bed, satisfied with his epiphany.... they liked him!

When I was home this past June, running around, getting ready for the "Forever Young.... Remembering Austin" event I smiled as I thought of this story for the hundredth time. When I got to the last part, tears pooled in my eyes, and I quietly said "Yeah Austin, we didn't want you to go... because we liked you, we really liked you. Correction, We LOOOOVE you.... I love you."

Can't Imagine vs I've Been There Too

I have been trying to put my finger on one of the bigget differences between losing Austin and losing my dad. After all, both were sudden and completely took us by surpise. Both will be missed immensely by all the people who's lives they touched. In fact, I had to chuckle as I realized just how much they were alike when it came to loving people.

The differences that jumped out, when I would thought about it quickly, were: one was my son and the other was my father.... one was in an "unnatural" order to lose someone, the other was the "natural" order.... Then one day it hit me....

"I can't imagine" vs "I know, I lost my dad (or mom) last year....."

When you lose a child the majority of people have never experienced that kind of loss, they cannot understand, and don't want to even try to imagine it. And, I don't want them to ever understand. Almost unanimously (with the exception of the few who have been there) each person's comment has been, 'I cannot even imagine...."

However, when you lose a parent, especially at my age, there are a large number of people who have treaded those waters before you. You are not alone.... There is comfort in knowing that, although you miss your dad (or mom) deeply, the memories keep you going. Just look at everyone around you who is living proof of of this.

Just the other day, I shared with a friend that ever since my father died (a little over a month ago) I have had peace. I think part of it is because I know he's in Heaven with Austin. As crazy as it sounds, there's a comfort to the thought of Austin being with his Grandpa. But now I think perhaps there is another reason - so many others have been where I am now (including my father himself) - so many others have mourned and continue enjoying life and savoring the memories they have of their father (or mother).

While driving back to NY after my dad died I told my boys - we have a very, very good life. We have been very blessed. Unfortunately, no matter how good it is, we all have to deal with this "crappy" part of life. And that is what it is..... "crappy"! Later I stated, "If only your Grandpa hadn't been such a loving man, darn him, then it wouldn't hurt saying good-bye." I turned to them and winked, because there is no way I would want it any other way. I have been blessed to have had a father who loved me unconditionally for the past 46 years! They have been fortunate to have had a grandpa who has loved them (and bragged about them) for as long as they have lived.... we have been blessed and I am so thankful for that. Because, even though I miss my Dad immensely, I wouldn't trade the 46-1/2 years he's been my dad for anything.

And I think those who have lost a parent would concur....

Thank you Dad for being the best Dad a girl could ask for (and the best Grandpa to my boys and best Father-in-Law to my husband). We have been blessed!

Getting the Most Out of Life

There's No Guarantee.... so make the most of what you have!


Two who knew what it meant to live life to the fullest!

 The past week and in a half has been a whirlwind and it was over in a blink. While driving home on Sunday I realized it was just a few hours short of being a week since we got the news.... my dad was gone, his heart had stopped beating. It seemed like the entire week was less than a day.... it seemed surreal. It's amazing how with in the matter of seconds, one phone call changes your life. How quickly you are reminded life really is short, how much we truly take for granted that those we love will always be here, especially when they are healthy and full of life.

I have always known, in the back of my mind, that my parents will (most likely) die before I do. I have thought, more recently, that they are getting older. But, in my mind, I have also figured they would live long, long lives. In my mind, my dad was going to live well into his 80's. Afterall, he was in great shape, especially for having just turned 76. He was doing boot camp (see blog link below) and had more energy than I have most days. But I guess his heart decided it was tired of beating, it was time for Dad to join Austin in Heaven.

Disbelief was what everyone said they had when they heard the news. They had to read the obituary or Facebook posting two or three times to make sure their eyes weren't playing tricks. How could it be? He was "young at heart", much younger than 76, at least he looked much younger, acted much younger, even had the energy of someone much younger. He definately lived more life in 76 years than most have!

As we sorted through the plethora of photos (and I mean hundreds and hundreds of them) I realized how much he had truly done - the trips he took (both simply for fun and for volunteering his medical skills), the people he visited (friends and family), the family and friends he loved and opened his home to for meals and sometimes a place to stay - he made the most out of the hours, days, months, and years he had lived. He squeezed so much in between the long hours he worked, taking his famous cat-naps and then being ready for more.

Isn't that how we should live life? Enjoying what we have been givien and loving those around us and.... sharing what we have with others. Hmmmm..... I wonder where Austin learned his loving spirit from? I think it just may have been from the man who just joined him - his Grandpa!

Maybe we all could learn a little something about how to truly live life. Anyone who knew Austin and my dad, knows they both lived life to the fullest. They did not always do it the same way, not at all. Austin was much more of a risk-taker, a thrill seeker...... Dad not so much. He was more cautious. In other ways they did live life the same. They both loved adventure (in different ways, but adventures all the same), loved to go places. They both loved people, always willing to help others. They both left their mark on people, more than they will ever know. They both loved life.

"Sometimes I get so caught up in the flow of life that I don’t realize life is going by. We aren’t guaranteed a single moment. And I cannot guarantee that exercise will help you live longer.  (and since Arlen has been active his whole life I don’t know what extra time it may have given him). What I can guarantee is that exercise and good nutrition can help you live better, happier, healthier.  Arlen enjoyed the benefits of exercise.  He LOVED working out with his group.  And when we had to tell them today it was clear they LOVED working out with him." Jeremy Biernat - Founder of Tall Trainer Fitness Systems (Boot Camp that Dad loved!)

 Here is a link to the full blog Jeremy posted after my dad died. Check it out if you have a chance.... and then go get the most out of the life you've been given!

http://www.healthclubwithoutwalls.com/2013/04/i-cant-believe-hes-dead/

Listening to That Small Inner Voice

Who are you being nudged to call?

As I think back over the past (not quite) 3 years, reflecting on what I've learned and how I've grown, one area pops into my mind frequently..."listening to that small inner voice, that little nudge, that unexplained feeling that I need to do something." These "somethings" range from calling someone (not sure why, I just feel I need to let them know I'm thinking of them) to sending someone a card or gift (just because) to writing about a specific topic in this blog. When I get these feelings I can't explain why I feel that way, I just do - some call it a "gut feeling" or a whisper from God.

But it doesn't stop there. When I've followed through on those "nudgings," more times than not, it ends up with the recipient letting me know they were having a rough day and needed that little "thinking of you" call, note, or gift.  That blog entry - which I suddenly got the urge to write out of nowhere - ends up being exactly what a reader had been feeling, helping them through something they were struggling with, or simply lifting their spirits. 

A continued reinforcement of the importance of listening and acting when you hear that "little voice."

Listen to that little nudge...there's a reason for it, even if you don't know why.

Today, I was clearly reminded of the importance of listening to the little nudge.

A year ago (maybe even a little longer ago than that) I had this strong tug that I needed to send the driver of the truck that Austin hit a note letting him know we did not have (nor have ever had) any ill-feelings towards him. We never blamed him for the accident, because that's just what it was...an accident - being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

But I never "found" the time to sit and put my thoughts down, never sent him this message. About a week ago this thought popped into my head, "There's no need to write the letter anymore." I don't know why that thought hit me, until today...

Today, I read the obituaries from back "home". The driver (of the truck that Austin hit) passed away from a brain tumor, he was only 52 years old. I will never know if he had needed my message, but I do know that I should have listened to that "small inner voice". As I'm typing this entry another thought hits me, Austin can now tell him himself....

The more I live, the more I realize the importance to listen to that nagging feeling, that little nudge - even if you don't know why.... 

Life is too short to let those moments pass, and you never know when your words and actions will be a gift to someone who needed it at just that moment....

"Never ignore a gut feeling, but never believe that it's enough." Robert Heller

(Post edited 1/19/2022 for grammatical purposes and image added.)

Letting Go...

Two little words that seem so simple, but can be so difficult to actually do. But, when you do them, you either free yourself or free someone else....

"Letting Go!"

As a mom, I know I have to let go of my children, little by little, in order for them to grow and mature. Sometimes it's a piece of cake, other times not so much so.

There are times when I suddenly realize I've been letting go and wasn't even aware it was happening. It occurred slowly and naturally. One day I blink and realize my child doesn't need me the way he used to, he's becoming more independent and I've let go a little more. He suddenly can tie his own shoes, order his own meal at McDonald's, read a book by himself, carry his own sports bag withoug tripping over it, do his homework without help. I smile at who he's becoming.

Other times I feel the tug of war - I know I must let go, but I am scared to death to do it. Letting go when he gets on the school bus the first time, heading to kindergarten, at times peeling him from my leg as he is screaming and crying to stay with me.... my heart is breaking, but I must let go. Letting go when he goes on his first date, knowing there's a good chance he will have his heart broken in the near future.... my heart breaks thinking of it, but I know I must let go. Letting go when the car keys are handed over for the first time, kissing him good-bye as he gets behind the wheel and drives down the road into the traffic with all the other drivers....my heart pounding as I imagine what could happen, but I know I must let go. Letting go when he heads to college, gets his first apartment, no longer having to be home by midnight.... knowing what mischief we could get into, but I know I have to let him become his own person, I must let go....

.... Because, if I don't "let go" when it is the "correct" time to, my son(s) will not grow, he will not get one step closer to the ultimate goal - of being an independent, responsible young man. The only way this can happen is for me to suck it up and "let go" - even if I don't want to.

As I think about "letting go" I suddenly realize that is excactly what I've done over the past two and a half years, when it comes to Austin. Actually, it started the day he died. I had to let him go physically. After a couple months I let him go in my mind (not my in my memory, but in accepting he was gone). You would think this was the final letting go, but it wasn't. It didn't end there. Letting go when someone dies takes a while - if not a life time.

For me, letting go includes accepting not just in my mind, but also my heart, that Austin is gone. It's letting go of feeling I'm letting Austin down when I allow his brothers do something he didn't do, or at least at a younger age (but that's part of being the oldest child, being the guinnea pig for parenting). Come to think of it, there were a lot of things Austin did, that his brothers haven't had the opportunity to do and may never.... It's letting go of the guilt when I find myself enjoying life and truly living it, realizing that even though Austin's life here on Earth has ended mine hasn't. It's letting go of the fear that if I stop feeling the pain I will start forgetting Austin. In fact, that's when I realize I will never forget Austin, and by letting go of the fear I can now embrace the joy I feel when I remember him - true joy.

Some of the "letting go" I'm not even able to put into words right now. I know I've let go, I can feel it.... I can feel the freedom of letting go, I can feel the growth from letting go, I can feel the love I have for Austin from letting go.

"Grieving is a necessary passage and a difficult transition to finally letting go of sorrow - it is not a permanent rest stop." Dodinsky

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.