Ballet

I'm sitting at the YMCA right now. Lots of tiny little ballerinas going into their class. It must be father daughter day because the girls are all excited that their dads are here. The last time Rachels dad got to see her as a ballerina, he was in a wheelchair because it hurt his abdominal area too much to walk. The last time her dad got to go to an event with her, she was just three years old.

Most days I try and be grateful for what we had. Today it just pisses me off.

The day came and went

September 17 was a good day. It was an emotional day. It was an exhausting day.

Two years ago, September 17 was a much worse day than it was this year. Last year wasn't as good as this year. But the sadness is like a flood that suddenly gushes into my life. I'd been really not doing well a couple of days before the 17th. In fact, I never once cried on the 17th. But I cried like a baby two days before.

I am managing everything at home fairly well. But you know what this life is? It's like when you live in a town that you aren't meant to be in. It never really feels like home. That's how Jim always felt about Atlanta. He didn't mind it - he knew how to get around and he enjoyed some of the things about living in the city. But overall, it never felt right to him.

That's how my life feels. Like I'm just waiting. Waiting until I get home. Waiting until home comes back to me. Waiting until I'm living the life that feels right. I'm performing the functions of every day life. I know all the roads and the places I want to go. But there's that nagging feeling in the back of my brain all the dang time.

I wake up, he's not here. I'm still on my side of the bed. I still secretly hope I'll wake up one morning and he'll be there.
I get downstairs - no coffee. Coffee in the morning meant "Jim" to me. I'm not much of a coffee drinker. No point in making it now.
I get both kids ready so I can drop Rachel at school. If he was here, he'd be walking her to school and then walking to work from there. Jake could sleep in as late as he wanted and I'd just stay here with him.
I go to SportsCore and check in. I don't see the point of my checking in, really. They don't need to track how often I'm exercising. Employees of the Kohler Company get a major discount if they exercise 3 times a week. Oh yeah, Jim isn't there anymore.
I clean up a bit. No point in that. He's not here. Who cares?
...

And so goes my day. I'm just living the life that's wrong for me. This isn't what I planned. This isn't what feels like home.

Each day I try and remind myself that I'm just building my new normal. But of course, what made my life "normal" was Jim. And new normal just doesn't seem as nice and loving and whole and full as the normal I had before.

No matter how much volunteer work I do, no matter how much I go out, no matter how many classes I take, no matter who I spend my time with, Jim isn't there. Jim isn't at home waiting for me. Jim is home to me. Jim looked like home, smelled like home, acted like home - he was home. This life is just a house I happen to be in while I manage our lives. I don't know. Maybe one day I'll wake up and realize that this feels like home again. But even then, it won't be the home I had with Jim. Our home.

Cancer ruined my everyday life. It ruined my family. It ruined my home.

That first party

Jim and I were friendly when we started working at Dick's Sporting Goods. That's how I met him, you know. He worked in Bikes, I worked in Clothing. His friend Mark and I were friends. Mark and I used to stand at the edges of our areas (we weren't allowed outside our "area", be it Bikes or Clothing or Shoes or whatever...) and chit chat. Mark would tell me about his girlfriend and I would blather on about some stupid plan that I'd probably been thinking about at the time...like backpacking through Europe for six months. So anyway, Mark and I were friends, but I really didn't know Jim. We were just friendly.

So one night, a guy that was working with us decided to have a party. Jim and his buddies walked through the store and asked everyone if they were going. At the time, one of the other girls in clothing really liked Jim. So when he came by and asked if I was going, I said "Sure!" Well one thing led to another and Jim told me to go to his house first. We would meet up with Mark, and we'd all go together.

So the minute Jim left I called this girl that liked Jim and said "Here's your big chance! Let's go to the party with them!" And she whined that she didn't want to drive that far back into town. Hm. So I was stuck (it was stuck in my mind...) going to this party with two guys. There was ANOTHER guy I liked that was working with us, and I hoped he'd be there.

So I ran home, and explained the situation to my brother Tom. I wore a carefully planned outfit of Tom's awesome plaid shirt bloused over cutoff shorts. Braided belt. Tevas. It was a total summer-I-look-cute-like-this-all-the-time-no-this-wasn't-planned outfit. And cut me some slack. It was the early 90s.

So I went to Jim's parents house to meet him and Mark. Just to let you know how young I was: I actually wondered where his parents were, if they would be okay with us drinking a beer in their basement, and if my mom would be mad if she knew I was at a boy's house without his parents at home. I was in COLLEGE! Anyway, we only stayed there for one beer and left.

We went to the party. The guy I liked wasn't there. The girl that liked Jim never did show. I ended up sitting with Jim, Mark and their friends Sean and Eric. Oh my goodness were they fun guys. Jim especially. I remember he made me laugh so hard that night. Who knows what he was saying. I just know I thought he was hilarious.

Things wrapped up at the party and the guys were going out to a bar. I wasn't 21 and I didn't have a fake ID. I rrrrreeeeaaaaallllllyyyyyyy wanted Jim to ask me out. So I sort of lingered by my car with him and Mark. And he didn't ask me out. So I kept chatting. Still. Nothing. Finally we started talking about getting together as a group and he said "I'm not going out with that girl from work. I'm not interested in her, and you can't make me." Um, DUH. I don't want you to go out with HER! So I finally said "No, Jim, with me." He kind of looked dubious like I was going to trick him into going out with her. And finally said "Oh, well ok!" I don't know what Mark was doing or saying or thinking at the time - he was standing there to witness the whole fiasco. I just remember being so nervous.

So that's the first party we went to. The night I asked him out. The first time I realized he was totally awesome. I was 20 years old. Here I am 16 years later. I really won the lotto that night. What if that girl from work had decided to come out!? What if the guy I liked had been there? But those scenarios weren't meant to be. I was meant to see Jim for the wonderful funny guy that he was. My life was so much richer for his gentle demeanor and his wonderful sense of humor.

Well here's something interesting

I went to see the therapist today. I was telling her that we were approaching the three year mark for Jim's passing. And she looked at her notes and looked at me. And looked at her notes and looked at me. And then she said "Kate, you're only approaching the two year mark, and what your experiencing is completely normal."

Good God. It seems like forever since he passed away. But it hasn't even been two years.

Well I guess therapy is worth it if only for that - she did the math and thusly validated that I was completely normal. At least in terms of my grief!

Missing Him

This post isn't to say that I'm not doing well. I am. We have a lot of happy times around here and we've been enjoying our summer.

But lately, I am overwhelmed with disappointment when I realize that he is, in fact, not coming back. I actually still find myself wondering when he's coming home.

I have decided to start therapy again. I need some help. We are approaching the three year mark of Jim's passing and I still hurt just as much, despite my best efforts to be happy. And it's honestly not that I'm not happy. I have a lot going on - lots of positive things to look forward to. The kids are great and I am trying to be grateful for what I have. But sometimes it's easy to lose sight of what I do have and just wallow in the disappointment that my every plan for the future was wrapped up in someone who has passed away. My daily life was focused on three people - and now we're down to two. And much as I love my kids, it was Jim that made my days worth living. He was my rock, my safe haven, and he recharged my batteries. It's just a different relationship with kids. We are there to recharge their batteries - not to draw from them.

We won the title "Best in Show" for our corrugated boat. Jim would have loved to have been there. He would have been in that boat and dressed as a viking in a heartbeat. And he would have reveled in the sheer silliness of it all.

Lately I desperately wish things could just go back to the way they were. On September 12, 2006 Jim seemed perfectly fine and healthy. On September 13, 2006, he was sick as a dog and we had to bring him to the emergency room. Not that I would want him to go back to living unknowingly with cancer. But I want to go back to that moment when he was healthy. Before the cancer started. When we were a family. When I had my best friend and my husband.

Every day is a chance to make a new start and I'm really striving for that. But oh, how I miss making that new start with Jim.

Jim's 40th Birthday

Today is Jim's 40th birthday. I can't believe it. Here we are. The life we were aiming for, but with one major component missing.

Goodness gracious I do miss him. We all do. I would have wanted to have a big party. He would have wanted to have a small party. We would have had a small party, because more often than not, I deferred to Jim. Sometimes I wonder what we would be doing on any given day. Today I wonder if he knows we miss him. I wonder if he can see the party - a cookout in the backyard with a few friends and neighbors. Kids running all over the place. That was Jim's kind of party.

I didn't overindulge today, but we did hit Culvers for some greasy burgers, rootbeer and frozen custard in honor of Jim.

He really was the best, wasn't he? If we improve as we age, I imagine that Jim would have been about perfect at 40. He was perfect to me - at 25, at 30, and now, at 40.

Visit to Iowa

Okay, first I should clarify: the night I overindulged, nothing actually *happened* - I didn't dance on a bar, I didn't do anything my kids or parents would be embarrassed about. (Although I am...) I just drank too much, felt sad about my life circumstance, cried, got sick, and moved on.

This last weekend we went to Iowa for Memorial Day weekend. It was my first trip to Iowa. It's not a real vacation hotspot, but it was a perfect trip for us. This was among our first adventures as a little family. We went to visit my college girlfriend Darcy, and her family. I packed the kids up and we drove to the middle of nowhere southeast Iowa. The kids were *amazing*. Granted, I had snacks out the ying-yang, and heaven knows nothing motivates my kids like food. But we enjoyed a five hour drive free of whining, fighting, complaining, or even asking how long was left in the car. We stopped twice. Jake's self potty training venture has been hugely successful. He rode diaper free, with no accidents, for five hours. Cool!

We had a fun weekend with Darcy, Rob, and their three girls. And you know what we did? Nothing, and it was great. The kids played in the backyard and enjoyed the swingset. We had a bonfire every night. They chased fireflies, played with squirt guns and rode bikes. We ate s'mores, gorged on Darcy's homemade potato salad (yum) and Rob's awesome grilling, drank a few beers and just watched the kids play. We talked, and talked, and talked. And then we talked some more. It was nice.

The drive home was equally as impressive as the ride there, especially given that a portion of I-80 was closed and I took a rather lengthy detour (read: lost) through a city. I'm not sure, but it might have been Moline, IL. In any case, the kids we fabulous and I was grateful for that.

I try and remind myself that Rome wasn't built in a day. If I can't remind myself I am fortunate to have friends who will pick up the slack and remind me that not every day is perfect. This was a perfect weekend, though. This is the kind of vacation I hope my kids remember: having fun, chasing fireflies, eating s'mores and enjoying friends.

Thanks, Dar and Rob, for a lovely weekend.