"Big Jump, Mommy!"

     As I sat out on the deck on our first family vacation since 2019, I stood up and looked out over the marina admiring the boats and the beautiful water. It was Father's Day, and I was missing my person immensely. Mostly because I knew how much he would’ve loved this spot. It was a new adventure and finding relaxing accommodations for our family’s size and standard was quite the chore. So, we were usually slow to try new places.  Sitting there in a daze, I knew baby Amira was close by. She is usually in my pocket.  She was jumping up and down watching her reflection in the paned patio door. One of the times she jumped so high it surprised me! " Wow, do it again! ", I nudged.  Amira proudly jumped again. She then turned to me and asked, "And again?" "Yes", I said with a smile. 

     After about a half dozen jumps Amira looked at me with a big smile, "Mommy, jump! Big jump, Mommy!" But I didn’t want to jump. I don’t want to jump. Big jumps, little jumps- I don’t want to.  Jumping is laborious and seemingly unbecoming of a mom- of -many in her late thirties. It's awkward. But my sweet therapy baby wanted me to join in her moment of wonder. Of course, I started to cry. Making the decision of whether to jump or let her down added to the emotional overwhelm that was already so heavy in that moment. Like she usually does, Amira came over, lifted my head with her tiny hand and said, " It’s OK Mommy." So, I mustered all of the strength I had, and I jumped.  I’m sure that’s going to have some poetic and prophetic meaning at some point in the future, that’s why I’m putting it here. But I don’t feel it right now. I’m just here... not wanting to jump. 

Guest Post-The Cheerleader

The boys had their first basketball game last weekend and they had fun. It was so exciting, and in true Wheeler fashion the whole squad was there to root them on! With it being their first basketball game ever, I got up that morning very sad. I was thinking about the fact that their person was missing out on this new adventure.  A very important person. This person was an amazing cheerleader, with a loud, passionate voice to root Max and Elijah on. It was missing. While enjoying the squeaky sneakers on the court floor and the unusually loud buzzer, I noticed my sister. My sister was being a mother, and she was in her element. She was the loudest voice in that gym. She was up and down that court, rooting everyone on, not just Max and Eli. My sister was Keisha-, the captain of the cheerleading team at Arlington High School and I just knew she was going to do a cartwheel! I know this game was for the boys, but to see my sister this happy and engaged made my heart so happy. There are a lot of tough, stupid days.  And although we didn't win the game, that experience was a win.

by Kandace H. 

All Emptied Out

Waking up earlier than usual, dentist appointments, therapy sessions, meetings, meet-ups, etc.  all got overwhelming and I was tapped by the end of the week.  I actually had to stop and cancel my last meeting on Friday because I was just done.  I had no more go-go juice.  Coupled with the myriad of emotional highs, lows, triumphs, and trying moments-this week wore me out.  I was talking to one of the kids and they expressed a thought that I recently had myself "How do we keep doing this? How does it actually work?"  This referring to our abrupt, unwelcomed reality. So here are some revelations and realizations from the past seven days:

My Sleep

For the most part, I've been able to sleep better than I could have anticipated. Even in the beginning, with the right tea, essential oils and clearly much prayer from the village-sleep was had.  The mornings would try to choke me out, though.  As time has progressed, I've learned that sleep hasn't been a friend.  Most people say, "Get some sleep" or "Hope you rest well" and that's normal and I usually don't have a response.  But lately I'm learning that sleep can be both a friend and a foe. Yes, it closes the chapter on the day and allows me to put one more mark under the "Days I've Survived the Stupid", column. But no amount of sleep prepares me to face another day without my person. Our person.  It just reminds me that I am where I am. This is crazy; sleep isn't a friend at all. 

My Son

This week I watched Christian pour himself into leading adorable Kindergarteners in worship at Vacation Bible School. He couldn't sleep, he was so excited to wake up early each morning and go to his volunteer "job." He spoke with excitement about the kids' enthusiasm and dance moves. The songs spoke of God's design for us, and His creative nature.  As we walked through the parking lot at the end of each session, Christian would high- five the little ones on their way to the car.  This was his element.  I marveled at how God used my son, my  grieving son, to minister to others.  As the week waned, he was exhausted-physically and spiritually.  So my mommy-meter went off, and I took him aside and asked him about his Dad.  He needed that invitation to get some things out.  But for the rest of the weekend he was somber, particularly Sunday.   "At church they sing songs about God being all of these things, but He wasn't a healer. He did not heal him.  Everyone else is going home after church to hang out with their Dad, but not me." 

These beautiful children, deserve their Dad. 

The songs are still hard for us.

 My Soul

A few weeks ago, a song came to mind and even now I don't remember when or where I first heard it.  I sang it out loud to see if the kids remembered the rest of it.  The lyrics that did come to mind were "Awake , my soul, and sing; sing His praise aloud."  Kendall immediately and melodically chimed in and finished the song by Hillsong.  A few days later, she sent me a video of her singing the song and playing the chords.  Most of our close family knows that Kendall is the jack of all trades.  She can try something once and be instantly great at it. She can learn anything.  For whatever reason, she took that song and turned around and blessed me with it. I don't know what God is doing, I hear the messages that He is sending. Through my pain, anger, sorrow and disappointment, I still hear Him.

Today I went to church, and I sang. Even though I wasn't fully there, I knew what I was singing was true. I knew that the name of Jesus, my Jesus, Patrick's Jesus, could not be rivaled.

*I do not own rights to this beautiful music*

Counseling, Coping & Community: 6 Month Update

When people ask how we are doing, there is still no answer for that. Hopefully, the blog posts give a good indication of how we can be all over the place and in the same exact place on any given day. This makes no sense to us, but God is providing grace, love, support, comfort and continually meeting our tangible needs.  For that, we are grateful. Most people tell us to "expect a drop off in support as people will go on about their lives." But I cannot tell you how blessed I am to say that in our case, this isn't true. The support has been unending. 

In addition to our family and our close friends, here is a snapshot of what we have in place to help us along this uncharted and undesirable path.

Extracurricular Activities: (weekly) We are currently transitioning for the summer, but I have enrolled the kids in several creative and athletic outlets to get out their "big energy" and honestly give them something to look forward to.   Christian, Elijah, Avielle and Joy are enjoying and excelling in karate.  Benjamin is in gymnastics. We take Amira to open gymnastics, and she will be doing soccer in the fall.  Kendall starts art class next week and will try volleyball camp this summer.  Christian is still acting, and all of the kids will be participating in Vacation Bible School either as volunteers or participants.  Avielle and Elijah are set for Kid's worship camp where they will learn to sing, write and run the tech for worship service.  Boys are also trying their hand at basketball this summer at the Y.  Since all the kids love the water, swim lessons will be a high priority again this summer. 

Counseling: (Weekly)We currently have two different counseling setups. One is a Christian Counseling Group we've been seeing since the week of the Memorial Service.  I try to get in biweekly myself, and depending on the children and their needs, I will cycle them through on the other appointments.  The oldest four usually rotate in, depending on either their choice or observed behaviors/grief patterns during the week.  They have been very understanding and accommodating and we are grateful that it's close to our home.  In addition, the younger kids see a counselor who specializes in play/art therapy for younger children. I got to interview her via phone a few months back and was instantly impressed with her knowledge and her warmth. Avielle saw her for the first-time last week and told me that her time was helpful. As a backup, I also have a telehealth counseling service should the need arise.

Kid's Grief Group: (Bi-monthly) At the end of May was the last grief group for the kids until August. It was bittersweet as everyone seemed sad to say goodbye, the staff and counselors have been a godsend.  It was a short stint for us, so I think that even my kiddos were struggling as another one of their activities was coming to an end. Grief doesn't seem to take a moment off, so trying to navigate this through these months will be interesting. I'm thankful that they have another family event scheduled for July. It will be great to see everyone again.  Since we homeschool year-round, the "summer off" rhythm that many others seem to follow isn't familiar to us. I'll be back to update on what we find to fill this space, soon.

Church Community: I'm proud to say that we have four churches whose communities are united in serving and undergirding our family during this time.  This is what we call "the Body of Christ, being the Body of Christ", and I'm so honored and grateful for the covering. Some members provide biblical teaching and fellowship for our children. Others provide a safe space for when I am up to attending worship service. They also provide grief education and support for us and our support system.  Some brothers and sisters rotate weekly deliveries of family meals and helps with handyman work and cleaning. Another beautiful group of people check in with us on a daily basis, come by for quick hugs and drop small "thinking of you" gifts.  A few brothers and sisters open their homes as a haven for some solo time for my children saying, "whatever you need, whenever they need a moment-bring them here."  We also have at least five pastor-counselor-friends who check in on us several times a week providing counseling, prayer, and a listening ear.

Prayer Warriors: These are the friends of friends...of friends. The immediate family, non-immediate family. The coworkers of Aunties, the bible study group\members, the mother -in-laws of church members, Patrick's former colleagues, old classmates, online friends, former professors, ministers, pastors, children, music students, cashiers, delivery drivers, etc.  For all of the texts, calls, emails, letters, cards, etc. I can't even...I could never thank you all for continuing to petition the Father on our behalf.   

Wake Up.Open Blinds.Brew Coffee-6 Month Update

This won't be cohesive, but it's where I am. I want to get that part out of the way.  Many people ask, "How are you?", and still there is no way to answer that question. So here are a few of my pieces:

It's too quiet. Too quiet. The reverberating voice and hearty laugh is missing and that makes me angry. It makes no sense.

It's too quiet. The bass line is missing. 

Even when it's not quiet, and it's busy...there is the anticipation of the quiet. The weighing in of our person, his opinion and viewpoint - all missing. 

Even with seven kids. Even with their laughter, excitement, silliness and frequent reminiscence; it's too quiet.

I can't remember the actual day, but for the first time ever last month, I woke up and I wasn't "in the hospital" in my head. For the past few months, every single morning I'd be back at the hospital in my mind. I remember trying to make sense of it all; trying to create an alternate ending. Just so many thoughts. So, in order, to push through, I would:

 1)Wake up 

2)Open the Blinds 

3) Brew Coffee.  

If I could just complete those three tasks, in that order, I'd be fairly stable.  I had to follow that cadence in order to float or glide throughout the day and swing from busy thing to busy thing. But, always anticipating the meltdowns, or eight of them. The meltdowns haven't been many, and for that I thank God. I'm grateful to Him for holding us together and giving us bright spots and innumerable beautiful stories. The anticipation of the meltdowns, though, has been the worst.  Or better yet, getting through the day, getting through prayer and right at the very end.... full fallout.  I also realize that this journey is fresh and most days we just look at each other in disbelief.  I usually hate when people say this but, it could be worse. As much as Pat means to us, as tight as our family is- the fact that we are clothed naturally and spiritually and walking upright most days is miraculous and a testament to all of the prayers going up on our behalf.

Saturday June 4, 2022 was six months to the day that we rushed Patrick to the ER. I knew it would be a fight when I woke up,  but especially since Avielle and Christian decided that they wanted to participate in Prayer and Produce for the first time since our loss.  For those newer to the story, Patrick and the oldest four were shopping for food for our outreach ( Prayer and Produce) when he felt the pain in his chest and we took him to the ER. So "triggery" doesn't even explain it, but I was so proud of their bravery. I'll have to process and blog about that experience in a separate post.  

Lately, I've been waking up walking through many chapters of our story. Good memories.  Yet, still bewildered to be in this spot.  All I wanted was to "do life" with my person. That's it. At times, it was messy, hard, and crazy, but it was our life. It was our love. 

God usually shows me a lot. I've learned in the recent past that discernment is one of my spiritual gifts, but how did I not see this coming? This floored me and nothing could have prepared me for it. If Patrick himself would have told me this was coming, I wouldn't have believed him. Did I miss something, or many things?  I'm a sensible person, and nothing about this makes sense.  In one of the updates prior to the blog, I remember writing "God you are The Creator, nothing about this was creative." The most unnecessary plot twist. 

One of my earlier prayer requests to a pastor friend was, "Ask the Lord to show me where to fix my eyes, because I'm flailing right now." 

Every decision, every parenting decision is tough.  The teamwork was unrivaled.  We needed the balance. I'm out here doing my best.  

I've had some days where the love and encouragement from our support system started as early as 6am. It seems like on those days God is "padding" me.  So, if you're reading this and you have sent me a message saying "you were on my heart" or "praying for you today" or "you're an incredible person"-thank you for letting the Lord use you. It helped me to make it through one of the kid's unexpected crashes, or maybe my own.  I read every single message/email and appreciate every single phone call.

I often share with the kids where I am. They comfort me when I cry, Amira sings over me. They encourage me, too. I'm so grateful for that.  I can honestly say I don't live for my kids; I do life with my kids.  Patrick and I always made sure that they understood that. Mom and Dad are not perfect, indestructible, all-knowing beings. Thus, we learn, grow and live together. 

I was strong before this. I didn't need this.  How was THIS the move? Most days I wake up thinking "How can I possibly do this today? Again?"

The kids wanted to watch a movie and so I told them "before you watch the movie, let's write encouraging notes to send to a family in Georgia who also lost their Dad." And without a fuss, the kids sat quietly and made the cards with heartfelt messages and stickers. That's all I know how to do. I am walking in who God has made me: We all are. Which gives me a little comfort- knowing that I'm walking with Him and can still hear Him.

Amira keeps singing "He is for you; He is for you." But I don't always feel like God is "for me".  I know enough bible to know better, but I'm being brutally honest here. 

This still feels like the cruelest of pranks. The past tense-es are excruciating.  People say "time heals", but only Jesus...only the All Mighty God can heal this. 

Pouring Passionately : Father & Sons

I have often thought about the conversations that Patrick and I had about the children, so many of them. The ones that have particularly stood out to me as of late, are the ones where he would say to me "Sometimes, you're not going to understand what or why when I'm dealing with our sons and that's okay. Some of these are men to men things."  Most of the time, I bowed out.  Although sometimes I wanted to interject, I knew his heart and that I didn't know what it was like to be a father, or a son."

I took notice very early on after our loss at how mature our boys were. They stepped up, big time. I realized that although I was devastated, and still am, that they don't have Patrick here for guidance, he truly did an excellent job of pouring into them and training them to be young men of God.  There are lingering lessons that he taught and ways that he modeled for them that were beyond their years. He laid a rich foundation. When I see them walking out their faith and displaying godly and chivalrous virtues, it makes this seem somewhat bearable. I also recognize the gift of God in giving us such full, intense, lively years of intentional parenting together.  

Patrick was always down for an adventure. I'd research something, plan it and say, "alright Babe, today you guys are doing xyz." He never complained, he just grabbed the kids and set off while I stood by capturing all of the moments in pictures.  I can't remember what research led me to this devotional, "Called to Greatness" but when I did Patrick fell in love with it.  Night after night, he sat down with the boys and had time of devotion.  He taught them about faith, fellowship and family.  It was such a good time of study and enlightenment; they went through it twice and even gifted it to a few other families.  It's things like this that I hold dear, the images of my husband "breaking bread" as he called it with his sons. Making this load for me, today, a little lighter. Even in his absence, he's still a giver.