Just Friends?: Storytime

This week, the kids seemed to enjoy the stories I've shared about me and Pat's dating days. On what has turned out to be a harder Saturday than I was anticipating, I figured I'd blog and share a beautiful story with the prayer warriors.

Back in college, early 2000's, Patrick made his intentions very clear.  He would tell me; "None of these guys really want to be just friends with you.  They are just waiting for the right opportunity. So, I'm making it clear out the gate, God told me you were going to be my wife!"  Being scrawny and friend-zoned all of my teen years, I had made it up in my mind that Keisha was for Keisha. I couldn't waste my time counting on anyone to be there for me. I had no space for disappointment or a broken heart. (I later attributed much of this to my own daddy issues, but I'll come back to that.) My plan was to work hard, study hard, graduate, and boss up.  I was still able to do all of those things, and more in spite of the fact that love, marriage, and a family were not really on my radar.  But Patrick was annoyingly persistent and very bold. He would show up to most social events to keep an eye on these guys who were claiming to be just friends.  My roommates would walk past and snicker, "the preacher is here for you." 

One particular day, a friend called and wanted to grab a bite to eat. Once we got to the restaurant and he said he was paying, I knew something was up.  He started to tell me about his future plans and apparently wanted to officially inform me that after some thought, he realized that he would like to pursue a dating relationship with me. I was caught off guard, but it proved Patrick right. As I remember my response to this friend, I realize that it would foreshadow the next two decades of my life. I replied, "Oh, I'm sorry. But this, this with Patrick... This is it."  

And that was it. Patrick was it. I told him many times, "It was either you or no one."

Patrick & I at my Aunt Valerie's, Christmas 2004 *Engaged* 

"I thought it would be getting better": Honest & Beautiful Weekend Moments

I talked with a friend yesterday and she confessed, " I thought it would be getting better but it seems to be getting worse." She's a great friend, and very perceptive.  Her kids are also still struggling with this loss, like many of us. They even pray for my littles at night, specifically. I'm so grateful for our village, even the tiniest prayer warriors. I know everyone's grief journey is different but I'm telling you this...it's NOT getting better. It is indeed getting worse. As we are slowly realizing that maybe this is not dream, or a cruel prank. We're not trapped inside some warped video game, this is real. Today, as we headed out for our new tradition "Sundae Sundays", Kendall said to me, "It's the fact that I won't be able to see him in this world, in this life, on this side that really makes me sad." Even typing that, I'm squinting in confusion. How is this so? Like how? 

Max opened up today and he and I have also had several poignant conversations this weekend. One of my favorites was when he told a specific story (I'll let him share) about how his dad was very efficient at maximizing opportunities.  humble his Dad was. "He never said "I'm the greatest Dad in the world" he just was."  I'm extremely grateful for the legacy of humility that Patrick left for us and for the world.  Max was the first to declare that his future kids would refer to Patrick as GrandPat. So, when he talks about the stories he'll tell them, he uses that moniker.  In a time where my son is coming of age, he needs his Dad. I watched him walk onto a playground court and join in on a pick-up basketball game.  He's growing up, but Pat's not here.   

I recalled how Patrick would pray over me every morning. I'd feel his heavy hand land on my shoulder, or my head, as he would silently pray and then I'd hear "Amen." Off to work he would go, or upstairs to pray if he was working from home.  He was so very consistent. We all remember him praying over us. We've also been reflecting this weekend about how he was the "calm". Kendall has some "hypochondriac tendencies", and she was telling me the story of how calmly Patrick would assure her. "He made me feel safe." Even sweet little Amira still asks for her Dad. She is still nursing, and the only child to nurse past the age of 16 months.  Mostly because I've only ever successfully weaned the children with Pat's help. 

Somehow, he managed to be an excellent human being, all while pointing us to the Source.  And even that, makes this harder to grasp.  His humility, kindness, and infectious personality has touched us all. Yet he never made it about him; always about Him. So, we're wrestling this weekend. There have been extreme highs and lows.  There are no platitudes, no scriptures, no number of casseroles that can help.  This just sucks. 

September 18, 2022

I'm Finna Hate Fall

I'm finna hate fall.  I just know it.  When I first started to see the harvest displays at the grocery stores, the pumpkins and the cinnamon brooms, I tried to ignore them. I felt something, but I was already feeling too much of everything else, so I had no space. I had to block it out.  But last fall, was our last fall. I thought it would be a fresh start. Clearly, I was wrong.  I'm rarely wrong about things like this. I hate being wrong; but I can acknowledge when I am. 

We had just moved back to Brandon after about seven years of living in the flourishing south Riverview area. We'd experienced everything from spotty Wi-Fi, to overcrowded roads, and baby budding trees that barely provided shade to the caterpillars.  But in our new, more mature neighborhood, it finally felt like fall. Big, shady trees lined our street, making it a much cooler season than we had experienced in a while. School started up, we were getting into a routine, Patrick's commute was shorter-all things were looking up-ish. We were slowly adjusting and making our home into a home and adding new memories in the process.

I was always the fun coordinator.  I think I'm a pretty boring person in day-to-day life, but I can definitely organize some fun! One of my favorite things to do, was to find new experiences and adventures for Patrick and the kids. Secretly, I would love sending him off with them so that I could have a quiet moment alone in the house-so it was a win/win. Right on the corner was a church with a huge pumpkin patch.  I had arranged for Patrick and the kids to go over, take some awesome pics, and pick a pumpkin.  They came back with 9 pumpkins; one for reach kid and one for him to decorate and take to his job for a carving contest. They had a messy blast but lost the contest. 

Fall is here again, too quickly. It's reminding me that in a few short months, it will have been a full year since we lost my Husbae. I still cannot believe I typed that. And even before that, I get to celebrate Benji's, Pat's and Max's birthdays all within a few short months.  Fall is here again, reminding me that we will not have a fresh start.  I was wrong. 

One thing that many of the books and blogs I've read haven't shed enough light on, is the fact that this type of loss shakes the very foundation of every facet of your life.  No matter how much faith you have, no matter how long you've been a believer, no matter how many encounters with the Holy Spirit you've had-this is physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually disorienting. 

 "Where am I? What's going on? Whose life is this? Where is Pat?"

Therapy: 9 Month Update

Today it's been nine months since our loss.  When I woke up it was dreary outside, and I already knew what I was up against. But the boys had back-to-back basketball games, so I knew that we had to get up and out.  I was fussing, the house was a mess, but we had to go.  We got to the Y and met a sister who was taking the girls on a breakfast date, and of course my sister showed up with smiles & snacks to cheer on her nephews. After the game, we had small meltdown but got in the car to head home to clean and prepare to do some kind of activity to look forward to. That's been a staple and truly a lifeline for us. However, it started storming. So here I am, blogging with a sleeping baby girl in my arms. 

Someone asked me how things were going with counseling and as I've said before, "No one has come out of an office telling us that this was all a dream, and we can wake up now. So, I guess it's going just okay." The truth is, in one twenty-four-hour period, my kids had kid's grief support group, a one-on-one therapy session, karate, and still came home had a full-blown meltdown; which caused a domino effect.  I grabbed the kids, put them in the car and drove to the nearest safe-house. Our friends asked no questions, took the kids in, shared their grandparents, gave hugs, baked cookies, and I picked them back up and we went home for prayer and bed. Sometimes, that's how our day looks.  Here is an overall glimpse at the grief supports we have in place.

Counseling

At the moment, all of us are receiving counseling on a weekly or biweekly basis with the exception of Christian and Kendall.  Elijah sees a new male therapist who has had some similar experiences and is doing well.  My sister and I are with the same group of Christian therapists we've seen since December, specifically Catrina.  I have even had the opportunity to bring in some friends into a session as we all cried and attempted to process this craziness. Avielle, Joy, Benjamin and Amira enjoy their time in play/art therapy with Katherine. She is very in tuned with our family, our story, and has been a great support to us all.  The office is so welcoming and comfortable.  The older kids who are waiting are able to do schoolwork in the lobby, and her office is spacious and  has a hammock that all of the kids love.   

Grief Group

Thankfully, Suncoast Kids started back up and we missed the leaders and some of our friends from the last session. Sadly, seeing all of those new faces who had recently gone through similar losses sent a few of us home with aching hearts.  No one wants to be here, in this space.  Max said it best, "I hated to see them because I knew that they didn't know that it was getting ready to hurt a lot worse. " But each of us agreed, that we would make it a point to be someone for the new families to lean on. 

ExtraCurriculars

The kids are still involved in karate, basketball, sports discovery, boxing fitness, and piano.  Recently we joined a homeschool co-op where the kids take three subjects with their peers and that's been an excellent source of support, fellowship, and accountability for all of us. 

Children/Youth Ministry

One of the things that I'm most grateful for, is the Children/Youth Programming at our local church.  When this happened to us, I would have not been surprised if the kids wanted to take a step back from faith related activities. But they did not; they leaned in.  They love seeing friends, hearing the stories, studying the bible and playing games.  Although, sometimes they have come home with more questions or stories about how they were trigged by Jesus healing someone in the bible and not their dad. I get it.  But I'm glad that they keep talking and keep leaning on God. He's the only one who can fix this. 

One-on-Ones

One of my favorites has been One-on-ones. I got a chance to get with my sister and just enjoy coffee at the local cafe.  Just seeing her face, and giving her hugs is so very helpful for us both.  In addition to that, she and my brother-in-law have taken some of the kids off just for solo time. It's something that I wish I could do more, but it's complicated. I've had friends come to take the kiddos for lunch, shopping, fishing, breakfast, golf, etc.  Having my family, and our faith family come through to treat our kids to some special solo time has been one of the most effective helps during this season. 

Friend Therapy

I zoomed a friend and cried. That was the whole call.

My kids walked into their friends' houses and got hugs from them, their parents, and even grandparents. I picked them up with smiles on their faces. Elijah sent me an email while he was there saying "I'm sorry I was acting out." I replied, "I'm sorry that you even have to go through this." 

Friends send me scripture and prayers, and check-in throughout the day to make sure we don't feel alone. 

One of the most effective types of therapy has been "Friend therapy." Seeing our friends, our people, who love us and loved Patrick well-is the most beneficial of all things.  

Trips, Trees, and Triggers

 I think growing up Baptist has me inclined to use alliteration every time I get an opportunity to write. Patrick and I would always joke about this because he did the same! But in this blog post, I will share some insight into our lives in each of these three categories: Trips, Trees & Triggers

Trips

I may be overshooting it, but it seems like Patrick, and I spent 70% of our time together in the car. Whether we were carpooling as we did for many years taking him to back and forth to work or hitting the road for a family trip-some of our best memories and conversations were in the car.  One of the most infamous was our first trip as "boyfriend and girlfriend" to Atlanta.  His oldest brother and his family invited me to their home for the holiday while we were in college, and I was happy to meet the big bro whom I had heard so many stories about and Patrick's niece and nephews whom he bragged about all the time.  He later told me that on the drive to Atlanta, he knew that I was the one because he didn't have to turn on the radio once, we talked the entire ride. 

In this season of loss, we have taken two trips. The first one was for Father's Day and even booking it, I was consumed with anxiety. One thing that many people don't tell you about this type of trauma, is that it affects your ability to commit...to press "go" on anything. When we got there, I knew he would have been proud at the place I chose. The fact that it was nice, safe, clean and close to the beach worked out well. But Patrick, was Patrick. So, although we had a good time, the gaping hole seemed to swallow us up.  We spent many quiet moments enjoying all of the things that we had enjoyed together when our family was whole. On the second trip, also about an hour away as I cannot do long road trips, things went well also but the meltdown was on the horizon. We were celebrating the first boy birthday of the year, and I found myself thinking, "Why are we even here? Where is Patrick? What are people thinking when they see me with these million kids, solo?" As the kids enjoyed the water park, I sobbed nearby. I just couldn't believe that my other half, the helicopter dad wasn't with us. 

One of the first things that I thought while driving after our loss was, "How is it that none of these roads, none of these streets will lead me to Patrick?"

Trees

Patrick loved, LOVED mature trees. There would never be a time when we would drive by large, beautiful trees without commenting, "Gosh look at these trees. I just love 'em." I was never really into trees growing up, but I learned to have an appreciation for them when he started to point out their beauty.  A few years ago, I remember going back to our place, the place where we first met: Tallahassee.  What I thought was a familiar corner, no longer seemed recognizable.  I had to check the street signs to confirm that yes, it was Tennessee and White Drive. It was the "we're almost home" intersection. But something about it looked different. What I noticed was that, when we were there over 15 years ago, the trees were tiny little struggly shrubs. On our trip back, more than a decade later, the trees had overtaken the corner. They had come into their own.  For years I've tried to unpack the meaning of that, but even still I cannot.  

One of the first things that I thought after our loss as I pulled up to our home was, "How are these trees still living and moving, and Patrick is not?"

Triggers

In the last eight months, the kids and I have experienced more sickness that we had in the previous decade as a whole! It has been unrelenting, and also very triggering.  It started with Max having to have oral surgery. Up until this, Patrick had been the only person in our family to have to be put under. Then a little later, Elijah and I ended up in urgent care with sinus infections.  However, his heart rate and oxygenation levels were concerning so they repeatedly asked if he had asthma (does not) and sent him home with an albuterol pump. So I spent 12 hours barely sleeping while monitoring his heart rate and oxygenation levels...the same two numbers that I was complete fixated on during Patrick's time in the ICU before his passing.  

Then most recently, as we were in the nursery at church and I noticed Amira seeming to struggle to catch her breath. She had a runny nose a few days before, but nothing major. After battling with myself for about an hour, I reached out to an excellent friend and asked her to help with a breathing treatment. I had called my pediatrician and had enough experience to know that this was the normal go to with the rest of her symptoms. After we gave her the treatment, it didn't improve so nervously I took her to Urgent Care.  The doctor came in, tested her for everything with no positive results. But she was definitely wheezing.  I watched as my two-year-old, held it together until the medical staff left the room, then she said quietly, "Mommy, I want to go to the car." She cooperated with everything they asked her to do, she was even cordial and said, "thank you" and "bye." But even my baby knew that something was off. She didn't' feel good or safe in that space. She sensed something.  Thankfully we were sent home with treatment, and she improved overnight.

In each of these cases I thought, "What if they send me to the hospital? What if I missed something? What if I don't bring them home?" Those thoughts rattled me as I tried to decide whether I was being paranoid or potentially negligent.  I can say that looking back on it, I'm thankful for God's peace.  I handled it like a boss, although I felt like anything but. It was all too reminiscent, even making the call to my friend (who had come over to watch the kids every single day that Pat was in the ICU) to come over to watch them while Max was being put under. I paced and cried in the waiting room while he was having the short procedure done.  When they called me back and said, "we're just waiting on him to wake up", my heart dropped. I sat next to the little cot and waited for him to wake up. As soon as he came to, he motioned for his iPad. I gave it to him, and he typed "Thank you for taking care of me Mommy." 

When we pulled into the driveway following Max's procedure, I walked up to my friend and said, " I brought him home." Without either of us realizing it in that moment, I think we both knew what I was saying.