I Don't Feel Like A Widow Everyday....Four Years Later.

  I don't feel like a widow everyday. But everyday I feel out of place. I keep showing up for this life that looks absolutely nothing like I thought it would. Nothing.  Nowhere in my wildest nightmares or deepest fears, did I ever see myself living this life without my ride-or-die. It didn't fit the narrative.  Two people put together by God, finished college, got married, bought a house,  started a family in love, and encouraged others in Christ to then become forever fractured.   This sucks. Even four years later, I'm still utterly confused as to how this was next.  

Today was heavy. December is looming over our heads. Something in my heart tells me that if December tarries, then it won't be really four years. Because how can it be four years ago that I got the worst, most unexpected news of my life? We were sitting in that waiting room, praying. Visiting every day and night, just waiting for God to do his "big one" for the one who loved Him most.  We all called Patrick, "God's favorite." Knowing him for over 20 years, I can firsthand tell you that his only desire was to make God proud. I had never seen something so pure, up close, in my life. So for him to be gone feels mean, and unsettling. And mainly unnecessary.

As I drove through parts of our old town today, I had a flashback of the visceral pain during those first weeks and months after we lost Patrick.  I remembered how I felt like my actual heart was bleeding. I was gasping for air and just trying to get through each day so that I could get back to my real life. 'Cause this wasn't it.  So much guttural  screaming and weeping mixed with sheer disbelief filled that space in time. Although I don't feel that type of pain anymore, I can't say that this year four pain is less. It's different.  My nerve endings are coming back.  The shock is finally wearing off, and I feel lost in this life that feels like it's betraying me. 

In the first year I screamed often at God, "What am I supposed to do with this? Literally, WHAT? All of the ministry I've lived, all of the theology I've learned and taught, there was no scripture for how "this" was good, or God's plan.  How is it not God's plan to raise seven little disciples with two parents who loved and lived for Christ? That ain't in no chapter, of any book.  And as we approach the fourth anniversary of Patrick's death I'm still stunned.  A few months after losing Pat my oldest son cried out during prayer, "Lord I know you don't make mistakes but this just might be your first one." 

As we are nearing the days inching closer to the dreaded December 10th, I've been overwhelmed and honestly in a panic.  I don't want it to be four years. I don't want to be heartbroken until I die. I don't want to be barely making it at the end of every single week. Exhausted, exasperated , fragile and fully consumed by a life that I didn't want, yet still having to fight the good fight. My God. 

Earlier this week, I did something that took three years to do...I went back to our beach. The first time I tried, for his birthday in 2022 it didn't go well. This time my body was aching for a getaway, and I had the notion to do something brave. So thanks to a wonderful family friend, we booked a quick getaway. I watched the sunset and I couldn't help but think "I don't feel like a Widow today." But I looked to my right, at the resort where we spent so much wonderful family time over the years and swore I could hear Patrick's laughter. He should be here. He should be on the sand with his babies.  He should be watching the sunset with his bride.  And although every day I don't feel like a widow, every hour my heart misses him and longs for what should have been.

-Keisha 

The Shock Has Worn Off: Patrick Keeps NOT Coming Back

 I'm broken as I type this.  All of the "it will get better with time" comments were simply not true. With time, my five year old realizes that she won't be a baby ever again.  As a baby, she saw her Dad every day and was with him every night. But she's growing up, and she's noticing that life moves forward, and keeps moving even without her Daddy. We cannot access Patrick. There are no more hugs, ever. There are no more laughs, no new photos. I'm completely devastated.  Time only has created a chasm that no one can close. A gaping hole in our lives, that is inescapable. And we build, and grow, and build, and grow and still he is not here to celebrate with us.  He won't be able to laugh at Christian's jokes.  He won't be able to measure Elijah's height against his.  He won't be able to watch them lead worship, or perform in their first play.  He won't be able to walk into Amira's classroom to pick her up.  He won't be able to compete in the "Dads Game" with Benjamin.  He won't be able to take Joy & Avielle on any more Daddy-daughter Dates.  He won't be able to walk his oldest daughter Kendall across the stage at graduation.  This is grief. This is real. It's not a one time event. Patrick's absence fills every crevice.  And as their mom, solo, I have to prepare for the moments. The moments when it "hits them", over and over again. 

Learn more about the work that's keeping us going,Legacy Work :Foundation

Barbershops & Breakdowns

 As we sat here preparing for Hurricane Milton, I received an automated message from a Barber in the area. Early on, I remember trying to find a new barber for the boys. How would I be able to take them back to the man who had cut Patrick's hair? It was right across the street from the hospital that issued me the most devastating blow of my life.  So, I had to find a new one. 

My first interaction with a barber was a few days after losing Patrick. I couldn't and hadn't' absorbed what was happening, but I knew my kids needed to look good. I remembered a company that offered mobile cuts, and I called him before the funeral, and he pulled right up in front of my house.  He had a full shop inside of a gutted FedEx truck. It was quite impressive. But after all the hoopla, after all the families had gone home...I faced the daunting task of taking the boys to a new barber. It was horrible.

What I didn't know, was that the new barber was in the mall. The mall is probably one of the top 5 most triggery places in this city. I HATE the mall.  Incredibly TOO many memories there; it was our hangout spot as a whole family. We often went as Patrick loved shopping for the kids, getting pretzels and haircuts. Back to the new barber. He was slow, he didn't know my kids, and I thought I would die.  But Christian had been booked to shoot a spot for ABC Mouse, and I could no longer put it off. Although I made two appointments for both boys, I had to leave after it took over an hour for one cut.  The rest of that day was a blur. 

After that experience, I knew I had a decision to make. Christian had another shoot and needed his hair cut badly. I asked if he was okay going back to Daddy's barber, and he said yes. We walked in, and Mr. Mike looked like he wanted to cry, but I watched him excitedly greet my son. To this day, I know he has no idea how much that meant to me.  He gently handled my husband. Patrick always came home so pumped after being at the barber. He loved Mike. He loved the conversations, and his heart for his family. Patrick was always a champion of people. As our good friend and Pastor Melody always says, "Patrick left us better than he found us."

So now, the boys go solo or my Brother -in-law takes them for me. It's the place where Benji got his first big boy haircut.  I can imagine how Mike must feel, watching them sit in his chair, month after month, year after year, growing into young men without Patrick.  This loss is so unfair. It's not just one person. It's not just one experience. It's a string of events and moments that he won't be here for. And this makes NO sense. It never will.

Our Finale Turned Four: The End of an Era

Benjamin started it off. Even at five years old, his heart is tender for his siblings and their grief.  He woke up yesterday morning, and he began to cry. "I don't want the baby to grow up, Mommy." It was so sweet, but also very sad.  That's how we all feel. This is the last Wheeler Baby. The Finale. Up until today, I had never had a four year old without another toddler in tow.  This is an end of an era, and I had no idea it was coming.  Many people were taken aback when they learned how many children we were parenting, but they soon fell in love with them all and understood the gift. 

These kids are so easy to love.  It's  painful to know that there is an ache that I cannot soothe for them. They miss and need their Dad.  Watching them grow, mature and develop without Patrick here feels...I can't quite explain it. What was meant to be the gift of a full quiver, now feels like a giant, heavy cross to bear. How can I keep them healed, whole, and happy by myself? This feels more like a punishment than  a privilege. 

I would cry a billion tears for Patrick, and that seems like it would be easier than trying to solo parent in his shadow.  I love these children. He loved these children. They are indeed the very best of Patrick and I.  But today a chapter ended, and I have no idea what the next one holds. Our last baby. The last of me and Patrick has turned four.  The finale is four. 

The Only Reason to Cry

 I’ve had to hold myself together a lot when these children have uttered heartbreaking realities of their loss. Recently, this one from my oldest really took me aback. She was casually explaining an experience  that she'd had that night in worship, In telling me  the story, she started to talk about how powerful the song was, and how the worship leader began to cry during the song. And very nonchalantly, she quipped, "I remember when crying in worship was the only time I had to cry. It felt like a dagger. She’s a child. One of the best kids that I know. Patrick and I cultivated an environment of worship in our home and it showed in our children . Even in lament,  they worship and cry out for help. A worship leader was crying from an emotional evoked by powerful song.  But my daughter making the link between that type of reverent cry, and the cry of incomprehensible heartache really almost broke me. For those people who can’t help but to offer platitudess when we have lost the thirty-year old rock of our family, I ask that you remember this moment. Remember that this child hasn’t lived long enough to have done anything to deserve this pain. None of us have. If you want to support a grieving family, then please sit with them in their lament.

Trash Bags

 The whirlwind surrounding  the week that we lost Patrick continues to pop up in my head in fragments.  Like the worst highlight reel; without warning. But when I think back on it, I was like a zombie-robot. Just going. Operating on adrenaline and disbelief. I remember my family scurrying around trying to stock me up with things, but the look of shock and sadness in their eyes I can never forget.   At one point, as I was preparing the kids for an activity, I looked over and my best friend was doubled over.  She had been trying so  hard to be strong for me, but I think it hit her. I didn't even shed a tear, I just asked "you alright?" and kept moving.  I was numb and in manager mode.  

After everyone had left to go home and return to their normal lives, I was grateful to be stocked with all of the things.  About six months later, I pulled out the last of the trash bags and it hit me. I was out of trash bags. I had no more cushion. I had to go back to getting things on my own. Patrick was really not here.  And although one would think that my overflowing tears would be in sadness in response to that devastating realization, the tears were those of gratitude.

Someone loved me enough, to make sure I didn't run out of trash bags. TRASH bags. It wasn't anything fancy or super expensive, it was just the thought that someone looked ahead and knew I may not be in a headspace to remember to buy them.  Someone wanted to make this awfully hard life a little  easier for me. I felt loved and seen during the worst time in my life.  I will never forget that.

It's been almost two years....

    It’s been almost two years, and Patrick still has not come home. I type that at the risk of sounding crazy, but to be honest I’m not crazy. This situation is crazy. Having 14 kids' birthdays without Patrick is crazy. Solo parenting seven grieving children all while I am trying to navigate what just happened to my life… That’s crazy. Still being able to provide emotional support, do outreach, and create a foundation for the bereaved while grieving...that's crazy.

    In the first few weeks of losing Patrick, someone who was probably well-meaning yet ill-informed, said to me, "God is going to use this." That infuriated me on 100 different levels! As someone who has been used the majority of my life by God, this didn't seem like the logical next move. Over years ago, God burst into my "independent woman" plans, united me with Patrick, and allowed us to create a small army of disciples.  I think I can safely say that the death of Patrick wasn't necessary in order for God to use us. We were being used just fine and frequently. The very same God that created something from dust, with His very words... The God that can grow an entire human in the womb of a mother for nine months... That kind of creative God did not have to take my husband and these kids' father in order for us to be used. But I digress. 

    During this time, I have seen exactly how much it takes to keep it moving. I watch my children continuously make the choice to wake up each morning and stare the day in the face. I look on as they take one step toward the light; onne step toward peace and joy, in the midst of extreme confusion.  I have seen their talents and personalities develop. I have seen a resilience in them that I didn’t think was possible. I have seen the love and guidance of their earthly father show up in them in a myriad of ways. Yet I’ve also heard screams from their little bodies that I could’ve gone my whole life without hearing. I’ve seen them be disappointed at people who truly should’ve showed up for us. I have seen the toiling of their little minds as they process never seeing Daddy again. I’ve seen them break into a full-blown panic at the slightest scare. This kind of out- of- order loss makes everything that you are sure of feel like quicksand.  Amazingly, I’ve seen my children be kept by God in a way that can only be the result of His sovereignty. I’ve heard joy in their hearts as they sing songs of praise. I’ve heard the pain in their lyrics as they screamed the words to songs that no longer seem like they fit life as we know it.  I’ve witnessed true joy as they experience a new adventure.  

    In the past two years, we've learned exactly what it feels like to be "in the margins" even more than we did before. And the lack of support and compassion for grieving families has been one of the saddest realities on this road. Wearily, we press on and continue to be who God has made us. If you are new to our blog, we thank you for taking the time to read this. We really want to shed light on how absolutely awful the moment-to-moment grief impacts us. It’s been two years, but it didn’t get better. Our village has been absolutely everything!  It takes so many mental and physical resources to keep it moving. So much compassion and flexibility are required to continue to raise these children in the light of the Lord: To keep them pressing on in purpose.  So, if you have been one of the people that we knew would be there for us, we thank you and appreciate you for doubling down and showing your love for Patrick by loving his family.  But, if you happen to be one of those that walked away in our darkest time, I respectfully ask that you keep walking. There were a bunch of little losses that follow Patrick’s passing, and although they were not as substantial, it still stung. We still noticed. Alas, God provides.

Fall Family Update

 The fall season has been hard and mean.  So, I’m thankful for your continued prayers and support.  It all started with our move from Brandon to Valrico in the beginning of August.  Although it’s only about a 12-minute drive between the houses, we were leaving the last place where our family was whole. I must be fully honest, moving as a solo mom of seven kids and making all those decisions myself, even picking up the U-Haul alone -almost broke me.  However, the move was necessary, and downsizing has been very helpful. Not waking up in the “house that I didn’t bring Patrick home to”, provided a little more breathing room in the suffocating grief. We are still close enough to all our extracurriculars, church, friends, family, therapists, etc.

In addition to adjusting to the new place, August was full of trigger days.  Our 18^th wedding anniversary, Elijah’s birthday being two of the hardest.  We took a while to adjust to our new schedule was a wild ride initially.  I feel like I spent much of my time in the car because we still have co-op homeschool classes, therapy, gymnastics/karate, church and outreach.  Joy and Benjamin started school for the first time at an awesome little Lutheran school and even though there are some beautiful additions, the demands of their schedule threw off our usual easygoing pace of life. We also had an opportunity to do something new, and we visited a local “smash room” where the oldest kids were outfitted in safety gear and allowed to smash and break things in a designated room.  The smaller kids and I got to crank up music and splatter and throw paint in the adjoining glow in the dark room. I don’t think that people understand how much pinned up anger and anguish we all have inside of us.  So to be given this safe outlet was very necessary, after a long sorrowful summer without their Dad.  Overall, we made it through the month with some joy amidst the pain and for that we are always grateful.

September was a whole ‘nother beast. My goodness! Our schedules were in full speed, we were still trying to get a rhythm. Thankfully we had a quick getaway for Elijah’s birthday, and I believe it gave us all a boost. Kendall had her first interview, where she was chosen to be an outreach volunteer for the Pregnancy Center in Plant City, as she is passionate about Pro-life causes.  She had no idea, that this was my passion as well and I worked at a Pregnancy crises center in college all the way up until my pregnancy with her.  The babies started gymnastics, and it was Amira’s very first extracurricular activity and after a few tears, she enjoyed her class. Separation anxiety has been huge this month for many of the kids. 

And here we are in October. I feel offended that the year is almost over, and Patrick is not here. Thankfully, we started off the month with a bang with a visit from his little sister Krislyn, her husband (who we hooked her up with), and their two kids. Seeing my niece and nephew have cousin time with my kids was beautiful. However, just still unbelievable that their proud Uncle Pat wasn’t with us.  We spent time on the beach, they came to our home, we took them to our favorite parks and out for ice cream.  It was a true blessing to love on them and be loved.

Then we were blessed with tickets to see Elevation Worship in the VIP seats at the Amalie Arena, the four oldest kids went with close friends of ours and they had a blast.  My sister and brother-in-law took the little ones to Chuck E. Cheese so I could have a couple hours to myself. On top of it all, we hit another milestone where Kendall went to her FIRST DANCE! The Homeschool Homecoming of 2023 was a great experience for her, and we had friends and family show up to see her off. She looked beautiful and handled herself like the beautiful young lady she’s growing into. She said she danced for hours.

 The next major move this month was the starting of our Peer Grief Support Group, Hand in Hand.  The kids helped me to create the structure, choose volunteers, pick curriculum and activities, and even went to tour the church with me.  We had our first official meeting on Tuesday 10/10, which also marked the 22^nd month since we lost Patrick. It was truly an honor to do something new and beautiful on that day.  We built something new on this side of our loss, and that means so much for our grief journey. Our families and volunteers showed up early and eager to walk this road together. 

The next big thing is a celebration we are having this Sunday 10/15 that will be a combination of celebrating four years in ministry and New Life Village’s “Fishers of Men” award, given in Patrick’s honor.  I intentionally planned this on the 15^th, because the 16^th is Benji’s 5^th birthday, and the 17^th would have been Patrick’s 41^st birthday. So, trying to do life-giving things that would honor God and Patrick is how we are getting through this.  We are so grateful for your prayers and ask that you will keep them coming, they make a difference.  I usually update our Instagram at least once a day, if you would follow us @servingwith7 that would be great.  Our Peer Support Group is on Instagram as well @hand_in_hand_brandon

Trigger Date Clusters *Special Prayer Requests*

 

As you can see, we’re in Trigger Cluster #2 of this year. No breaks. All days leading up to and between each holiday or special date seem agonizing 😭. So many babies, so many birthdays, so many tears. It’s not only that the kids long for their father to be here. But the siblings…they feel it. And we all feel helpless because no amount of fun can make up for the gaping hole. The genuine joy and excitement from their Dad on their birthdays is something that simply cannot be replicated. Dates are hard. The best thing that I have found, is to create opportunities to look forward to on the special days. Get out of the house! That takes the edge off. It’s possible that in the future these days will feel less dreadful…that’s what I hear. But idk. Only God knows.

June Family Updates

    Just like this time last year, June has been quite a full month.  It was the first month in our summer activities as homeschool co-op and Wednesday night church activities have ended, and of course to make up to keep ourselves busy in a positive way.

    This summer has started out pretty dreadful for the most of us.  I think that it being the second summer without Patrick feels extra mean.  The kids and I have had some pretty rough days, and that's okay.  We're learning to count the wins in each day, as opposed to counting the number of good days.  We still have not found our footing, and I don't think we ever will. Loving someone this much, being loved wholly by them, and then losing them isn't something that time will just allow us to "get over."

So here is what we've been up to:

    The older three kids volunteered for Vacation Bible School and totally rocked it!

Kendall & Christian were lead teachers in the classrooms.  Elijah had a blast for his first-time volunteering, and he had the super important job of leading the Kindergartners in daily Physical Education and games.  We were out in the community a few weeks after VBS concluded and a little ones yelled, "Hey, that's my teacher from church." Elijah beamed with pride. I was so proud of the kids for getting up serving, faithfully. It was great to see them all enjoy their time.

Avielle, Joy, and Benji made lots of friends and looked forward to each day of Vacation Bible School.  Amira and I had some time to ourselves; but she loves being around the siblings, so she started to miss them about the second day.  Thankfully, we have an awesome village, and I was able to clock-in friends to take her to have a good time while the older siblings were away. 

    All of the kids started in Educational Programs at the local Family Resource Center. They are covering topics such as mathematics, social -emotional intelligence, and Kendall even built a robot at the local community college for a weeklong robotics program! They have all also continued to #KeepItMoving by each playing a vital role in our Virtual Encouragement for Preservation Ministries.  Whether they sing, read a devotional, or give a testimony, they are always willing to walk in the way of the Lord, and in the legacy of their father.  

    As Father's Day approached, we all started to feel the effect of the weight of another important day without our guy.  I panicked as storms covered the entire state.  My initial plan to get away to a water park was foiled.  My backup plan to go to the beach was also nixed.  I knew that I did not want to wake up on Sunday here in this house without the Superdad.  So just like last year, I had to find a way to pad the pain.  

I got a bright idea and found a super cute farm with a tiny home for us to stay for the night. It was fairly close to the house.  Many people know that I'm not the best with animals but for these kids there is not much I won't do.  So being able to watch them wake up in nature, walk out to feed the chickens, goats and cows brough my heart so much peace.  It also gave me direction in our next move.

July will be our last month in this house; the house that we didn't bring Patrick home to.  That stings. It hurts so bad, yet it is true.  So, after visiting the farm, it solidified that we needed to downsize and find a place with more land as we spend 75% of our time running around and being outdoors anyway.  So currently, our prayer is that God will provide a place that fits our needs, and  favor for all to work out.  I will post updates on our instagram @servingwith7.

    On the last therapy Thursday of June, all seven of the kids had counseling appointments.  That was the first time every one of them had been seen on the same day and it was truly a task.  I'm grateful to have a village of competent supportive therapists to help us along this journey.  God has truly orchestrated and aligned our path with people who love Him and love us well.  

    There have been so many beautiful blessings from people all over this month, it has been so helpful.  Deliveries of dinner, toiletries, paper products, groceries, bottled water, fun passes, gift cards has really helped us to see that God sees us. God continues to send his people and from the bottom of my heart, I'm grateful.

This coming season of triggery dates, birthdays, anniversaries, etc. is going to be rough.  So, we're counting on your continued prayers to see us through. 

How we #KeepItMoving: Summertime Edition

    The only reason I have any recollection of last summer is because of all the photos that pop up on my phone to remind me. But I can't believe it's summer...again. I don't want it to be summer again. I need time to freeze and rewind to Winter 2021, so I can bring Pat back. Over the past few weeks, people have asked how I'm able to juggle being a solo mom of seven and have asked how they can help. One of the things that I usually tell people is that "we do all the things." 

    Since our loss, we rarely stay in the house. It's crucial that we have things to look forward to. But at the same time, I make sure to schedule blocks of time where we have nothing planned so that we can just process and exist without obligation. Both of these things have been extremely helpful on our grief journey. Because I know that if I stay in the house too long, I'll melt into a puddle of tears; unproductive and unable to move. But I also know that too much busyness overwhelms me and adds to my anxiety. So, it's a delicate balance. This is how I learned that it's costly to grieve with kids. 

    When Patrick was here, we spent hours doing life with each other. We would limit our commitments to make sure we had time to enjoy one another and grow in God as a family. Just being together doing everyday things was an adventure.  We were very cautious not to get our kids involved in too many activities, as we were already a big family in ministry: That alone, kept us on the go.  But now...we do all the sports & all the activities. This is why I'm grateful for all the blessings and help that comes our way. I'm grateful that in Florida we have access to many free and low-cost activities and ways to enjoy nature. Beautiful distractions, including lots of #friendtherapy help us get through the days. So, this is what our summer looks like.  It's imperative that we #keepitmoving.  If you know someone who has grieving kids, please share this list with them.

"How's Therapy Going?"

    I snapped this picture below of Benjamin today at our family therapy session.  The counseling office was so comfy that both my babies went to sleep right there on the sofa. My four and two-year-old had been up in the wee hours of the morning; they couldn't sleep.  They were triggered and afraid.  So that meant Momma didn't get much sleep either.  We used to share a room with Pat, and they can feel the gaping space. Although it’s been 17 months since we lost him, they still just want their daddy back. They want their world whole again. 

    About a week ago, I posted a video on Instagram that went viral. Before this, I thought that viral meant about 10k views. This particular video, that was uploaded from my ring camera, now has over 426,000 views! I started not to post it, because it was jarring to even me when I watched it back. It was one of my most unguarded, vulnerable moments of grief.  But it blessed many.  The messages of solidary and empathy poured in by he thousands.  But several people asked, "are you in counseling?"

 

    In May of 2020, Patrick and I were looking forward to walking across the stage of Luther Rice College & Seminary to receive our well-earned master's degrees in biblical counseling.  But the pandemic had other plans, so the ceremony was cancelled. But we still had a socially distanced celebration in our caps and gowns.  Yet another crazy milestone in the adventures of Pat N' Keisha.  Over the years, we had been honored to counsel dozens of beautiful, strong, faithful servants during our time together in ministry. In addition, one of the very last projects that Patrick was working on before he went into the hospital, was a mental health initiative at his job.  He not only helped get paid prayer/mediation time approved, but he oversaw the implementation of a mental wellness room on the work site.  

   As a lifelong proponent of mental health, I’ve seen a therapist on several occasions as an adult.  I realize that although I'm a strong person, part of my strength is knowing when to tag in help. Over the past decade, Patrick and I both have gained coping techniques and been provided a safe place to vent with the help of licensed mental health counselors.  But therapists are not magicians. Therapists are not God. The hard, ugly and awful doesn’t go away because you make an appointment, sit on a cozy couch, and pour out your heart.  A counselor cannot solve your problems, break your habits, right your wrongs, or in our case…being our person back.

    Has counseling been helpful? Yes, it helps take the edge off and I wouldn't want to walk this journey without having trusted, equipped counselors in our village.  Since the week after Patrick's Heaven Party, we've been under the care of Christian Therapists.  But some Things you can’t walk around; you can only walk through. What I share here, is what walking through looks like.

If April Showers Bring May Flowers...I'll Take 'Em

    April was an interesting month. It seemed to fly by, but it definitely made sure to leave a lasting impression.  There were some absolutely beautiful, proud moments; and for those we thank God.  However, there were some experiences that made our grief ultra heavy this past month. All in all, we made it.

    The end of April marked the close of our first ever Homeschool Co-Op School year.  We have homeschooled the kids since 2012 when Kendall was a Kindergartener.  Now she is a rising Sophomore in High School.  It was truly a joy to unite with other families with homeschoolers of all ages who loved Jesus and were excited to learn.  It was honestly also cool to see that parenting/homeschooling can have crazy unpredictable times as well.  The kids were elated to get up every Tuesday and go learn, laugh, and lunch with their peers. It's truly been one of the highlights of the past year.  

    The kids have truly enjoyed Wednesday Night worship at our local church.  Having a routine whenever possible is so crucial.  Of all the kids, I think Benji enjoys his time best.  He loves craft time, making friends, and learning new worship songs. Unfortunately, the church takes a break from May-August for their Wednesday programming, so I'll have to look into alternatives to keep the kids looking forward to some midweek fun.  I got a special call from the Kid's Pastor that truly uplifted me and encouraged me to "keep on bringin' 'em."

    Five of the kids got to start back karate at the homeschool resource center.  Benjamin had patiently waited until he was four years old to join the clan. They had a blast! Not only did they learn, grow, and have some excellent guidance from Mr. Jon, every single one of them ended the semester with a promotion! Elijah & Christian are now Blue Belts, Avielle & Joy are now green belts, and Benji is officially a yellow belt! I still say that involving them in karate has been one of my best decisions after our loss. 

    Our second Easter was dreadful, to be completely honest.  There was no way I could have saw it coming.  Something about the color-coordinated families, Jesus being raised from the dead, etc... just didn't feel like a celebration. I'm so thankful for friends and family who stepped in to take the kids to do all of the traditional things this year to keep their minds occupied, because I was a broken mess. Because although Jesus was raised from the dead, He also died. And that was where we were stuck for the moment.  

    We continued our second round of birthdays, Joy's on the 15th and my sister's on the 19th.  The kids and I definitely felt it. Even the older boys, I noticed because quite somber.  Some of the kids became really overactive.  As we anticipated celebrating yet another birthday without Patrick.  We had a last-minute gathering with family and a few close friends. One of my boys said, "I'm sorry I just don't feel like celebrating." I assured him and replied, "I think celebrating is a strong word. Today, we are commemorating, the day that this beautiful little tiebreaker, came into our lives."

    Play dates with friends, meetings with their mentors, fun class projects, birthday parties, spring basketball camp, meeting our new eye doctor, our first yard sale and volunteering at the food bank filled our calendars with beautiful things for April. We count all of the wins, great and small.  But to close out the month, we took the five younger kids to the Memorial Gardens for the first time, to officially see Patrick's "ornament." I'll have to post about that at another time, I'm still processing it.  

"But What About Mary, Mommy?"

 One of the things we've done this year is joined a Homeschool Learning Cooperative. While it has been a bit of a stretch and commitment, there have been some amazing moments of seeing my kids learn alongside their peers and good friends.  I'll post about that separately.  After her first class, Avielle came to me and looked slightly off. I asked what was wrong, and as usual, she replied "nothing." But as I began to dig her and ask questions about class and the lessons, that's when I hit the mark.  She started to passionately explain, about how no one cared about Mary, the mother of Jesus.  "What about Mary, Mommy? She had to watch her son die on a cross. That's awful! I feel so bad for Mary."

Avielle is our little theologian and would always talk to Patrick about his sermons. She loves God's word and has been a prayer warrior from a young age. Her heart is very tender, and for the rest of the day she couldn't focus on anything else but, "poor Mary." The story of Jesus's life, death and resurrection have affected us differently since the passing of Patrick.  Death and life are more palpable.  This is our second Easter without him, and it seems so mean and so wrong.  But Avielle's focus on Jesus's mother helped me to gather and pen my thoughts about this Resurrection Sunday. Mary's story of watching her son be crucified is a quiet, hidden headline.  The focus is on how Jesus got up! Jesus rose from the dead. But he did in fact die. And I can't imagine how His mother had to have felt watching that.  Today, watching everyone go on about their Sunday, with their raised hands and brunch plans...I felt like the grieving community of believers were a part of the quiet, hidden headline.  Jesus really rose; but Jesus really died, too.

Leading up to Sunday, we kept busy.  I am thankful for the folks who clocked in to help me because it has been a heavy week and I needed to keep the kids occupied. But today, we have struggled so very badly. The kids have cried off and on, and they have been quieter than usual. I woke up this morning trying my best to go about my normal Sunday morning tasks.  I knew the grief was there, it never relents.  But there is always a slight hope that this is a nightmare, or a cruel prank.  I found myself overwhelmed in a moment. I went into the bathroom, shut the door and began crying. "Not Again, Not Again, Lord NOT AGAIN!" How is it Easter, AGAIN, and Patrick is not here? What world am I living in? I didn't want this. I didn't see this for us...we weren't done. 

I would have given just about anything today to be color coordinated, and showing up to church as a whole family, hands raised, singing "Because He Lives" at the top of my lungs.  Our family loves Jesus. Our family LIVES Jesus, so why has this sorrow befallen us? But we did it. We showed up and went to church. We listened to the songs, we read the scripture. We all left, exhausted and somber. Thankfully we had planned ahead to go have dinner at my sister and brother -in-law's home.  We had good food, crafts, and many hugs.  

But the truth is, death is real. And while Christ did conquer the grave, Patrick is still not here with us. There is no song, no scripture that can take this ache away. Only God's grace is keeping us.  Yes, we will see him in heaven, but the fact that we don't know when that will be...the fact that in order to hug him again we will have to lay down these earthen vessels and leave others behind feeling this crushing weight of grief is incomprehensible.

Here are some thoughts I shared on Instagram about our day:

"I know: Because He lives, I can face tomorrow. I know: He conquered Death and the Grave. But now, I also know a pain that I can't believe my Lord allowed. If today you've lost someone and you're doing well, I am happy for you. We count all the wins.  But if today you've lost someone and you're down in despair and the songs and scripture don't take it away; don't feel guilty. Christ died for that too."

Community Clock In: The Best NEIGHBORS

 

Last night, the kids and I pulled into the driveway  from an evening playground run.  This has been our custom for as long as I can remember.  Most of our neighbors have dogs and they take them for their evening walk past our house on a regular basis. It's almost like clockwork.

I pulled in and let the kids go inside while I stayed in the car to catch my breath before clocking in to the bedtime shift of struggly solo parenting. I saw our neighbor, Matt, walking his two dogs, but then saw him cross in front of the van and come toward me.

"I know we usually don't talk, but we're moving and I wanted to know if you guys could use an extra long twin bed," he said. I explained to him that we had more beds than kids in our house which was a blessing and that we were getting ready to move also , this summer.  I inquired more about his move as he began to tell me that he and his wife had raised their son, and would now be moving to some acres they'd bought in Georgia.  After giving him my card and agreeing to help find someone who may be interested in the furniture, I went into my house and began to cry uncontrollably. 

My kids ran up to me and started giving me endless hugs.  Finally they asked, "what's wrong mom? What happened." I was taken aback by my own response. I yelled out, "Matt is moving away." The kids were confused as to why I cared this much about a man I'd never spoken with. But, this neighbor was the very first perso that Patrick met and interacted with when we moved here in 2021.  He took the kids for a walk and met Matt and his two dogs.  For the rest of the months that he was on this earth, he would acknowledge Matt and his dogs. Matt's connection to Patrick was something that I had no idea would hit me the way it did. Another thing, that is close to Patrick, that ties Patrick to us is going away. That unexpected trigger almost broke me.  Grief is like that. You really never know.

I decided to take this opportunity after my meltdown last night to gush about our amazing neighbors. This is our first time living in a neighborhood as opposed to a subdivision.  Since day one, these have been the finest and most helpful people we've come to know.  When Patrick was in the hospital, immediately after his surgery, we could come home to snacks, and drinks on our doorsteps.  People would constantly check in.  When my sister told my neighbors across the street that he had passed, they stood there crying and consoling each other.  They couldn't believe it. "I spoke to him one time. One time was all it took. He changed my life." That was the sentiment of many.  We had only been here about four months before Patrick's passing.  He made it a point to walk around the entire cul-de-sac to introduce himself and our family to the neighbors. He spent his life as an outreach pastor, corporate trainer, and established salesman. So, meeting people where they were, was his speciality.

In the days leading up to and after the celebration of life, I would come home to dinners, diapers, wipes, trash bags, groceries, drinks, etc. Every day for a long while, the neighbors took care of us. I remember on Christmas day, one of our neighbors walked over first thing in the morning with flowers for me and a kind note.  She was one of many.  On Christmas morning, people were leaving their families to come console ours.  I'm getting teary eyed typing this, because that level of beauty in humanity was something I so desperately needed.    

Several neighbors came over and brought additional chairs for my family to use and they visited. Another neighbor volunteered to take my kid to volleyball practice when I was simply overwhelmed with grief and anxiety and couldn't bring myself to drive. When Patrick was here, he would always fix the blinds.  I could never do it and I would get very anxious and frustrated.  When I didn't get to bring him home from the hospital, I realized that I was stuck with no one to help with the blinds.  One of my neighbors and her husband came over and adjusted them all for me and told me they'd be over to do it as often as I needed it.

There are so many stories of the beautiful people in this neighborhood showing up for me ,and perhaps it's the fact that we'll have to be leaving soon that I'm finally able to share these memories. After one very tough birthday, I had taken the kids on a quick overnight trip to Orlando.  This was the first boy to celebrate a birthday without their Dad, and it was HEAVY.  I cried almost the whole way home.  I knew that I needed to get gas but I was afraid that if I stopped, I wouldn't get back started and we'd be stuck in whatever town we were in.   So I made it all the way  back home but the tank was on E.  When I started the car later that afternoon to take Christian to basketball practice, of course it wouldn't crank.  One of my neighbors walked down to me, in the rain, and helped me and Christian to pour gas from our gas can into the tank. We were all wet from the rain and gas was leaking everywhere, as it was a new gas can that Patrick got us and I wasn't familiar with how to use it.  She didn't care.  She stayed there to help and even called to check on me to make sure I made it to the gas station. 

These stories ,these neighbors, this neighborhood will always have a special place in my heart.  Although I'm ready to move, I'm also anxious.  Leaving what has felt like a caring community to an unknown place without Patrick's seems daunting.  Everything is so bittersweet. I'll never forget their kindness, and I'll always be inclined and inspired by them to pay it forward.  

How is it already March? Spring Don't Mean A Thing

    I was on the phone with a sister who is dealing with a similar loss. I kept screaming, "How is it March? How is it already March of 2023?" Time is mean. And yes, I'm still screaming. How is it spring? How did we already have our first Wheeler Kid birthday of the year?  Where is Pat? How can we do this, another year without our person?

    I'm not ready for spring.  I drove past two home improvement stores, and they had all of the fresh, new, vibrant florals out on display. But there is no way any beautiful flowers will come from this. I'm not ready for spring. I vividly remember the pain and shock of our first spring after losing our person.  It was volatile, gut wrenching, and downright terrible.  

    How are we doing? For me, there are still daily breakdowns, gut punches of "reality", and just times when I laugh because I can't understand how this was really the move. How was THIS what God had next for us? As for my beautiful, brave, kind children-they're doing their best.  Although they still have meltdowns where they scream shout and cry; they are less frequent.  But, instead there are constant mood and behavior changes that highlight the sheer horror of being a grieving, solo parent.

    I can tell when they're sad or struggling because they will become argumentative, impatient, easily distracted, unmotivated and anxious.  So then, I have to put on my therapy mom hat and decide whether to cuddle, comfort or correct in those moments. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Making parenting decisions on my own, without Patrick has truly been one of the worst parts of this whole thing.  I was never meant to do this alone.

    We talk about Patrick every day, all day. I don't think that will change; I hope it doesn't.  I played a video the other day and his voice coming from the speakers of the laptop just...overwhelmed me. Because why is he not here? Everyone needs Patrick's voice, encouragement, laugh, and perspective.  I'm grateful for all of the people who call or text just to tell me a story about him, or to simply say, "I miss Pat, and I hate this."  It's been 15 month to the day that we rushed him to the hospital and the daily check-ins, meals, gifts, and gift cards have continued to come in.  Although we hate this situation, the outpouring of love is absolutely beautiful. 

    So I think, for me, my struggle is "how?" How do we keep pushing? What does this actually look like. As my 6 year old screamed a few weeks ago, "Why did you do this to US, God? Why Us?" I felt that in my soul. We're taking it day by day, moment by moment.  Trying to do things that work for us. Slowing down in some spaces, rediscovering and embracing others. 

I've been posting daily updates on Instagram, you can follow us @servingwith7.

I've Been Quiet:It's Been A lot

    This won't be cohesive. I haven't been blogging, it's been so much happening at once. A lot to ingest and attempt to digest. It's the end of January and I haven't even posted family updates since October.  Those holidays came in wrecking shop.  The books and the experts talk about how hard the "firsts" will be, but those seconds are brutal.  Since everything happened so close to Christmas for us, we were still numb and in raw heartache and disbelief. But the end of 2022 was indescribable. Completely terrible with moments of joy and God's supernatural strength. We made it.

    I'll start with this current month.  January has been a mixed bag, but it has been mostly hard with moments of light.  My kids who usually don't break down much, broke.  "Where is Pat? What do you mean we can't see or touch him again? We need to hear his voice, on this side?" We want our person back. This is stupid. Thirteen months later, this is still stupid.  We've spent the last several months linking up and loving on families who have also experienced a devastating loss. It's been beautifully, tragically, therapeutic. 

    Two very consistent things have been God's faithfulness and our village. I don't say it lightly, but I can't imagine where we would be without the overwhelming, constant kindness of God's people. I have too many stories to share here, but I will do so soon.  One of the most recent was a bunch of beautiful people working together to get us on our first family airplane trip to visit family.  Yes, I took all seven on a red eye by myself.  We did it. I did it.

    December we stayed very busy.  We planned for my birthday, the anniversary of our loss,  and first true Christmas without Patrick.  We made it, but my birthday was New Years Eve and it was arguably one of the worst days of 2022.  I didn't see that coming. We created new traditions and blended in some old ones, but it was very somber and struggly.  The kids' grief behavior has truly taken up so much of my time and energy. Being a counselor mom, a mom -mom,  a solo mom, and a grieving wife is a new level. A NEW level.

    November was extremely tough as it was the last Wheeler Kid birthday, and also a milestone one.  Our oldest son entered into his teenage years and Patrick was not here. That felt mean and brutal. I felt abandoned. The co-creator of our family is not here to welcome and guide my son into his teen years. That one hurt. I could tell that my son started to get anxious as the day approached. I watched him grapple with his identity, his loss, and the fear of the unknown in this new stage.  He made it through, and I did also.  But it's still a tough journey.  

    We also had our first Thanksgiving without Pat. My GOD why am I even typing that. It was the last holiday of 2021 that we would ever spend together.  Leading up to the actual day, we were crashing all over. So many meltdowns, so much ugly, so much grief, so many questions.  One of the best and most memorable moments that pierced through the darkness was a surprise visit from my baby brother Jaden. Albeit, he's 20 and not a baby, we all couldn't believe our eyes.  Our hearts needed this.  He was one of Patrick's faves.  Patrick and I met shortly after his birth.  My mom, sister, and brother-in-law arranged it all.

    Right now, I'm currently slowing down.  Someone told me a couple weeks ago, "You're entering into the second year and that's hard." I wanted to curse. "What? Why didn't you tell me this last year?". But it doesn't matter what anyone or any blog says, THIS IS ALL AWFUL. I spent the entire year running around putting my kids in all the things, for good reasons, but it took a toll on me and started to have diminishing returns.  So, I told the kids that we have to slow down and start to establish some basic, life-sustaining routines and responsibilities. Church, School, and counseling are our main focuses aside from sheer survival.  I have been posting a lot more on our Instagram account @servingwith7. Please keep praying for us, we're doing all the things.

                                Must Watch: Video of My Brother's Surprise Visit for Thanksgiving 

Community Clock In!-Grandparents Edition

    One thing that I can't say enough is how grateful we are for our community, near and far.  It's for certain, that our kids and our family is loved and covered.  I don't take for granted the outpouring of support and sheer kindness we've received from so many. Being that we moved to Florida over a decade ago with our family, we don't have grandparents nearby.  I always tell people that if I don't know anything else, I know that God provides.  On this struggly grief journey, what we've dubbed borrowed grandparents have clocked in overtime to make sure that these Wheeler Babies experience no lack! On top of being blessed to have them, it's also amazing to know how much joy they bring to their borrowed grands.  The selflessness of our friends who share their parents/grandparents with us in addition knowing that these little huggers are being a blessing makes my heart smile. That's so rare nowadays.  They have been so creatively instrumental in holding us together this year.  Whether they've covered us in prayer, or taken over for a friend trip...They have SHOWN up!

So today, I'm shouting out the Beautiful Borrowed Grandparents and Great Grandparents . If you have:

Taken them to cookies with Santa;

Shown up for their music recitals;

Rocked A little one to sleep;

Cheered them on at their basketball & volleyball games;

Given them swim lessons;

Taken them for a walk to the lake;

Taken them to the aquarium;

Braved the mall to take them shopping

Played Hide N' Seek;

Joined them in one of their EPIC dance parties;

Given endless hugs;

Baked Bread with them;

Taken them Fishing;

Given Unlimited Hugs;

...we need you, we appreciate you, and we thank God for you.  

 

Still Can't Believe it: 1 Year Update

 "Alright, we did it. We got through it. We get the point. Patrick can come home anytime now."

    It still feels like a cruel prank. This can't be permanent. The world needs light. Patrick was the God-given light for so many.  So this just doesn't feel right. Our life verse, as a couple and as a family is Romans 8:28. I know that all things work together for the good of those who love the Lord and who are called according to His purpose. We are called, we are purposed, God is the definition of good: but this SUCKS. 

    The week leading up to the anniversary date, the schedules were maxed out! We volunteered, had friend therapy, games/practices, and spent time just existing and loving one another. New traditions, old ones- all comingled as we approached the one year mark that seemed to come rather too quickly.  As a self-proclaimed nerd, I've read many books, blogs and articles about grief and the majority of them focus on the first anniversary of the loss.  But to me, it seems like it was yesterday. Time, for me, has stood still. Birthdays and holidays have come and gone, but I'm still standing there in that hospital parking garage saying to myself..."So, no more adventures?"

    The day came and went without much fanfare and with minimal meltdowns.  Much of this was due prayers and the thoughtfulness of our community. The phone rang out with texts, emails, messages and calls of shared sadness and solidarity. Gifts started to arrive and hugs were delivered as well.  The counselors were on standby; they were so gracious to check in.  But the entire week leading up to it...we were a wreck! People see me managing the daily demands of seven kids and their schedules and think,  "Wow, that's so much! I don't know how you do it." But behind the scenes, being counselor mom and solo parent; discerning what foreign behavior is grief or regular ol' testing of the wills is where the full blown exhaustion comes in.  In those moments, I feel the most anguish. I feel the most hopeless as I continually function without the presence  the co-creator of this beautiful chaos by my side.  That's when I truly ponder how this is possible. I yell out to God , "Really Bro? Is this really what you have for me?" But, instantly fear sets in and I yell back, "Not that I'm complaining, please don't take my children."

This is raw.

This is real.

This is ugly.

This is brutal.

This is messy. 

But the best way I can describe our journey as we walk through the valley with others right now is: beautifully, tragically, therapeutic. 

                                                 Pat and His Baby Momma x 7 (2019)

Messy Grief: Transitions & Traditions Pt 2

    So I'm realizing that this journey is anything but linear. It's ugly, it's raw, it's random and so many other things.  As the season of Fall descended and the holidays started creeping up,  the messiness of the grief became more obvious.  To be happy/sad/grateful/angry/somber at any given time was a regular occurrence.  A few days ago, we had a conversation that really solidified that things would be different from now on, and forever.  

    The days leading up to a big day always seem to be the worst.  The day between Max's 13th birthday and Thanksgiving, the kids decided to start talking about our Christmas tree tradition.  To my surprise they wanted to go and get a live tree again.  "It's tradition," they said.  I snapped back, "So is having a husband and a father to choose the tree and carry it!" I was angry and the grief was so raw. I was trying my best to hold it together and I just blurted that out.  

    I ended up just having to tell them that I couldn't do a tree. I could not come home day after day to a tree that Patrick didn't choose, didn't put up, and wasn't going to come home to.  Just typing that really hit me. It just took me back to last year; I just knew I was going to bring him home. I was sure of it.  The kids were disappointed about the tree,  but I came up with an alternative.  I decided they that they could have a few little trees to decorate and honor Jesus and their Dad's tradition if they wanted to. They would have to keep them in their room.  

    So yes there is the big loss. But then, there are so many tiny secondary losses and realities.  The loss of beloved traditions. The realization that I have to make all of these decisions solo. The reality that someone will be disappointed, either myself or them.  I hate making that choice, but I have to.  I just can't do it.

                                                  *Christmas 2020, Keeping the Tradition*