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.

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.

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.  

 

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*

4k Likes -Before the Blog

     I debated on whether or not I should post this, but then I realized something very important... This is our journey, and I have to share what and when I feel led and able to do so.  Last year when we had just made our big move, I joined an organizing group on Facebook.  It was one of my first groups of that nature. After seeing how much stuff we had to move, store, and throw away-I had to get a new strategy for our new home.  I would regularly post in the group and loved the interaction with the other members as we rooted each other on for successfully decluttering, organizing and upcycling our spaces. I had found a place on the internet where I received support and could learn new things.  I would often share with Patrick about the gems I gathered, and he'd watch curiously as I implemented new hacks and storage systems. 

    Several days after our loss, I remember being in a fog; trying to understand and process what just happened. So, I wrote.  One of the things that I wrote was a post in the Organizing Facebook group.  I had shared with the group before about decluttering and donating items, and I was now going to tell them that I had joined the subgroup of people who were making decisions about what to do with the belongings of a lost loved one. So, here is the post.  It gives a lot of information, but also insight into just how numb and confused I was in those initial days.  I'm still not far from that space now, but even in my darkness I hoped to help someone. The post received over 4,000 likes. I don't know if it was the tips shared or the heart wrenching story of my loss.

                                                                    The Post

Hey everyone! This was one of my absolute favorite groups when I was on here. I shared a few months back that I unexpectedly lost my husband. He was 39 we had been married for 16 years and had seven beautiful children. I will be leaving Facebook , but this is not an announcement. This just to update you guys on some things that I’ve discussed here. One of the last posts was about his clothing. Before all of this happened, I had paid special attention to the posts about what to do with someone’s belongings once they were no longer with us. Those posts stood out to me, and my heart went out to each person. I would’ve never in my life thought that I would join the club so soon.

Here’s what I did and what I’m working through.

*Get life insurance

My husband had a small policy with his job that did not offer as much as we used to have. So, I immediately got life insurance*for myself *, enough to payoff *a home at minimum*

Ladder or AAA has good rates *hoping to save someone some time looking, it took me a while. Friendly help, no ad*



*Organize your important paperwork

I bought an accordion file for all of his information, and a separate one for me and my kids. I ordered all new copies of any missing paperwork like Social Security card or birth certificates. Any investments and things like that I put it in there and let my kids and my closest family members know where the file was. I would also include any vehicle or home warranties or any contracts that are outstanding. 

*  Label your unimportant or old paperwork. Throw it out if you can! Do not want someone having to go through all of this for you.

*  Lastly when it came to his clothes, I kept all of his shirts some of his pants, but I washed and gave away a lot of things that we didn’t need to keep. I was glad that I washed them so that I can get rid of them quickly Without overthinking it. 

It’s been almost 6 months. Our family and faith community has been everything to us.

The grace and comfort of God is holding us together. He was a huge deal to so many, especially us. He loved everyone 

*Overwhelmed with the beautiful responses, truly *

              *Pictured above is an entryway bench that Patrick and I refinished. It was our last project*

Family Updates for September

September. September. September was a lot. It rolled in with another struggle holiday without our person and went out with us fleeing the path of Hurricane Ian. Parenting has been wearing me out. The days are getting harder. But I'm able to articulate clearer.  My kids' smiles have brought me joy, and their honesty is golden.  Alas, here are the highlights from September. 

Sharing Via Social Media

We started an Instagram account, @servingwith7.  I found that there were things that I wanted to share about our journey that I may not be able to devote a full blog post to. So far, it's been a great experience to give short updates and share wins. Thanks to everyone who follows us and cheers us on in this valley place. Due to some glitches with our blog subscription box, we also created a website, servingwith7.com. This provides a way to get the most updated blogs, a place to send your stories, and ways to help our family. I'm one of the least tech savvy people I know, but the templates made it easy.

One-on-Ones

Some beautiful friends and grandparents on loan took the kids on more one-on-one dates this month.  It really helped to have the littles entertained and out of the house to enjoy breakfast, the park, and story time at the library. Our community really is everything. We are so grateful. 

Biscuits N' Grace

We also had an amazing time at what Benji has dubbed Biscuits n' Grace. Some special friends hosted us for breakfast and a dance party, and it was so therapeutic. 

Church & Outreach

The kids had Invite Night at the local church, and I was truly in awe as they got excited and prepared to share the gospel with friends they'd invited to the festivities. They have all enjoyed the lessons and learning alongside their friends. In a time where "faith is fragile", they show up and God meets them there. 

This month, I watched the kids do something extremely brave.  We were invited to a Life Group (Adult Sunday School) at the local church to share about Kid's Grief Group and how it's been helpful in our healing process. These kids, The Lord's kids, were so composed and articulate as they shared their struggles and lessons learned about grief. We are grateful to Mr. Shook for the invite, and it was good to look into the eyes of prayer warriors who have been committed to lifting us up in this struggle season. I will post more about this later.

Therapy & Activities

The kids are still doing well in karate, basketball, and boxing.  Therapy has been a great outlet and I'm grateful for our team. We will be slowing down this fall and trying a few new things and will keep everyone posted. I realized that I was running too hard and in the words of Paul the Apostle, although all things may be permissible, not all of them are beneficial.  

Hurricane Drama

Hurricane Ian came through at the end of the month brining some unnecessary angst and anxiety. Some amazing friends encouraged us to evacuate with them to Orlando and then the storm followed us there. Thankfully, the kids slept peacefully through it and got to enjoy fun times with friends as we weathered the storm together. We made it back home safely, with no damage and our power had been restored. Thanks to all of the prayer warriors who flooded our phone with prayers and offers to help.

The Momma 

This past month for me was, it wasn't kind. Even as I type this, I'm just hoping that someone will be blessed in some small way by us sharing what we're reluctantly having to walk though.  But I did two brave things.  First, I was invited to guest blog for Lost Poet Press; the publishing company that brought Patrick's devotional to life. I felt honored to be able to share a word of encouragement, and it felt good to hear from God who gave me the story and words to share. And secondly, I was able to share our testimony and story for National Life Insurance month for a podcast that was bringing awareness to the importance of having coverage for your loved ones.  As the date approached to record the podcast, I wondered if I was ready to share but the host was gracious. I told her that I didn't want to focus on our loss, I wanted to focus on our story and encourage people to have the hard talks.  One thing I've learned is that helping people makes me feel normal. It makes me feel like my old self, when my world was whole. 

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'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?"

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. 

Community, Clock In!

I am constantly amazed and humbled at how our village of family and friends show up for us, especially in a clutch.  This month I've been overwhelmed at the response as I've reached out more and more for help.  I wouldn't use strong words like "routine" or "schedule", but I can say that I'm starting to see patterns in places where help is needed and effective.  Eight months into our journey and I have to say, it seems like it all just happened yesterday. It's not "Getting better" as some would absurdly suggest; but here are some examples of ways that the community has clocked-in for us.

After a long day at Homeschool Co-op, my sister and Brother-in-law came to the house to take Benji on a one-on-one. He got to go to dinner, the Lego store, and even rode the carousel. Although I was hosed up that day, having them step in and give him that solo time was so very helpful. On that same day, a family friend stopped by after a long day at work and put together bikes for Kendall, Max, and Elijah. 

One struggly Saturday, I was completely overwhelmed, and Patrick's close friend and his son came and took the boys for golf and pizza.  Although the rest of the day was crazy, it allowed them to have some guy time. On the same day, our friends took Avielle to do outreach, lunch and brough her home after. I had a lunch meeting and was surprised to come home, and my sister had come over to take Amira, Kendall and Benji on a neighborhood walk.

Last Saturday was unreal, and unexpectedly so.  The older boys are playing basketball this season on two different teams, with two different game times.  I hadn't fully planned on how that would work out or how tiny ones would get restless in between games.  I was also not prepared for the emotional fallout of a potential game loss. I was a wreck.  A friend came to take the older boys to lunch and to Bass Pro Shop and my sister saw me melting down and offered to take the Baby girls (Avi & Joy) later that afternoon to her house to chill and have some pool time.  That left Kendall and I to spend time together and take the little ones to the splash pad. 

And then, there are days like today. We were hosted for lunch and hugs, but I forgot we had piano. So, I made a call to our awesome music teacher and asked if she could meet us at our friend's house if we set up the keyboard and special space to practice. She graciously obliged and we got to have a great time on a day that started off rocky.  Then, we got home just in time to meet Ms. Jaclyn who came over to lead the kids in Bible Yoga as they focused and meditated on Isiah 41:10. They stretched, focused their minds on the Lord, and had a great time.  Then I received a message, "I'm having dinner delivered or y'all tonight."  

There have been days when it took several sets of people to help hold down the fort. We've had friends host us for breakfast, neighbors to deliver groceries and help me figure the gas can when I've run out of gas (and energy) and couldn't get the van to start. I've had a friend show up to meet us at the mall with tools in hand to replace my headlights and taillight bulbs!  My brother-in-law takes the boys for haircuts, friends send lawn care and dinner deliveries.  My accountability/pastors/counselors who send encouragement via text and calls. And to each and every prayer warrior- we appreciate you.   Every prayer turns into a small dance party, or a belly laugh, or a fun story about adventures with Dad. 

So, thank you, thank you, and may God bless you ten times above and beyond what you continue to pour out to our family. 

                                                                Courtesy of Bible Yogini August 2022

The Unanswerable Question Part 2: "How y'all doing?"

Today I figured I'd answer this question by giving a glimpse into our day. Today is Thursday, August 25, 2022 and here's how it went.

Mornings-Are still hard, and lately they've been getting worse. For a split second today, my eyes opened and I thought, "Okay, I'm okay. Okay enough to function." But within about five minutes, I'm back to, "How can I do this again. I can't get up, I won't."  I looked over and realized that Benjamin had slept through the night in the twin bed in our room for the second night in a row: Definitely counting that win.  As I've mentioned before, I try to schedule everything I can in the morning in an effort to get up and moving. Every Thursday for the majority of this year, I get up and take the littles to play/art therapy. Amira, Benjamin, Joy and Avielle rotate, so we're there for at least an hour and a half.  I knew I had to get up. When I got up, around nine, all of the kids were still sleeping. I yelled for them to get up and get moving so that we could go to Mrs. Katherine's.  With the exception of Kendall, who was headed for a morning at the mall with Mrs. Marcie, everyone got ready to pile into the van. Except for Elijah.  I asked everyone where he was and yelled for him several times.  This week, most of this month honestly, he's been very slow to come downstairs and start his day.  My guess is that he's been dreading his upcoming birthday. I'll post about this later in detail.

Usually I just yell upstairs, but this morning I wasn't having it. So, I charged upstairs to get him myself. When I got up to his room, he was just standing there. I asked him what he was doing, and he quickly looked over and grabbed the cologne and said, "I'm getting ready, putting on cologne." I know my son. My momma-sense went off and I looked at him in the eyes. I told him that I would do just about anything to fix this situation. I told him that it was unfair, and I knew he was angry.  I let him know that he was a great son and deserved his Dad. As we hugged, he held me so tightly while I cried. We were late for counseling.

Counseling went well in the sense that everyone enjoyed talking to the therapist and for the first time ever, Amira stayed with her and allowed me to leave the room to set the other kids up on their schoolwork in the lobby. Because we do schoolwork in the lobby of the therapist office, because that's our life.  At one point, Elijah was struggling with a math problem. He was using online scratch paper and it wasn't working out. So, I broke out my eyeliner pencil, and helped him write out the problem. He ended up with a 91% on the assignment, Max scored 100%. They are excellent at math, but I told them both that I was simply proud of them for pushing through. 

After counseling I visited the Chicago food truck since I was on that side of town to grab pizza puffs for lunch. I got there, ordered and began weeping. The last time I was there, Boyz II Men was playing on their radio. I cried then, too.  I stood there bawling and Joy asked, "Mom why are you crying, what happened?" I replied, "for the next ten years at least, I'll only be crying for Daddy."  All of the kids surrounded and hugged me through it. We only broke up the group hugfest when another patron walked up and said, "Ma'am I'm so sorry, excuse me but I can't get out."  Apparently, I had created a parking space and was blocking all of the other customers in.  We made it home, met Kendall and took a second to exhale from a long morning. 

The kids finally went down for a nap...at 4:15pm, Benji had to be at the YMCA for his sports discovery program at 5:15pm. I had to sit and make a decision whether to let them nap or risk the fallout of disappointment if he woke up and had missed his soccer session. This may seem small but trying to be a good mom, navigate fallouts, on top of vacillating between functionality and soul-crushing disbelief at any given moment is just...I have no words.

After all of this, I take the kids to one Y for Benji, and then back to another Y for Elijah's basketball practice. It's raining, Joy's crying, Avielle is withdrawn and sad, we haven't had dinner and it's 6:20pm, and my phone is dead. Thankfully, my sister and Leon remembered that I said I needed their help, so they met me at the Y and were able to stay with Elijah while I took the other kids home to eat dinner. 

My bed is full of clean laundry, but my kids don't have any motivation to put it away. I don't have enough hands or ears. "What does it matter? Who cares what we wear? Who cares where we go? What's the point of it all?" Some days are like this, and I can't even blame them. We ended the night watching a video of Patrick baptizing Elijah and Avielle last year. I don't know how tomorrow will look, but I want to thank you all, my village near and far, for every single prayer and caring deed. 

Elijah's Bday : Chicago 2019

Letter of Loss: The Purpose of the Blog (Jan. 2022)

 *This was originally sent out via email or facebook post at the beginning of this year. Newer readers of the blog can find a short version of our story below*

  On Saturday December 4, 2021, Patrick was out shopping for our Prayer and Produce Outreach.  The morning was usual, except I decided to bring the oldest four kids to him at Aldi and let him get a head start at the store where he would meet Aileen, one of our Community Outreach Leaders.  I pulled up and sent the kids into the store to help Patrick and Aileen shop and load the car with produce for the outreach that would start at 11:30am.  Earlier that morning at home, we decided that I would keep the youngest three with me as it had been hard on them to tag along as the outreach was during their nap/lunch time. That day, after dropping them off, I stayed close and went to Home Goods next door. I got a call from my oldest daughter Kendall about 20 minutes later from Patrick's phone, she said "Dad has a pain in his chest and needs you to come over." So I went over on foot, and when I arrived, he was in Aileen's truck partially reclined  and calmly said "I need you to bring the car." So, I got the van and drove around back to load him and take him to the ER. Patrick instructed Aileen on how to carry on with the prayer and produce without him. She later told me that he made her promise to "keep it going."  On my way to get the van, I called my sister Kandace and asked her to come get the kids.  The kids and I quickly dropped Patrick off at the ER and then I drove them home, about an 8 minute drive. I got them something to eat and ran back out to meet Patrick at the hospital. When I went in, they basically said that he had an aortic tear, and they could not operate and wanted to airlift him to Tampa General.  So, I tried to keep calm and keep him calm, as they made these preparations. After a while, they decided that moving him was too much of a risk and told us that the top heart surgeon was in route to Brandon  to operate on him.  The surgery was more than five hours and although it went well, Patrick's other organs did not tolerate the trauma of the surgery and six days later he passed. Kandace (my sister) was there with me and never left my side. The nurses and doctors worked so very hard, I watched them try everything they could think of. Everyone, every single person, of every age, race, theological background, was shocked. We were all waiting on the testimony of healing on this side. The immediate outpouring of love, support, and shared grief has been humbling. He was the very best of us. One of the last things he said to my (daughter) Avielle was "You did so good baby" as she was one of the most excited to do outreach on that Saturday and was helping him to shop.  Patrick turned down an opportunity to watch the Alabama game with my brother-in-Law, Leon because he had a one-on-one date planned with Kendall (our oldest daughter) later on that Saturday. 

The last thing he was doing before going into the hospital was spending time with his children and modeling servant leadership for them.  They were excited to go out with him and share the love of Jesus in the community. That's who he was.  One of his last accomplishments on the job as Director of Logistics, was finalizing a Mental Health Initiative for his employees that included paid meditation/prayer time, spiritual yoga, as well as other resources provided by the company.  He told me that a lot of people were hurting and going through, he took everyone's pain and story as his own.  Patrick never met a stranger, if you spent 10 minutes with him, you felt like you had gained a new best friend. So very genuine, kind and funny.  He was everybody's hype man, if you had any doubt about what you could do, he would make sure to encourage you.  I’ve known him for almost two decades. He was my very best friend and true love, my partner. He always made sure that the kids and I felt loved and prioritized. He loved the community, family, friends and all of our partners. One of our friends put it best, "the world will be a little darker without him here." Thank you for your support and prayers as we seek God for supernatural comfort, healing for our hearts, and next steps.

Blessings & Peace,

Keisha L. Wheeler

He was just here: Story of Two Photos

For the past week I've been working on photo projects, and I came across these two ...for a second time.  A few months ago, I saw these and I honestly didn't know how to process it. I still don't. One of the things I'm so grateful for, is the fact that I took photos and videos of almost everything.  But in the process, I learned to take several quick snaps in order to capture the right moment.  Often, I was trying to simply get all of the kids to look at the camera at the same time.  On this day, Patrick took the kids fishing. It was one of many times; he loved to fish.  Almost every time, it would take us forever to get set up only for one of the kids to have to potty and the whole trip would be a wrap. Or they would start arguing and scare the fish away.  They didn't understand that the entire pastime was predicated on peace, stillness, patience and quiet. The kids were just happy to be with their dad, doing anything.  And thankfully, I was in the background recording the moments.  

When I looked back at the photos, I realized that I snapped them a few milliseconds apart.  In one, Patrick hadn't yet walked into the frame and then in the other he had just walked in. But Avielle is in the same spot. Scrolling through the pics in reverse, it seems like one second, he was there, and the next he wasn't.  This is painful, this still feels mean and wrong. One day Avielle said, "God heard Dad telling me that he couldn't wait to babysit my kids when I grew up, and He still took HIM!" 

Prayers For My Babies

For some reason on today and yesterday, words and yearnings for my kids began to flow.  Although, I 'm still not praying much more than, "Thank you for salvation, thank you for my support system, thank you for provision." But my heart started to overflow, and I was able to put words to my hopes and fears for my children.  I had a short list of prayer warriors whom I had spoken with recently and I sent the requests to them.  So today, on this day....8 months since my world was rocked to the core, I'm sharing these specific requests. I'm hoping that this will give you all insight and guidance on how to continue to petition God on our behalf. You are so appreciated.

Benjamin

That he would continue to feel loved and accepted and that the anger will subside.  That God will soothe him and that we may support him in his healing. Also, that he would continue to be a light, a comforter, and a calming force.

Avielle

That God will put a hedge of protection around her and her gifting. That she will always feel her father near, and that she will not give in to the temptation and just give up. That she will believe in the goodness of the Lord. That God would place good people alongside her so that she will never feel alone or isolated in her calling. That she will find and rest in her true identity in Him, alone.

Elijah

That he would not quit. That he would tap into the calling and gifting that God has given him.  That he will press through and press on in honor of how Patrick raised him. That he would have things in life to look forward to and be comforted by the Most High God in a unique, almost smothering way! That he would believe in the goodness of the Lord again and wouldn’t be sidelined by fear of disappointment. That he will always feel close to Jesus and Patrick.

Christian

That God will draw him closer than ever before. That he would walk in his calling confidently and boldly. That he will understand that no amount of hard work or perfection will change God ‘s plan for his life, or God’s sovereignty. That he will learn to process through his grief in healthy ways and know that he is uniquely created, purposed, an amazing for whose he is. That God would put people in our lives to be role models for him and that he will know without a shadow of a doubt that he bears Patrick’s image in many ways. That he never feels alone.

     Kendall

That Christ would comfort her and remind her who she is in Him. That she  will have motivation to use her many gifts and talents to be a blessing to this world. That she will connect hard work and determination to good stewardship. That she will never lose the ability to wake up every morning expecting to see the goodness of the Lord in that day: walking in the light of the Lord and the legacy of her Dad. 

Joy

Joy is uber angry and confused.  Pray that God would do a thing and that she would hope again. That she would accept good things without fear of them being snatched away. And that God will just take her to new heights in healing and living in her Dad’s legacy. He’s the ONLY one who can. 

Amira 

That Patrick’s imprint along with the Holy spirit will always make sure that she feels “fathered." That He would soothe her in a supernatural way and keep all doubts, fears, and attacks of inadequacy out of her head. That she will continue to be a strong leader and lover of people. 

Family Updates for July

Lord Jesus, July!

I'm not saying that in vain! I truly mean it. July came in, knocked all the trinkets off of the shelf of general store and ran out the back door with HASTE! This summer was a lot, almost in an overwhelming way. With health drama, extracurriculars, birthdays, milestones and celebrations I feel like I braced myself accordingly. There is a lot to share, so I will only post brief highlights. I hope to blog more in August as follow-ups to some things I'm sharing below. 

The Firsts

For the first time since I can remember, Benji woke up and shouted, "I had a good dream mommy!"  He went on to tell me that in the dream, he was a power ranger.  This started my day off with a praise.  God knows, and so do many of you, how Benji has been having nightmares and night terrors every single night since the passing of his Dad. Mornings are awful for me, but I will never forget that morning as it was an answer to prayer.

One night as we all sat down for nighttime prayer, Max asked God to help him and the basketball team to do well. I heard him carefully crafting his words to make sure that he was shielding himself from any disappointment of an unanswered prayer. (A post for later). Although Max, Elijah and their team lost the game, Max shot the ball! In previous games, he hadn't taken a single shot out of fear of not making it. When he came home from the game he said, "Mom, I overcame my fear of taking shots. I took some and made them! God showed up for me." 

Another Holiday

There was no way to prepare for the fourth.  As the month of July rolled in, I once again began to feel the loss of Patrick in a physical way. None of the busyness could pad me from it, and I didn't expect it to.  I'm thankful for my sister and our friends the Thomases for stepping in and taking the kids as I felt like my feet were in mud the entire day.  We had just bought Patrick his first brand new grill last August after we sold our home and moved here. As it sat unused on a day that our family looked forward to enjoying being together and tasting his award-winning barbecue, the feeling was gut-wrenching.  The ram in the bush came in the form of our beautiful neighbors.  On our way home, the kids were finishing up a debate on whether we could do fireworks or not. Just as we turned onto our street, our neighbors flagged us down and insisted that we come back for food and fireworks.  That took a huge burden off of me and it was a beautiful time for myself and those of my kids who could bear it.

Birthdays

Our "bookends" as Patrick would call them, the youngest and oldest, had birthdays this month. Both were milestones in my opinion. Amira turned two and Kendall turned fourteen. In anticipation of both of those days and on heels of Fourth of July, I was not okay. His absence felt so heavy, so wrong, and so unreal. On a bright note, beautiful friends and families made the girls feel special. We had special friends who were visiting from Tennessee and Kosovo and were able to come by and celebrate with us. God was near.

Fun Things

Avielle and Elijah had an excellent time at the week-long worship camp at a local church. They are two of the most reserved of the kids and to see them on stage, memorizing all of the moves and lyrics as they performed a musical about Jonah was very refreshing for all of us.  For the rest of the month, we had playdates, gymnastics, basketball games, karate and anything else indoors that we could do. We even got a chance to do horseback riding for the first time, in honor of Kendall's birthday. 

Fishers of Men Ceremony & Award

Shortly after Patrick's heavenly promotion, a local charitable organization dear to our hearts came to me with an idea to honor his legacy and commitment to the community. Although I wasn't ready at that time, they patiently waited and we were able to have the ceremony on the 16th.   A young man was honored with the Fisher's of Men award, a college friend and brother in ministry came to speak, and we were surrounded with friends, family, and the entire village. It was truly a beautiful and humbling honor.

Church 3 Year Anniversary

This was tough.  About five years ago, God gave Patrick and I a vision for a church; really, an outreach ministry.  We watched and were obedient as he arranged and ordained all of the pieces to come to fruition in the summer of 2019.  Our entire family hasn't been back to the church for months, it's been too hard.  But on the 24th, we all came together to honor what God had done and is still doing. The service was wonderful, intimate, honorable and we made it through. I'll share more on this later.

Hard Things

Parenting was hard this month. Solo parenting through loss and disappointment is grueling. It was all hard this month.  I had to re-sign a lease, buy new tires, hire a plumber and a couple of other things that I was fully capable of doing, but wished I didn't have to. Things that I wouldn't be doing in my old normal life, the one where my "husbae" was by my side.  I found myself angry this month and just missing our partnership. Life is a lot, and we were better together.  I also pushed myself to go out on a notary assignment and that was a good change of pace for me and I'm looking forward to continuing to do more.  

Immeasurable Kindness

At the end of this month, I received a certified letter from Hillsboro Memorial Gardens. My heart sank, and people close to me know how much I hate dealing with "final things".  The letter was a paid in full certificate, showing that a couple of exceptional people had anonymously taken care of the "decoration" for Patrick's Memorial.   It was only an act of God that carried me through making the customary arrangements for the "Heaven Party" as the kids called it. I later realized that I didn't know how or even where to notify others of the location of his memorial.  So, to have someone think so much of our family and our person, to take care of this...we are watching God carry us. 

The Accident-Throwback Storytime *with update*

*This is the original text I sent in January of 2022, the accident took place on 12/21/2021*

One month ago today, a few days after the memorial services… Benjamin and I were hit head on in the van. He needed a moment away from the house and I took him about a mile and a half up the road to a dollar tree. A 16-year-old was trying to show Boat (per onlookers) and zoomed out of a side parking lot, sped up and hit us as we were pulling ahead from a full stop at the stop sign. Both airbags deployed and burst. Ben and I were ok, but I didn’t even share this because I was numb. God kept us, but it was truly just…unreal. It was a blur, it was dark, and I didn't even know what the guy looked like.  Patrons from the local restaurants came running out screaming at the guy and taking pictures. Then an elderly grandmother came over, laid hands on Benjamin and I, and prayed over us in Jesus's name.   Benji was so brave he didn’t even cry.  He may have also just been overwhelmed with shock.  Two of the kindest cops came to the scene and talked to me and encouraged me. They stated that they normally did not do crash sites but when they heard over the radio about our circumstance (our recent loss) they wanted to come and check on us. The next morning, I was gearing up for what I thought may be a fight with the insurance company. But when I called in, the representative interrupted me stating that the father who owned the car had already called Geico and claimed fault for the accident. We just got our van back today, lots of memories. Lots of sadness…and divine comfort. Thanks for checking on us & praying.

**Update from July 2022**

A car wash recently opened up near our home.  They have the best vacuums and so we stop there often.  A few weeks ago, as I was headed into the tunnel, one of the workers stopped and asked if I had been in an accident.  I replied that I hadn't since it had been a while ago and I had many other things on my mind.  He said, "Oh okay because I was in an accident a while back and this van looks familiar." When he said that, I asked if he was in an accident in the plaza up the street.  He confirmed and I told him, "Yes, you hit me and my baby."  He replied, "Ma'am I've felt so bad about that this whole time. I'm really sorry for what I did." In that moment, I was able to forgive him and tell him to have a blessed day.  Of all of the things going through my head and heart during that moment, I remember just being humbled and grateful to be a part of this young man's story.  So many people don't get a chance to right a wrong. The fact that he "found me" and I was able to give him my forgiveness was.... I won't forget that."

Mommy & Benji 2020

Hail! Mary! - Storytime

 A few months ago, I got to a place where I was reliving every moment of Patrick's six days in the hospital.  Although I have no medical experience, I was grateful to have my best friend, a respiratory therapist, nearby to help me work through it.  One night, I got that feeling, "Did they do everything? Did they do their best to save Patrick?"  I'm sure this is common, but I remember feeling God's grace in that moment.  Looking back, I know it was Him keeping those thoughts at bay. Because honestly, regardless... here we are and I'm sure those questions at that time could have driven me into a dark, dark place making daily functionality impossible.  Nevertheless, I had to confront them and work through it. I sent my best friend a video message babbling, it was late.  I remember asking, "At the hospital, when you lose someone, is there a meeting? How does everyone know that they did everything they could have to save the person?" I did not get an answer back that night.  

The next morning, a close friend had come over to do some handyman work for us. It was quite a busy day and I was running! It started out rocky because Elijah was struggling and, in his grief, he was being snappy.  We both raised our voices, and I declared a full time out. After I cooled off, I came back and told him that I understood how he was feeling and asked if there was anything he wanted to ask me.  He blurted out, "Yeah, Mom what happened? On that day, what happened?" I told him that I was glad he asked and that I waiting for the right time to tell him.  I assured him that I was an open book and when he felt his heart could take it, I'd share whatever I could.  I began telling him about the day and about one part in particular. 

 "When I walked into the hospital that morning, one of the head nurses, Mary, hugged me.  She didn't strike me as the affectionate type but since we had spent several days together, I figured I was growing on her.  But she didn't let go, she hugged me tightly and that sent off an alarm.  Even then I remember thinking "You don't have to hold me that tight lady, he's going to be fine."

After I told Elijah the details as best as I could, he seemed to feel a little lighter. We all got in the car to drop him off to PE at the local school for his forty-five-minute class.  For some reason I asked the kids, "Do you want to go to the park on Parsons?" We never go to the park on Parsons, especially when Elijah is at PE.  The park is right near the hospital. It's where we dropped Patrick off for the last time.  To my surprise they agreed to go, so I started up the road.  I know this town like the back of my hand, after being in the area for over a decade. But oddly on this day, I got turned around. I realized I wasn't on the right street. So, after making a few turns, I ended up on Parsons. For the first time, I felt super anxious driving past the hospital. As I got past it, I saw a little lady in full scrubs walking along the lake between the hospital parking garage and the playground. It was Nurse Mary; I would recognize her anywhere.

When I saw her my face flooded with tears.  I immediately pulled over in a dirt parking lot across from where she was walking. The kids were slightly alarmed trying to figure out what I had seen and why I was frantically pulling over.  I jumped out of the van, clad in Pat's Preservation Church t-shirt and oversized flip flops, and ran over to her waving my arms. I now realize how maniacal I may have appeared, but I couldn't stop myself. As I ran toward her yelling "Mary, Mary", she stopped, looked around and pulled up her mask.  I was across the street, running to her full speed.  She was an elderly woman, so I'm sure all kinds of things ran through her head, but she braced herself as she realized that she had technically no other option.  

When I got to her, I told her that I was Patrick Wheeler's wife and that I wanted to thank her for taking good care of my Baby. She truly was an excellent nurse; she gave me all of the reports and she cared for him in an "overprotective grandma" sort of way.  Mary replied in a quivering voice, "We loved him, and we love you. Keep taking good care of those babies." Then, I got the answer to the question that God heard me ask the night before. "Mary, but did y'all do everything? Did you do everything you could for him, are you sure?", I asked desperately. She replied "Baby, we did. We absolutely did."

Pat N' Keisha (Spring 2017)

"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.