Tuesday, September 29, 2009


It still shocks me. The finality of it all.
I will never see my son again. Except in my mind. In my memories. In videos. In pictures.
Like right now. I can't sleep. Because it hit me once again.
This finality.

I have this typical Michael phrase that I play in my head. Daily. I have this fear that one day I won't remember the way he said it. Or the way he put emphasis on certain syllables.

I fear the not remembering.
I am afraid.

I am awkward amongst people. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. I can say that I am OK. I'm not. I can laugh. But it is not sincere. It is not filled with joy.

I am afraid of not experiencing joy again.
My family was happy. We were loving. We were close.

And now, we just exist. As if waiting for something. Anything.
Days are meant to be gotten through. Not lived.
My days are just hallways to my nights. My nights are the passageways to a new day.

Just when I think that I have hit the depths of despair.
I find a new level.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009


Today I decided to do a work out video in my bedroom. Don't laugh. It is just that ... I had walked my 3 miles at the gym. But I am embarrassed to use the weights. I know. It's ridiculous. So I decided to do my Hi-Def Firm video. In the privacy of my own home. Where no one can see me struggle. Or grunt. Or sweat.

Because no one else is doing that in the gym. Uh. Huh.

I don't often use the DVD player in our bedroom. I'm not much of a home movie watcher. Unless it is a made for TV movie. Or a TBS Sunday afternoon special. Then I am all in.

When I opened the DVD player this afternoon, out popped ELF. Michael and I's favorite Christmas movie. We watched it all the time during the Christmas season. We love it. And I think that the last time we watched it was just before the Christmas holidays. It was part of our Advent activity for the day. Popped popcorn. Hot Cocoa. And Elf. In my room with our pajamas.

We had our favorite parts. And would sing while at Target ... I'm in a Store and I'm singing ... every time we went together over the season.

This DVD ... just reminded me of the precious moments that I am missing. It was a surprise reminder of the precious moments that I took for granted. Over the holiday season. I just assumed that I would have another Christmas. And another. And another. I just assumed that I would have years with my son.

I assumed that I would see him graduate fifth grade. And then high school. And then college. I assumed that I would see Michael grown up and perhaps have children of his own.

I assumed that I would get to watch Elf again. With him. In our pajamas.

I don't know that I will ever be that carefree again. To take for granted the many days I might have with someone. To be able to plan for the future without fear that the main person in that far off thought will not be there.

I made assumptions. I thought we had more memories to make.
And this Elf DVD ... it reminded me once again. That I don't.

Friday, September 18, 2009

The 3 Day Walk

I thought I would share the below on my blog as well...

Hi Friends and Family:

Last year, I walked every step of the 3 Day Walk for Breast Cancer. I did that with the support of my family and friends. My supporters who donated, and gave me words of encouragement and came out to the Cheering Stations to root me on. All of you. Thank you. For supporting me in my crazy adventure. For asking about it when I got back. For cheering me from afar. For making posters and leaving them on my front step. My family. My friends.

I came home with 6 blisters on my left foot. But also with a feeling that I could accomplish anything. I loved every moment of the walk. It was hard. It was long. It was rainy. But I made a great new friend along the way. I heard amazing stories of survival. And amazing stories of loss. I manicured my nails in my Gram’s signature red. I wore her jewelry. I carried her photo. I shared her story with my new friends.

I wanted to be a part of that experience again. I promptly signed up for the walk again. Visions of more training walks and fundraising events danced in my head. The training schedule called for starting in May. No problem … I signed up for the walk in November. I had plenty of time.

And then in April, my world came crashing down when my sweet Michael passed away. Suddenly. On a Thursday.

This walk was the last thing on my mind. I didn’t want to do anything. Let alone walk or fundraise or even get out of bed.

I have had 5 months to consider this decision. I made a decision to do the walk a few months ago. But I waffled again. Michael was such a part of the walk last year. He brought me band-aids. And Icy Hot. And gave me the best hugs at the Cheering Stations. He was so proud of me. He told his friends at school about it. He wanted to walk with me when he was old enough. He had plans to make posters this year.
How could I complete this without him?

How could I not do it? I made a commitment. I will stick to it. Michael will be with me every step of the way. Of this I am sure.

So. I have started my training in earnest. Am I ready for the walk? Nope. But I have a good start. I will be completing my long walks this weekend. To get a feel for where I am. I have 6 weeks to get ready. A condensed training schedule, to be sure. But I’ll make it work.

I have angels on my side. Michael and my Grams.
I’ll walk. Because they can’t.

I am once again coming to you to ask that you consider donating to this cause. To this walk. To stop Breast Cancer. I have the daunting task of raising $2300.00 in 6 weeks. I should probably be worried. But I’m not.

Have I mentioned that I have angels on my side? Michael and my Grams. And all of YOU.

Here is the link to my personal donation page. You will be able to add your donation on-line here or print out the donation form to mail in your donation.

If you are so inclined, please send my e-mail to your family and friends as well. And finally, please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I'm going to need them.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

staying home

I just don't know what to do with myself.

I quit my job just a week ago. A full week of my part time position. Mixed in with some trips to the gym. And more than a little sadness.

Don't get me wrong. I am very grateful for this time. This time to heal. And grieve. And stay in my bed if I need to. I am grateful that I have some work to keep my mind working. I am grateful to belong to a gym where I can sweat and see the Fabio look-a-like sweating alongside me.

But the house is quiet. I turn the TV on just to provide some background noise. For as long as I have had a child, I wanted to be a stay at home mom. I wanted to be home with Michael. I was able to work it out with my ex-job to work different hours so that I could be home on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. So I got to be a part-time stay at home mom with full time job responsibilities. I loved those days. Before fourth grade, my favorite place to be was the car pick-up line. I got there early, armed with my Diet Coke and my lastest read. When the bell rang, I would search the crowd of elementary school students for my Michael. I could pick out his face pretty quickly. Like I was drawn to him. Then with fourth grade, Michael walked home from school. I would wait on the front steps. I could hear him before I saw him usually. He liked to talk to himself. Make up stories. Sound effects.

I loved our afternoons together. Tuesdays for the library; Thursdays for Young Actors and the Atlanta Bread Company. And Fridays were my favorites. No rush to finish homework. No going anywhere. Sometimes we'd put on our pajamas and watch cartoons. And perhaps nap. Or we would watch YouTube. Or have a Friday night dance party. We usually ordered pizza. It was good.

And now I feel guilty. That I wasn't able to stay home when Michael was living. That I wasn't able to spend the other two afternoons with him. That I am able to stay home now to grieve and to mourn. To figure out what I am to do next.

And I just don't know where to begin...

Tuesday, September 08, 2009


I had a dream over the weekend and woke up smiling. I dreamt that I knew it was Michael's last day. And we had a pool. And we stayed outside swimming until the wee hours of the morning. Because we could. We had so much fun. And our neighbors were mad.

But we didn't care. Because we were together and laughing. In those last few moments together.

It was one of those dreams that felt real. That I wished was real. And despite my disappointment that it wasn't real, I could hear the echo of Michael's laugh in my mind.
My favorite sound in all the world.