The Nest

The nest is nearly empty again, and I feel about half empty. As I once said, "I'm glad to see them come, and I'm glad to see them go." This time, less glad, but not destroyed...Hannah and Eli are taking Cal to his summer camp job, the same camp they worked the last three years. This year they are not able to go, but Hannah's youngest sister will be there, along with a gaggle of Macombies, but Cal is most looking forward to meeting new people. The staff is an international smorgasbord and the kids are New York city natives.

I am pleased that Cal was offered a full time teaching position in the school he was permanent subbing this past semester. He found his apartment this week, just before leaving for the two months in New Jersey. It all worked out just great. I am glad I got to help in the process last Monday, since I had taken the day off work.

So here's the thing. Every once in awhile I get sucker punched. Like when Adam's W-4 and health insurance verification for 2016 came in the mail in 2017. I just wasn't expecting that. This week, I was unable to find any record that the oil in the Camry had been changed since 2015. I realized in some ways I have been in a fog since Adam died. When I think about it that way, it seemed just a short while ago that Cal was going off to ISU for the fall 2015 semester, and I got the oil changed for him. Then 2016 blindsided us, and certain things dropped off the radar.

Funny thing, after months of terrible internet service, multiple phone calls, and finding out our internet was disconnecting an average of 23 times a day, Frontier sent two servicemen to remedy this situation. The younger tech guy told us that our computer was so powerful, it was disrupting the modem. He moved it further from the modem, switched out the modem, and Pat said "practically drooled" over the game computer I set up last fall that was Adam's. I hadn't related that it was about the time the internet starting going wonky, but yeah, apparently, Adam's taste in computers was top notch. Only the best for Nukie!

Pat went on a golf outing today, and it was a "blessing in the sky," as Cal would say. All I have committed to is one thing today, getting that oil change. I have lots of little dis and dats I want to do, and it's fun to just putter by myself.

Option B

I started reading Sheryl Sandberg's Option B after listening to her podcast about grief. She lost her husband unexpectedly while raising two young children. The book is part bio, part research on resiliency. If you're not familiar, Sheryl is/was the COO of Facebook and wrote Lean In about women in the workplace.

Page 21 reveals a familiar tune:

       Just as the body has a physiological immune system, the brain has a psychological immune          system. When something goes wrong, we instinctively marshal defense mechanisms. We see 

            silver linings in clouds. We add sugar and water to lemons. We start clinging to cliches.

I remember early after Adam's death, comforting myself with thoughts of being lucky to have had him 27 years, that everyone was able to get there for the service, that the arrangements fell into place so easily, that he wasn't living at home, so I was spared the daily void of him being gone and horror of finding him. Like my sister said, we could just kind of pretend he was "working" when the holidays or family get togethers came around. Cliches, or at least grief memes kept me going, knowing that others had gone through this, and understood how it felt. 

I will add more as I work thought this book. I have a feeling it will be slow, because I can only handle so much heaviness at a time. 

5/29/17
As I was thinking more about the gratitude I had in wake of Adam's death, as strange as it sounds, I was comforted that he had not been killed by a drunk driver, in a terrorist attack, or a random murder, because that would be even more senseless and would have left me angry and possibly bitter. As tragic and devastating as suicide is, it was something Adam chose to do. However impaired he was, I understand it on some level and suspect he had wanted it for some time. A random death would be even more unfair in my mind.

I can thank Adam for making me acutely aware of my mortality so that I feel an urgency to make the most of the time I do have on earth. I have heeded advice not to make large changes in early grief, but sometimes this feels like I have simply returned to baseline, and complacency with the status quo. I can teeter back and forth on this tightrope,

Mother's Day

I had a wonderful Mother's Day, albeit, without Adam. It started with brunch with my parents and Pat. It was so sweet for my mom to cook our favorite, biscuits & gravy with hash browns. My parents are Rocks and help and support us in so many ways.

Eli wrote me a beautiful 3 page letter and spent part of the afternoon on the porch with us. Cal drove four hours, to surprise me with a few hours visit.

I see this everywhere, but may not have noticed it until it applied directly to me. I cannot emphasize enough how important it is. Out of all the grief quotes, advice, axioms and memes, this is the biggie. If mentioning Adam's name makes me cry, it's not because you reminded of something I'm trying to forget about. It is tears of joy (and some sadness) that you remember and have the courage to deal with emotions. I don't blame you if you don't. It's hard for me, too. But know that it means the world to me to hear others acknowledge my son's life and my role as his mother.

Thunderstruck

I cried myself to sleep last night. That hasn't happened in a long time. I miss that boy's skinny adult frame, and his firm toddler self, and everything in between. Still, still so hard to believe he is gone from this world. I pray for his safety and protection, his peace and freedom, and that he knows we love and miss him every single day. And if it is God's will, I pray that I will see him again.

I woke up (for the third time) to a loud crack of thunder. 

Easter Sunday

The church lot is filled and the outlying parking lots jammed for this holy day. Another holiday without Adam. He wouldn't necessarily come home on Easter, but now he can't. We will miss him. This is the first holiday I've hosted since his death. First time I felt like cooking the big meal and entertaining the family at our home. There will only be seven of us. Just Cal staying here, so no fights over shower time. It feels a little hollow, like the cheap chocolate bunnies we used gnaw on as kids. Ears first.

Cal has been home for a week and the four of us have been hanging out some. It still feels weird that it's just us now.

Adam's Antics

I went to the attic to find some old journals and notes to compile a list of "greatest Adam quotes of all time." Because he was the most brilliant child (top 3 anyway).

Here are a few gems:

1991:
Adam: Who gave this locket to you?
Mommie: Aunt Myrtle gave it to me.
Adam: I'm scared of Aunt Myrtle.
Mommie: Why?
Adam: Is she a turtle?
Mommie: hahaha
Adam: Don't laugh
Mommie: Okay

To Pat and me from Adam:
No hugging, no kissing, no putting your hands on each other.

Your Nukie is Patrick.  
[Nukie or Nuke was Pat's nickname for Adam- straight from Adam's favorite movie Bull Durham]

I'm not scared of bats cause I always have a gun.

I got a clam stuck in my mouth.

Guess what I did to my mommy when I was cranky? I pinched her!

Mommy, I love it when you pick me up from daycare when it's time to clean up.

I'm a little bit sad I don't have a ba-ba (10/16/91). 

Adam: I'm a little bit mad.
Me: Why?
Adam: Because that jerk drove in front of you.

Adam: I don't have any feelings.
Mom: Yes, you do. You have all kinds of feelings- when you're upset, mad, happy, jealous.
Adam: What's jealous?
Mom: When you want something someone else has. Like if I'm talking to Pat and you want me to talk to you. Then you're jealous.
Adam: Oh. I went to Thomas' birthday party and I wanted to take my toys. And my daddy said the other kids would be "jealous."

My Buddy

This little guy was my buddy from age 25-30 (my age). Here's a couple little memories from my cloudy mind. At the time Adam was born in Denver I was volunteering in a women's shelter for survivors of domestic abuse. The shelter was located in Commerce City, just north of Denver proper. I honestly hadn't spent time in a place that poor before.

Does this picture give you an idea? I can still remember the smell of that house.  Anyhow, I had been volunteering for some time, and was part of a new program where I was peer mentoring a woman after she left the shelter. I went to pick her up one weekend day to go to an event in downtown Denver (some type of craft show in a large convention center). She had a couple of girls, who sat in back with Adam in a rear facing car seat in the middle. I remember that drive as being excruciatingly long, because I was terrified that he had somehow smothered back there where I couldn't see him. That was probably one of my early panic attacks, but then again I was probably just a nervous new momma, and he was fine.

The year after we moved to Buffalo, Adam was two, and his dad decided to pursue a relationship with another woman and moved out. Our initial arrangement was that Bill picked Adam up Thursday after daycare (I had to work late one night a week) and brought him back Saturday afternoon. I'm sure they had some sweet adventures. One of my traditions with Adam was to eat brunch Sunday morning at a restaurant where my friend Mary Lou waitressed on the weekends. When it was nice we could eat outside. The restaurant was called Jimmy Mac's, and I always had one or two Mimosa's (I know). Then we would go wander around a local flea market in this really cool building on Main Street (they used to make cars here):

He was the best company. Very bright, inquisitive and up for anything. It was special to have that one on one time with my best boy. God, I miss this guy.

My Day

I'm taking a new tack. I dunno why. My day started around 3:00 a.m. I tossed and turned about an hour before getting up and making coffee. I putzed around balancing my checkbook, doing laundry, and junk like that. I got ready for spin class and joined Karen and the boys, Big Lar, Jeff, and Drake at 5:30 a.m. I felt more energetic than Wednesday, which is good. I barely survived that class. I came home and joined Pat for more coffee, showered and went back to the Y to sign up for classes that start again next week.

Time to go get my driver's license renewed. I thought I would check on the title to my new used car. I was informed that the title was assigned to my bank (in another town) due to having a lien on it. I told him there wasn't a lien on it, and of course that was not his problem. Next I checked with my bank, and Leslie was kind enough to investigate this problem for me, and no, there is no lien, and no, they didn't have the title. She even called the dealership who submitted the paperwork and after a some pretty ludicrous exchanges, like, "She didn't buy a car here," it was agreed how they would fix it.

I stopped by a local church who is sponsoring a suicide prevention education program and helped the secretary work up a flyer from a template. My computer wizardry skills are pretty damn amazing. Then I tanned for six minutes followed by grocery shopping, and toasting a leftover peanut butter sandwich in the toaster. I don't think the peanut butter even ruined it. I then napped for about half an hour and proceeded to the most exciting part of my day.

With the assistance of a travel agent (that was a joke about my computer skills) I booked my July flights to Malta. I will be meeting Betsy and Ethan in Chicago and we are flying to Malta together via Frankfurt. I will travel home alone. You see, Betsy's friend is the Ambassador to Malta and so this once in a lifetime opportunity is too good to pass up.

I then volunteered at the food pantry behind my house, and it was a slow day, allowing me to catch up with an old acquaintance who was teamed up with me for the day. That was pretty cool. I threw some dinner in the crockpot and left out for Happy Hour, Gentle Flow Yoga class on the square. Julie C was filling in for Julie M and we stretched some new muscles. It was so very nice. After Shivasana, we had hot tea, which is such a lovely ritual.

As I was cleaning up after dinner, I realized my only opportunities to see what could possibly be my dad's last play was tonight or next Friday. I figured I better go tonight. His part was an off stage voice on the intercom. Upon leaving the theater, snowflakes were blowing in with a strong wind. Crazy, I mean how could that be? Mother nature, or Father global warming, had us in late spring the last week or so, and I have the allergies to prove it!

I was strongly considering getting a doughnut after the show, but settled for a peach Greek yogurt at home, and twiddling my fingers over the computer keys again. I just noticed what a ubiquitous part of life computers are. So that is what I did with my day off. Do you see why I need a three day weekend every week?

One of those days

You should be here. Everything is swirling around. The pain is less acute, but the weight heavier.

I will keep swimming, for you, Adam.

Sandcastle

While in Florida, I built a sandcastle for Adam. It wasn't much, nothing like the effort he put into his sandcastles. I just wanted to do something for him. I drew his name and the year in the sand. The next day I walked down to the area, and found some remains.

I was pleased that some of it was still there and I took this picture. You can almost see the 2 in the lower right corner.

I left his name on a giant chalkboard outside the movie theater. The next day when we went back, the whole board was erased and new chalkings were drawn. A little like life, nothing is permanent.

The Second Year

And so begins the second year without Adam. The year 2017 that he was never alive in. The feelings come flooding back at any time. Just now, reading an article about hospice.

On our trip to Florida, so many things reminded me of Adam: I-Hop, vaping, Men's Wearhouse, Sonic, Impalas, Chattanooga, Asian restaurants, tea, sandcastles, H & M, Barnes and Noble. These reminders give me pangs of nervousness and a sick feeling in my stomach. Knowing it's real.

The Signature of All Things

Unlike most women of a certain age, I have not read Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I did pick up this novel with a funny name by her, and would not have believed reading the first 100 pages how much I would come to love it.

Mixing up botanical exploration and study, 18th and 19 century shipping, a love (?) story, Tahitian religious history, mental health and abolition into a cohesive novel is no small feat. Gilbert somehow manages it. Alma Whittaker, the main character, is the daughter of a wealthy botanical shipping magnate, and a naturalist herself. A bryologist, to be exact. An expert in the study of mosses. How captivating, you say?

What I admire most about Elizabeth Gilbert and this epic 500 page tome, is her exquisite research detail, ability to keep the language and tone true to the time period, and the oftentimes hilarious, and all together quirky characters and dialogue. There is Retta Snow, the pinheaded and carefree neighbor and Ambrose Pike, the angelic, enigmatic hero, both of whom speak in the most original voice I probably ever heard in a book.

On page 229 we find out the meaning the strange title. It comes from the writings of a 17 century German cobbler who had mystical visions about plants. Jacob Boehme believed that God left clues for humanity in the natural world. That's why walnuts, shaped like brains, are helpful for headaches, and basil, shaped like the liver, can help with ailments of the liver. He called God's imprint "the signature of all things."

Alma develops a theory of the natural world simultaneously with one of the greatest scientists of all time, but hesitates to publish her results, which she calls "The Theory of Competitive Alteration." When the ultimate theory is actually published (we know it by another name) by someone else, she is at peace with it.

And here is the tie-in to Adam. Spoiler Alert. Ambrose Pike ends his life in Tahiti, for reasons unknown, however, Alma many years later comes to peace with it, too, in this way:

            Ambrose believed in such things [there is a supreme intelligence in the universe
            which wishes for communion with us...it wants us to find it. It wants union with
            us more than anything]. He longed for that union you mention, with the supreme
            intelligence. He died searching for that union.

And so the novel ends with a thoughtful debate about the greatest spiritual question of all time. What a satisfying ending to a magnificent story.

This Girl

I have to tell you about this girl, but I should say woman. She's a great mom. She's a stellar human being. She's been a great support to me.

Tara came forward via Facebook messenger shortly after Adam died (2/3/16 to be exact) to tell me how much Adam meant to her and how devastated she was. You see, she had previously experienced a huge loss to suicide.

Tara's path first crossed Adam's in third grade, Mr. Dunham's class, Adam's first year in Macomb. I don't know the nature of their grade school relationship, but she kept appearing in his class pictures over the ensuing years. They were both of small stature, tiny really.

Through high school I heard from a couple of people that Adam had a crush on Tara, but probably never pursued his feelings. In college at Spoon River, they started hanging out more, and I saw her at our house once. That's once more than any other girl Adam was associated with. I remember when she was cashiering at the local grocery store one day, and I made small talk with her. I was always way curious about any friend of Adam's, since he did not really bring friends home or even  talk about his friends much to us after elementary school. I think I tried to pick her brain a little about who my son was. I remember she was getting ready to go to an internship in Texas.

Fast forward to February 2016. In those early, foggy days, Adam's roommate Tim told me he wanted Tara from Macomb to know about Adam and couldn't find her on Facebook. I hadn't a clue that Adam's Springfield friends crossed over with his Macombie homies. Tara later told me she visited Adam in Springfield a few times when Adam was in college, but they lost touch years ago.

Tara has shared her impressions of Adam with me, filling in some blanks and helping me know he had a good heart that others could see. She has shared the signs from Adam she has received and her dreams where he has brought her comfort. She understands what it's like to lose a close family member to the terrible disease of suicide. She is there for me in a way that is totally unique. I can totally see why she was special to Adam.

December 26, 2015

I have been thinking about and dreading this day for quite some time. Today marks one entire year since I last saw with my own eyes, hugged with my own arms, and heard with my own ears his voice. We had some electronic communication in the following month, nothing big, nothing amiss. It was a cold, cold January. It was a colder February, at least in my heart.

Those days with Adam from Wednesday evening through late Saturday morning last December are vague. I have scoured, as a detective would work a case, for clues, snippets, writings, memos, calendar notations, pictures, anything to tell me what was going on for Adam to end his life a mere month later. If I am honest, it feels like a ghost was walking through that last visit. Betsy noted on Christmas Eve last year, Adam laid on the floor, but did participate in the Mafia games we played with the whole family. I noted in my Christmas Memories, he declared the Potato Soup, the best ever. He went to Concussion on Christmas Day with all the boys. He had a faraway, thin, haunted look in the family pictures.

Late on the morning of 26 December, we all headed out our separate ways: Cal to Guatemala via Chicago, Pat and I to the Quad Cities, Eli I'm not really sure about, Adam to Springfield. One unmemorable moment, one quick hug, one good-bye frozen in time.

And so we soldier on, many of us bearing our grief in silence, or alone-ness. Not on purpose, it just happens.

Some advice to the grieving I read in a book, which does seem to occur naturally: reconnect with life, honor the life of your loved one and create meaning.

Our family has not broken; we returned to work, friends, life, each other. We laugh, cry, and talk a little deeper. I write more letters, journals, and blogs.

In September, I participated in planting a tree, partly in Adam's honor. Many of us contributed to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention in his name. My parents donated for a memorial decorated tree in their front yard for the Christmas season for their "beloved grandson Adam Nicholas Tuttle." We filled a stocking for Adam and dropped it at the men's homeless shelter on Christmas Eve, and later wrote notes to or about Adam and put them in his stocking to read next year. We speak his name as often as we can.

Life has taken on new meaning. We take less for granted and consider more what lies behind the exterior shell people present to the world. I think we are all re-evaluating our lives and how we can best contribute to making the world a better place, and fill our lives with more joy. We were able to establish a successful Out of the Darkness Walk to bring suicide out in the open, and connect with others who have experienced this anguish. We are honest and real about our feelings, we appreciate those who have come forward and shared with us what Adam meant to them, and everyone who supports us in so many ways. We can't always be happy but Adam has taught us to live each day to the fullest, to focus on what's important, and always, always love with all our hearts.

Winter

Yes, it is winter. This is the season Adam died in. I'll be blunt; it's a trigger, along with many other things. Little did we know Christmas 2015 would be our last with Adam.

Life keeps moving. Eli was delighted to get called for two days of weather related closings at his school. Pat is off work for two weeks. We were blessed to have Hannah, Eli and Cal over for dinner last night. Then Cal had high school friends over. They seemed to be having a ball.

Titles

Some titles from books I collected from Adam's room:

The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching by Thich Nhat Hanh

Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind by Shunryu Suzuki

The Intellectual Devotional by David Kidder and Noah Oppenheim

Little Ways to Keep Calm and Carry On by Mark Reinecke

I hope that Adam's spiritual journey continues and that it includes seeing each other again.

As I was decorating for Christmas I found Adam's stocking, the one Grandma Tuttle gave him when he was little. It was a little odd because it hung the opposite way of the other stockings and it holds way more stuff. I had been tossing around the idea for some time that this year we could each put something in the stocking and then give it to someone who might need a boost at the holidays.

I decided to put on REM's Everybody Hurts while I actually hung the stockings just now. I hadn't really thought of it as a decision, whether to put up his stocking or not, take his ashes and portrait off the mantle where they have been for nearly 10 months. It feels right to have him with us. I didn't decorate much else.

Here's what I came up with:

I think it needs some greenery and/or light. I'll work on that.

Messages

Adam is heavy on my mind and my heart, of course. How could he not be? I got up at 5:00 and was in the grocery store this Thanksgiving morning before 7:00 a.m. As I was entering the final turn (frozen foods), the song Africa by Toto came on overhead. If you are a close follower, you know what that song now means to me. I was pissed when "Jimmy" interrupted the song to make a Hy-vee commercial announcement, as it interrupted my flow. But the song came back on and it gave me great comfort to feel Adam was near.

It hadn't really hit me until last night at 5:04 p.m. pulling into my driveway. "Adam should be coming home tonight."  I could dismiss Mother's Day, his birthday, etc. but Thanksgiving is a definite. I walked into the house in tears and was amazed to find Pat, Eli and Calvin all sitting together in the living room discussing Marcel Dareus' Snapchat hack. Very interesting that when I set up Adam's computer, I found he had a bit of an obsession with the Bills' nose tackle; pictures and files he saved of this guy. And there wasn't that much saved on this new-ish computer. So, could Adam have messed with his computer as a joke and a message? We quietly acknowledged his absence (and his presence) as a family.

Last year Adam brought Bella home for Thanksgiving. His whole demeanor was changed. He was quiet, and attentive to her. I think Betsy asked her at dinner if she had a boyfriend back in Korea? She said no, so I 'slyly' asked if she had a boyfriend here, and she smiled and said "no." We know by several indicators that Adam wished to continue a relationship with her after she returned to Korea late last fall.

 The family Christmas card shoot 2015

 Before or after the pics

 Bella, Adam, Moi, Cal

 Pat, Bella, Adam, sparkling juice

 Bella, Adam, Cal, Ethan, Chuck

Last year Thanksgiving I was giving thanks each night for God keeping my children healthy and safe.

I am still saying that prayer, but it feels different now. Today will mark the first of our Thanksgivings without Adam in the flesh. He will be forever felt in our hearts and our souls. Rest easy, best boy. We got you. 

Faces

I have been struggling (overused word #1) with moods, thoughts, and direction as the holidays approach, the days are darker and colder, and the reality continues to sink in. Adam's death has made me question everything about life, not all the time, and realize there are so many sides to people we will never know.

2016 was an astonishingly bad year, for me and my community. The worst in fact. You might not know that if you see me going about life, smiling, occasionally laughing, keeping busy. It's not an intentional front I put up. There are happy times and there is good in the world. The individuals who killed themselves this year, they didn't "look" different. They may have felt they were 'faking' it. Some of the suicide books say it results from a "perfect storm" of factors coming together to overwhelm a person. Those would be different for each person, but could include drug or alcohol use, depression, triggering event, stoic nature, time and means. The list is endless.

Ask me the right (or wrong depending on how you look at it) question, and I will cry on the spot. Hear a particular song, and it will trigger (overused word #2) a stream of tears. See me in bed at night; my pillow is damp, my eyes crusty in the morning (but not every night anymore).

Just know that we are all doing our best, and we will never know all that is behind each face we meet everyday. Be kind, stay positive, give hope when you can. Someone may need it.

*I received condolences yesterday from two people I used to work with, one in the form of a card, the other a face to face conversation. I know those are the hardest for people because everyone wants to cry when you speak to someone about losing a child. It's okay. And more than that, it is so appreciated.

College Days (Daze?)

As my Little Sister Marissa said, "Cubs won the World Serious." Sweet Kelsey found a batch more pictures from their UIS days, and this was among them. Bills hat, Cubs shirt. Wish Adam was here to break down this W.  

I'm posting this pic, because Kelsey looks so cute (not that she doesn't always):

Obviously, this is not flattering of Adam...however, every picture I treasure, because I can analyze and try to learn more about him.  Look at the guys at the top of the first picture, placing another liquor bottle on the cupboard. Most of these pictures from UIS are taken at the on-campus apartments that Adam lived in for two years. I remember moving him in the first year. Pretty sure the second year, he just drove down and moved himself in.

He should be here.

Him

things that kill me

• seeing his handwriting
• pictures where he is wearing a shirt I gave him (Mackinac Island, Skagway)
• pictures of him having fun
• only having pictures
• his laugh
• songs
• that he won't be coming through the door on Thanksgiving
• pretty soon I will not be able to say, "I saw him last year at this time"