Dad

 Tonight I was reading an article in The Atlantic about the poet Adrienne Rich. I so wanted to ask my dad what he thought of her and her poetry. You see, my dad could converse on practically any topic, but of course his specialty was English literature and the history of language. He always feared losing his mind, but he never did. We all tired of his diatribes about certain topics, and his penchant for Minneapolis (repeating the same stories over and over), but damn, I know if I brought up Ms. Rich, he would have something to say. She seemed to intersect poetry and social issues, and would have been roughly contemporary to my dad, so I really am curious what he knew and thought of her. It would be nice to have just one more conversation with him. 

Barring that, my husband made a point today about our son Eli inheriting the mind of my dad. That's a true compliment, because at his best, my dad was sharp and witty and indubitably brilliant. Eli has a gift of sacrosanct memory, that ease of synthesizing information, and a quest for knowledge my dad was famous for. And also, just as important, a humility that is absolutely genuine.  

Olympus Camera

 I was getting my old digital camera ready to give away and thought I would check to see if there were any pictures I might need on it. This one nearly sucked the wind out of me:

Here we have all the Vick grandchildren sitting on the couch on Christmas Day 2015. Adam looks so unwell. He must be less than 120 pounds on a 5'7" frame. How did I not notice? Why did I not do something different? 

Ethan is tickling Adam's head with one of those pronged scalp massagers. He looks thrilled, doesn't he? They are just sitting there unaware of the hell he was probably going through. We all were. Five weeks later he was gone. 

This has me in a funk, but that's okay. I need to remember the nights I cried myself to sleep every night. I had a dream this week where I was arguing with Adam. I didn't like it.  

                                       

Here we have Hannah tickling Ethan with Christmas presents and junk spread out on the coffee table. Adam is snarling, which he was doing in several other pictures over that holiday break.

I just finished a mother's memoir of suicide loss, I'll Write His Name on Every Beach. I will, too, Adam, I will, too. 

Whine About 2020

 I know this sounds like whining, and it is. I am grateful for the blessings of 2020 like being employed, and having a place to go outside my house. And not having to juggle kids and work and online learning. I truly don't know how I would have managed. 

But I did miss three biggies this year. The first was a workshop in April that would have made me a better therapist. That the location was somewhere I have long wanted to go (Sedona, AZ) was the icing on the cake. Well, COVID took that cake and shoved it down my throat. That conference will never be funded again for me to attend. I used some of my out of pocket flight credit, but still have $400 hanging out there to be used or refunded. Neither seem very likely. 

Next up Australia. Yes, I had tickets for Australia with my son to visit my niece in Melbourne and see whatever I could see there. Australia has stricter travel restrictions than many countries so of course a trip in June was off the table. My son got a refund, but I am still waiting to see what happened to my $1700, which I could kind of use...

The final disappointment came in July. I was invited to attend a national conference for survivors of suicide as a thank you for the volunteer work I have done for the AFSP. The exciting and exotic locale for this cancelled event was, wait for it, CLEVELAND. Yes, I missed out on a trip to Cleveland. Home of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which I have already been to. However, I believe I would have enjoyed and learned a great deal from meeting other SOS from across the country. 

So there you have it. I am a big complainer. Now that I have cleared that off my chest, I feel lighter and more grateful than ever. 2020 has had some sweet moments and here are a few:

THANKSgiving weekend 2020 at the labyrinth

Springfield Out of the Darkness October17, 2020

Ashleigh, Michael, Brent, Kelsey

Kallie, me, Jon, Zach,Sam

Wakullah Springs, FL outside Tallahassee, January 2020

Can you believe I've been to Florida three times in 2020?

Crazy!!

Ave Atque Vale

 

I think this poem is so beautiful, and even more so when I learned after my father's death, that this was what he thought of when Adam died. So he spelled "atque" wrong. His mind was truly sharp for remembering so many details especially about literature, etymology, and poems, poems, poems.

My Baby Boy

 

Here is #3. I love him with all my heart, too. So proud of him for making a big move on his own to pursue a new life in sunny Florida. He is teaching middle school math in a low income urban school, something that has been his dream for a long time. There are no sports to coach at this time, so he can put his all into teaching and his new students. 

My Special Boy

 Lest you think I play favorites, here is my #2, my special boy, Eli. He has been so many things, but most of all, our easy going, horn playing, kind Eli. This is him playing a doctoral recital at Florida State University. So proud of his accomplishments and the person he is. 

Ya Boi!!

My Best Boy

 This picture just does something to me. Here is Adam with that look on his face I haven't seen for almost five years. It's that vulnerable, lovable, I don't want to have my picture taken look. He had plenty of cocky moments, but this just tells me who he really was. Go ahead, click and see if you don't get a lump in your throat, or eye stinging tears or a pit in your stomach. 

The food displayed is something on the adventurous side, I'm sure. Surprising for the little boy who would eat barely anything. I think he took pride as he got older in trying new things. I remember when he ordered the snake/turtle/god knows what plate at that restaurant downtown. 

All those letters I typed up. It's time to thin out my belongings, but I couldn't throw them away without archiving them here, for when I need them, taking up no physical space. 

I just wanted to take a minute to say Hi, and yes, I'm still thinking about ya. 

Last of the Letters for Now. Stayed tuned for my Novel, har har

 11-26-89

Adam's appetite did pick up last night temporarily. He ate soup and lots of graham crackers. Today all he ate was oatmeal and Kix. It is really frustrating and emotionally draining as it is so worrisome. He was really fussy-cranky. 

Hopefully we will have a picture of Adam for Christmas cards. They took his photo at daycare a couple of weeks ago. No idea how they turned out.

I'm exhausted from sleeping so much this weekend. The night Chris arrived we stayed up until about 2:30. The next 3 nights we went to bed at 9 pm. The restaurant where we had Thanksgiving at was real nice-Ramada Inn. I specially enjoyed whipped badadas. There were some people there who got to know Adam cuz he was running all over. They go, "Here comes Adam." Chris says I have a Buffalo accent. 

Dear Family

 From Buffalo

7-24-89

Adam likes our next door neighbor, Fred, a big black Bow-Wow. I had Bill bring the TV down last night. Adam watched Jim Henson hour and kept saying "Coo-Coo" or Cookie Monster when Oscar came on. 

8-something-89

We went to a party at the house of Bill's department chair. They had an in-ground pool that Adam put his feet in. I'm pretty convinced that his beastliness at Artpark was caused by his toes being curled under in the Reeboks, cause at this party he became beastly for no apparent reason, so I tried taking his shoes off and there were lots of wrinkles and redness around his toes. 

I sort of got hooked on those Orange Milano cookies, Lou. They're really good once they're in your mouth. Adam really likes them, too. He was smearing chocolate on both our faces earlier this evening. Then he led me out of the cookie room into another, then he snuck back and went straight for the cookies. He calls  Mickey Mouse, dinosaurs and Big Bird all "Coo-Coo." 

A grad student from DU got a teaching job at University of North Dakota. I told Bill that would be a good place for us to settle, so we could spend summers at the Farm. But we decided Adam would be too radical/cool for the kids there. 

9-16-89

Adam is getting quite grown up. He is now going to daycare two days a week, and seems to be doing okay. He cries when we leave and cries when we pick him up, but have been told by the teachers, he does stop in between. His vocabulary is growing, to include dada, mama, gaga (grandpa), baba (baby), bowbow (bow wow), biggee (miss piggy), coocoo (cookie monster), baba (bottle). As parents we know the subtle differences between bottle, baby, and bow wow, but I doubt others would distinguish so easily. He is really an amazing little challenge. We got him some adorable red canvas sneakers, which remind me of myself with Grandma Topp at the Farm wearing the same red sneakers, at about Adam's age.

9-17-89

We had a really nice time last night. Adam was a very good boy for the babysitter* and she seemed to really enjoy him. 

*I wonder if this was my friend Gretchen, before we really became friends? I do remember her babysitting a time or two.

9-24-89

Adam helped me design some stationary for this week's letter. Pretty nifty, huh?* Hey, he's got 1 1/2 new teeth, maybe the cause of all the night waking and lingering cold symptoms. Also, he has a new thing called the "Zyzzy shuffle." After Icky Woods got injured, he took over with a shuffling dance step that is very funny to watch. Sometimes he does it to music, sometimes not. 

*paper covered with crayon scribbles

I bought a mock red turtleneck today on a shopping fiasco with Adam. We went to that bookstore with all the cards and gifts, Lou, and he totally took command, with two jingly pencils in his hands, he was off on a rampage, and I could not control him. 

Lou, I've been using that pretty framed picture of you to teach him "Ru Ru" but haven't had much success yet. He says "truck" spontaneously and barks instead of saying "bowbow" sometimes. 

10-8-89

We went to a birthday party for 3 year old Isaac, whose dad is a 5th year English grad student. Adam played by himself and with Rosalie, daughter of two English grad students, and in Adam's daycare, but on opposite days. She's 1 1/2 months older, same size but very dark hair and white skin. She's cute in a deprived, pixie-ish way. She and Adam were shoveling popcorn into their mouths; Adam feeding Rose, too. 

Then some of the older kids were opening Isaac's gifts for him and back in a corner was Rose opening the gift Adam brought. It was chaos. Barbara Bono, professor of English and mother of two year old John who goes to daycare also, says to Rose's dad, "That daughter of yours is a bold piece!" in an English accent. 

Betsy, Adam called you "Ga ga" today. I'm sorry. 

10-20-89

Here are a few Adam anecdotes. We took him to McDonalds and he really enjoyed dipping his fries into ketchup and sucking it off. Actually, he mostly used one fry and it got really soggy. Then we played in the indoors playground and Adam was able to do a big slide (curvy) all by himself (we spotted him of course). But he loved it so much saying, "Wheee."

We say "one" Adam says "two three" really clearly. This is a very good trick. 

Lately Adam is very attached to the cotton blanket I crocheted for him. He's fussy about 7:30-8pm until we go get or he leads us into the room to get blankie. Then he sometimes falls asleep beside me on the couch, so precious. 

He seems to know the difference between a bus and a truck. He even said "Bu" when he saw a picture of the Metro Rail downtown. When we come home and pick him up or get him at daycare, he immediately waves Bye Bye to the babysitters. 

Letters to my Family

 I have been going through volumes of old letters, pictures and memorabilia of my own, my parents, my kids. I am sharing the following entries taken from letters I wrote to family in the year or two after Adam's birth. I am sharing it because he is not here to give this to; he won't be able to read of the funny things he did and the way he was loved from the beginning. It might be painful, but for me necessary, and carthartic.

Adam Nicholas born June 11, 1988, the first grandchild on both sides 

9-11-88

Hi-

Zyzzy (nickname for Adam from a character on Pee Wee's Playhouse) and I are listening to Brahms and Junk. He is making sounds along with it, especially yelps where he sucks in air and makes a sound. He is beary cute, as you know. Today is Adam's 3 month birthday. Bill and I argue about whether he's supposed to be doing 3 or 4 month old things. I say this will be his third month, and Bill says he's in his fourth month. 

10-5-88

No pictures of Adam lately. Zyzzy is doing well. He misses you. He is fussy now so I must go. Love, Susie

10-26-88

The Tuttles were quite taken with Zyzzy, though he did his share of wailing.

11-5-88

Did I tell you we gave Adam rice cereal twice this week? He's had some trouble waking up in the middle of the night, so we tried that. It didn't work the first time, so maybe tonight. He did seem to enjoy eating, though very messy and time consuming. I'm not sure I'm ready for this step.

Betsy, did I tell you how much I think Adam looks like you, from my feeding view of him, especially the nose and mouth? It is so cute. I remember you being much younger, with that wonderful creamy pink skin. 

11-6-88

I had a bunch of pictures to send to a bunch of different people of our beautiful son that I wanted to show off, but decided I wasn't in the mood to write 10 different letters. So this will be a GENERIC letter. I guess that means I have to talk about all the exciting news.

Well, obviously Adam is the most exciting element in our lives. He is growing fast ie. for all you who are not parents, outgrowing his clothes. He is really a happy little child, especially when we have the time to hold him every moment. We are subtly working on getting him to play independently for longer periods of time, although I'm not sure the neighbors think it's so subtle when they hear him wailing for attention. He is long past the days of sleeping all the time.

The other night I was holding Adam on my lap while we were eating dinner, when Bill sneezed. Little Adam threw back his head and laughed out loud. As we continued to fake sneeze, he just thought it was hilarious, laughing louder and longer. Of course, we were in hysterics laughing at him, and it went on and on. Bill went and got his new tape recorder and began taping, which will be a treasured moment forever. I said at the time, he probably won't do this again for awhile and sure enough, he no longer thinks fake sneezing is quite so funny. He is really testing out his vocal chords with different kinds of yelping, babbling, gurgling, cooing and all those other wonderful sounds a baby makes. 

Another milestone occurred last night as Bill and I left Adam with a friend of mine to have dinner and a movie. As we were putting on our jackets and saying bye-bye, he looked over and recognized that we were leaving and began crying. That was the first time he seemed aware that he was being left with a stranger. 

Everyone seems to comment on Adam's big blue eyes. If you haven't seen him yet in person, and rely on our pictures, you are probably thinking, "Blue eyes? I thought he had red eyes." 

If this sappy letter doesn't gag you, please write back and let us know how you all are. We miss getting regular weekly mail as we did when the Vicks were in China. And believe it or not, I kind of miss having to write at least one letter every Sunday.

Thank you for your love and support. I will end with this original quote by me:

CHILDBIRTH----IT IS WORTH IT!!

Love, Susan                                                                  Bill                                        Adam

90 A-

(Bill thought this was a student assignment

and accidentally graded it. I gave his letter

an F (for failing to complete assignment).

Hoarding

 I think I've written several blogs on the topic of hoarding, but here's a different take. This morning at 3 a.m., sleepless again, I was going through my basket of cards on the mantle, trying to get rid of some clutter. Some date back to last fall. In among them, I found this gem (among many other touching, thoughtful cards and notes):

February 2020

I'll always be here for you,

Pinky Promise.

Missing Adam, wanting him to walk through the door, loving Adam, will always be a part of my life. And for as long as I live, I promise, he will be in my heart.

You are dearly loved, Susan, by so many, and though the expression may not always be clear, it is there, just as Adam is with us still. Believe in the unseen, try to trust even if you don't feel, you are loved. When you need to hear that message and know it in your heart, call me, and I will remind you that I love you and I truly am here for you-just for you-in your glory and your heartbreak-when you need me. I will always share our umbrella, to shade us from the sun and protect us from the rain.

I love you, 

Your lil sis

This past weekend my lil sis and I spent the weekend in Springfield at the Out of the Darkness Experience. A little different this year because of the pandemic, Adam's closest friends from college showed up and helped us celebrate and honor his life. It's hard not to imagine him being there, just one of the gang talking, playing pool, and sharing a meal. Simple things he's not here to enjoy. 

Autumn Falls

 Fall is not my favorite, but that moon last night...

I have a hard time when losing sunlight and can feel the blahs coming on. But I can't deny there are some really cool things happening-one being the weather. No need for A/C or heat. Just perfection around here. Crunchy leaves, hedge apples and acorns, even when I slip occasionally while walking. And what about those caramel apples? Must have nuts. 

Bonfires and S'mores.  A lot of traditions are cancelled because of the pandemic. Even Trick or Treating?!

School

 This morning I walked my old route to Lincoln School where I attended for 7 years. My kids went there, too, after it became an "attendance center" for K-3rd grade. Adam walked there for one year, and Eli and Cal for 4 years. 

It got me thinking about how things change and some things stay the same. Along my walk I saw school buses coming down our street after dropping off the kids. I was glad to see that because last week school was closed for one day due to a shooting in Macomb. So, I felt at peace that nothing horrible happened today. I'm sorry I have these thoughts in today's world. 

Nearer the school, I saw parents walking there kids up to school with masks on. Yes, this is the new normal. Other than masks, it was sweet to see the little ones holding hands with their moms and dads, and entering school, albeit, they only attend in person two days per week.

Back in my day, Kindergarten was the first time most kids had a social group experience. Now many kids go to daycare and pre-school. School teaches us society's norms and how to get along with others, even bullies and Eddie Haskells. I guess that dates me, too. 

I wasn't a target in school, I kept pretty quiet and obedient, so when I did get corrected or chastised by a teacher, I was crushed. Mean kids left me alone, too. I was lucky. Today there are so many ways to be cruel, and you can do it behind a computer screen. 

I hope the kids are safe, learning and becoming good citizens. They have a different experience than I did, but it's their experience. Bless them and everyone muddling through this pandemic. 

Pretty

 

This spoke to me this morning. And then Blogger is being really annoying and changed everything up. I can't even stop the underlining. I'm going to go to a piece of paper and pencil. 

Short Memory

My son gave me some good advice over this last little time together. I was stewing and rehashing an event that happened. Shoulda, coulda, woulda, yadda, yadda. He said the best advice he ever got from, I believe it was Robbie, his supervising teacher during student teaching, was to have a short memory. He gave the example of having a short memory about losing our trip to Australia; money spent or wasted is not going to get him down.

At first I balked, and argued, I must remember this, I must learn from this. I don't want to forget this and make the same mistake again. I must figure this out. I must do better.

Then I stopped and realized, there's nothing I can do right now, and I do need to stop overthinking this. The little phrase "short memory" has since come back to me several times and is just the quick reminder I need to move on and not let things eat me up.

Thanks Cal, you're a wise young man. And I'm glad I found your headphones, as I know you were struggling to have a short memory on that one.

Words of Affirmation

My love language is Words of Affirmation, so that is the one I tend to give to others first. During my meditation today, I thought I would like to affirm the special people in my life.

Shout out to my kids, whom I couldn't be more proud of. Cal is inquisitive, deep, connected, and thoughtful. Eli is silly, creative, bright, and accepting. Hannah is loving, intelligent, soulful, and social. Adam is a straight shooter, brilliant, lively, and haunting.

Pat, who has been by my side 29 years and counting, no matter what, is reliable, funny-goofy, hard-working, and wholesome.

What the heck, I'm going to just do up the whole family.

Ethan is talented, heart-driven, sensitive, and gentle. Betsy is kind, hilarious, tenacious, and emotional. Chuck is family-oriented, helpful, knowledgeable, and charitable.

Michael is smart, athletic, funny, and adroit. Megan is adventurous, special, persistent, and joyful. Laura is artistic, committed, lovely, and caring. Chris is jocular, devoted, ethical, and steadfast.
Donna is nurturing, busy, spiritual, and adaptable.

Mom is clever, giving, assertive, and authentic. Dad is sharp-witted, tender-hearted, poetic, and brave.

It's just like the empty nest all over again. Cal is headed back to Florida to prepare for his new teaching job and soak up the last bits of summer. Hannah and Eli are continuing on their journey to visit her side of the family.

We had a bustling two weeks of camp fires, homemade ice cream, birthday celebrations, games, getting the pontoon stuck on a mud bank, musical performances, swimming in a borrowed pool, visiting, and food, lots of food.

I didn't think I was going to feel this let down this time, but I do. So many fun and exciting things happened over the past two weeks, I should be filled with gratitude and contentment. I'll get there. I'm going to honor this moment, this time of feeling blue and empty. It could also be the beans, which emptied me of my entire digestive tract in a most inconvenient manner.

On another note, I started reading my dad's journals, the seven or so assigned to me. Equal amounts assigned to my siblings. I have to say, they are pretty boring. If I am boring you like this, please stop reading or tell me. Maybe I am the only person who thinks I am interesting...

Corona+

I remember in March when I heard the first murmurings of "quarantine." Some local students returned early from Denmark and had to self-quarantine at home for two weeks. That sounded absolutely impossible. By March 21, the entire state of Illinois was ordered to stay at home for two weeks and schools were closed, a biggie.

It was confusing at first, but I showed up for work Monday unclear what Stay At Home really meant. Deemed an 'essential worker' in mental health, we continued to work, and I was grateful I wouldn't find out what it meant to really stay home for any amount of weeks. I like my structure and routine. We got set up to meet most of our customers at home through tele-health. 

Then we had a nice surprise, our kids came home since public school teachers and grad students were sent home. It was nice to hang out an extra time since we had just seen each other in February for Dad's memorial service. 

Two weeks of quarantine turned into all of April, then unbelievably all of May. Watching the virus numbers climb, and the death toll rise. 

Now it is July, and where the H did time go? I feel like this was the quickest 6 months of my life. Now we are together again (my family of origin plus my kids). Florida folks are here but they have tested negative for Covid. They are writing and playing music and hanging out. Aside from masks in public, everything feels pretty normal. Let's hope we all stay healthy. 

BLM

I haven't blogged in F-O-R-E-V-E-R, but don't think I haven't been thinking, feeling and doing. Since my last post, the world has erupted over the murder of George Floyd. That police officer's face, knowing he was being filmed and killing that man, and those sworn to protect not stopping him. This has really set off my brain and emotions. I have noticed one thing, I am about stories. I think stories are the most powerful way to teach and understand. George Floyd's story has changed the course of history.

I've been educating myself through podcasts, listening and reading about Black experience, forcing myself to watch the news. At times I fear a civil war is brewing, and other times I'm filled with hope because I see more people speaking up for what is right. It's not enough to say, "I treat everyone the same." Even if you mean it, which is clearly debatable.

Systems are stacked against minorities, and opportunities are not equal. I have NEVER been stopped for walking in the street and asked for ID. I would never dream I need an ID to walk down the street. My car has never been searched during a routine traffic stop. I usually get a warning when I do something wrong, not a pat down. I have never been harmed by a Black man the way I have been by White men.

In answer to why we don't say "All Lives Matter" I like this analogy: when we talk about breast cancer awareness, people don't get upset and say, "But ALL cancer matters." Black lives matter, too, and as much as other lives, which has not been shown to be the case in this country.

And one more thing, we need to teach real history in this country, and acknowledge the harm symbols of slavery do to those who were enslaved and had their history erased when they were brought here from Africa. We are still "whitewashing" the history of this country. I was shocked to learn Abraham Lincoln was morally against slavery, but did not think the races should 'mix' or that they were equal. I have however, known what Juneteenth was since 1986 (DT, you SOB).

My place of White privilege and person with some social currency is to be a visible ally to my Black brothers and sisters, and bring my perspective for consideration to my White counterparts in a way that dialogue can happen. I admittedly have a lot of work to do and quite honestly, I feel Adam is pushing me along this path. I can't help but think he would have rejoiced in this change coming. I pray that he is watching.

I have broken down in tears several times over the overt racism that still exists today, and even talking about some of the things that have happened recently. My heart hurts.

https://cssp.org/2020/03/recognizing-race-in-language-why-we-capitalize-black-and-white/

https://www.history.com/news/5-things-you-may-not-know-about-lincoln-slavery-and-emancipation

May 2020

May is Mental Health Month

We are living in challenging times as the world we knew has turned upside down. I want you to know you are not alone. Mental Health has been a national focus in May since 1949, and it’s more important now than ever. We need to practice inner and outer self-care during this time of uncertainty. Now is not the time to compare yourself to others who are using extra down time to improve their home or physique if you are struggling to get through what feels like an endless day. We are experiencing grief on a personal level and a societal level simultaneously. Whether you are experiencing job loss, cancelled vacation plans, postponed medical or dental procedures, or the losing someone you love, this level of change requires respect and compassion with ourselves. The internal work of deep grief takes a lot of energy, and this is probably why you feel so fatigued.

Unfortunately, more suicides occur in the late spring than other times of year. It is helpful to be mindful of our feelings and confide in someone you trust. You can also speak kindly to yourself as you would a friend. Rather than bash yourself, you can tell yourself something like, “I see your pain. This is difficult and confusing.” Self-compassion is a tool that takes practice.

This is a good time to check in with friends and family who may be having a hard time or isolating. If you don’t like talking on the phone, send a text, direct message, Snapchat or drop a note in the mail.

I wanted to share a couple of resources from organizations that have been advocating for mental health for decades below.

American Foundation for Suicide Prevention:

Afsp.org/mental-health-and-covid-19

National Alliance on Mental Illness:

Nami.org/covid-19-guide

SAMHSA Treatment Referral Hotline (Substance Abuse):

1-800-662-HELP (4357)

If you find yourself unable to shake your feelings of discomfort, depression, or fear, Behavioral Health Services is providing TeleHealth services during the stay-at-home orders by phone and video chat using HIPAA compliant technology. Please call 309-836-1582 if you would like to speak to a counselor or make an appointment for services.

If you are having thoughts of suicide, please reach out:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:

1-800-273-8255 (Veterans press 1)

Crisis Text Line:

Text 741-741 and type TALK

Veterans Crisis Line:

Text 838-255 and type TALK

88 is Pretty Great

Hi everyone,

Yeah, I miss my dad. I've seen people fight and wrestle (I'm trying not to use that word) with the death of a parent. Do I? Nah, not when the man had 88 "pretty good" years on earth, his words. Not when his body failed and his mind wasn't quick enough to keep up with the large group conversation anymore and he repeated himself on a circuit of rants. Not when he was frustrated more than he was content.

Did his greatest fear happen? That he would mindlessly repeat the phrase, "Have you ever been to Minneapolis?" over and over, as one of his elderly relatives did? No, not at all. He was the best introverted conversationalist I knew, able to pull a joke or a story or lecture on linguistics out of the spaghetti strands of his brain at just the right moment.

Richard would not have lasted long under the Cornavirus conditions of the nursing home he was confined to. Thank Goodness, thank Bob, thank Free Booklet he didn't have to. I have no regrets. I don't think he did either.

His last acting role at Western Illinois Museum as Abe Lincoln's photographer, 2018.

These Times

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

I wanted to drop some sunshine here today, as my region is under cloud cover. I've been working on staying positive. Here are some thoughts I've been focusing on:

• we can do hard things
• I see your joy and light
• no one can take my joy and light away from me
• we will get through this
• what have I learned during this time of reflection?
• nature is at its finest, green, purple, pink, yellow, red
• birds carry on nesting and hatching, humans are doing the same

It's worth getting up for

I have not been up this early in awhile. The melatonin seems to be working but I didn't take it last night.

At 3:37 I woke up from a beautiful dream of coming home to find Adam on the stairs. I thought my eyes might be tricking me at first, and it was Eli or Cal in a different light. But he came down the stairs and we embraced and it was really him. He said, "I really like it here...out there."

My first awake conscious thought is, this must be how it is when you die. You can have these experiences in your brain (dreams) and basically they can be anything you want. Second thought: he's telling me he's okay, he likes where he is.

*as an added bonus the first thing I see on Messenger this morning is that Adam's friend Tara had a dream about him the previous night and found a picture of them in a box yesterday. I, too, had been going through stuff of Adam's yesterday, getting rid of things we hadn't found a use for, donating or tossing them. It is hard to let go anything that is his. Even an old, but expensive (he had to have the best) sleeping bag he hadn't used in a over a decade, let alone had we.

Obsessed

I can't even.

Yes, I can. I discovered this book by accident. I don't follow Reese Witherspoon but somehow ran across her announcement that Untamed was her April book club choice. I then started seeing videos by Glennon Doyle called "Morning Meetings." There was something about her that made me order the book. I rarely buy books, but with the library closed...

I got it and devoured it. It's part memoir, part handbook, part love story, and a whole lotta feminist theory in an easy to digest way. Take for example the chapter on shampoo. Glennon notices the descriptions on the shampoo bottles in her kids' shower. The boys shampoo sounds like they are going to war. The girls shampoo is soft and diminutive.

Indeed, I looked in my shower at the bottle of Axe and found this:

The cleaner you get (picture of man showering)

The dirtier you get (picture of man and woman)

Unlimited female attention 

I kid you not. We are literally being conditioned (no pun intended) while we shower. She asks us to disrupt the taming of women by our action in the world. To summarize Ava DuVernay, forget about breaking the glass ceiling, make your own building. The last thing I would want to be is CEO of a corporation (although we need women there), so that gave me a new perspective. 

Glennon tells me I am a writer if I wonder if I am a writer day in and day out, if I envy writers. I won't say envy in that I want to be anyone else or live their life, but envy in the sense that successful writers have committed to allowing their words to flow out and are touching others. 

And she ends the book with my favorite meditation. 

I am

I am

I am

This is not a fill in the blank, but what has been described to me as the nearest we can get to God. 

Upsidedown and Sideways

One of the 'exciting' things I decided to do during quarantine is borrow a friends headstand contraption. There may be a fancier name for it but I don't know it.

When Cal was here I asked if he wanted to try it. He wanted a demonstration first. I easily flipped up into this position:

Cal promptly goes, "That's the most athletic thing I've ever seen you do, Mom."

It doesn't get any better than that.

Nephew

Adam was the first nephew on both sides of his family. No nieces either. Uncle Kevin mailed me a stash of photos that arrived today that are precious to me. Never seen them before, or my memory has failed me. It's like a new window into my boy.

Like finding his Instagram account, and the girl pictured in one of my favorite photos of him. Those comments, those stories, these new pictures, they sustain and help me so much. I hope I keep discovering these pieces of him until we meet again.

I stumbled on this blog today, and these two boys, Rob and Adam, could be brothers.

https://thesandandthewater.net/

Has anyone else packed on the COVID 20? Pounds, that is?

I'm also learning so many new things! Tik Tok, Houseparty, Instagram video chat, Zoom, teletherapy, copy and paste on the Iphone (I know, Boomer). The creative juices are oozing out of people. I'm impressed. It's unbelievable. How would this shut down look before the Internet?

What is the thing most people will remember about this period of history? TIGER KING. 

Joe Exotic + Carol Baskin = biggest thing to hit the small screen ever.

I just found this picture I love, love, love. Great memories with my favorite sister in Denver, CO 2018. Special thanks to Eli for giving us the excuse to visit Denver again and relive old memories, and find old friends.

Cup O' Joe Musings

Before I get sucked down the rabbit hole that is social media, my thoughts for this Friday morning. It's so great it's still Friday because I took yesterday off, and it's feeling wonderful to still have a three weekend ahead.

In many ways, my lifestyle is not that much different pre- and post-Corona. I thankfully still have a job to go to. But apparently, I already stay home a lot. I do visit my elderly mom a couple of times a week because I believe isolation kills more people than viruses.

Well, Friday blended into Saturday, but just barely. It's now 2:23 a.m. Can you believe sometimes coffee makes it easier to fall back asleep? For this I hope.

People are getting really creative post-Corona, and we are all just doing the best we can. Have you noticed how cheap gas is? To change it up a bit, we are driving to another town to walk the trails in a large park and maybe get some lemon ice cream afterwards. That's allowed, right?

I have a 500+ page book I am slogging through. Since the library is closed, this is a good thing, except it's not really that interesting. We all read Clan of the Cave Bear back in the day, and Jean Auel wrote a sequel in 2002, but it doesn't have the fascination I recall.

I like how mental health advocates are calling out the misnomer social distancing, which should be known as physical distancing. We are social creatures and this should not be discouraged albeit it looks different. It's physical distancing we need to avoid.

So just one more thing. I had my first virtual happy hour last night with Jacob Moore of NoStigmas and Kevin Hines who is just a beacon of light in the suicide prevention world. Kevin answered my question (fan geek moment) about people backing away in public and just getting such a stressed vibe out there. It does disturb me a little bit even though I am relatively secure. He said it's not personal (which I knew) but self-preservation, and I would add fear. I like that shift that people are just trying to survive and that is understandable. We are all on different levels with this thing. I will leave you with this visual I thought was very fitting:

My Truth

I've been counseling people on micro and macro grief related to the worldwide pandemic this week (thanks for the lead Betsy), and the situation is getting intense with Illinois' stay-at-home order extended to April 30th. I sat down to watch the Today show this morning (which I never do), and I just cried at the news of an ER doctor who died of COVID-19, thousands of people trapped on cruise ships that no one wants to dock, nurses worn out and lacking proper PPE, need I go on? I usually don't expose myself to much of this lest I go to the darker side, which is my way of coping, no judgment, so I can continue marching forward.

But with this growing alarm, I think of little positive ways to cope. For instance, I moved all my black clothes (1/3 of my wardrobe) to the back of the closet and will try to wear other colors this month.

Here's some things you might do during Corona April:

1. Get your 10,000 steps every day
2. Complete your Census
3. Organize your photos (digital or print)
4. Make hearts and hang them in windows and doors
5. Donate blood
6. Moisturize everything
7. Take a nap. Take another nap.
8. Clean your closets
9. Write letters
10. Make a craft
11. Do something for the elderly (juggle or play music outside their windows?)
12. Post something funny or creative on social media
13. Do a tutorial video either serious (yogis doing yoga) or sarcastic (me doing make-up)

I hope this note finds you safe, well, and grateful for what you do have. Somehow we will come through this and maybe find some new strength and connection.

Pride

Here we go again with the Pride and Joy tears. I am proud of that boy.

Before his first birthday

At his last birthday 

Nuke on Nuke's terms

Shed a tear after a dream about Adam. The details aren't important but I took the message as I was trying to "fix" him which was well-meaning but misplaced. The tear came from knowing I don't have a chance in this life to make things right. Accepting him on his terms and getting through the muck to get there. I think we had a good start, and we could have gotten there in time.

The dream last week of hugging him, that was pure not wanting to let go.

*Nuke is Pat's nickname for Adam. When he was three his favorite movie was Bull Durham.

It's finally here

If you are following my blog, you may recognize where this is going.

I had been thinking about a tattoo to honor Adam for quite a long time (1-2-3 years?). I thought about a dragon (born in 1988, year of the dragon), a crown (King Tut, his favorite drink, part of the tattoo he had across his chest), or something he wrote.

When I saw his friend Ashleigh's tattoo "Long Live the King" on the inside of her left arm, close to her heart, I knew that was the location, and I started looking for something he wrote. I also puzzled over where to go and when.

The most popular tattoo artist in town books months in advance, and I wasn't sure once I decided I wanted to wait that long. I heard one shop had all female artists, but they never seemed to be open. I was drawn to a place called Nomad Tattoo for some unknown reason.

A week after my dad's death I found the notes my dad had scribbled for Adam's memorial service, including the title of a poem Ave Etque Vale, Hail and Farewell. When I googled the poem, yeah, I thought that was so fitting. I had previously dug up Mother's Day cards from Adam, but it didn't seem quite right to put "Happy Mother's Day" on my arm. Finally I decided to combine my dad's quote and Adam's handwriting Love, Adam. 

Next was where to go. On March 6, my mom, Betsy and I attended a play at the local community theater. One of the actors' biographies listed him as the owner/tattoo artist at Nomad. I enjoyed his performance, he supported the theater by buying an ad, so I stopped in the next day and made an appointment for March 14.

Sam wasn't as personable as I hoped, but I'm happy with the results. Let me know what you think. Or not.

Normal-ish

I've been tossing ideas for this blog post around since the Coronavirus amped up on March 11, 2020. Cal deems this time in our history "3-11" and I agree, 3/11/20 was a turning point. He remembers it as the day the NBA suspended play, and I remember it as...damn, I can't remember.* I think it was the day universities started extending Spring Break. That's when I started taking this seriously. That was a Wednesday. The bricks began falling out of the wall rapidly.

By Monday, we were living in a different world. Schools, restaurants, events and gatherings of any kind cancelled, followed by gyms and workplaces. Temperature checks and tents being set up outside my place of work (a hospital). Vague press conferences saying "We've got this under control. We're prepared." Prepared for what?? Are we in a bad movie? To say surreal barely cuts it.

Initially, I thought this was another example of the 'wimping of America.' I compared it to the gratuitous closing of schools for any weather event that felt uncomfortable. It felt like anyone acting normal was being accused of being unsafe or putting others at risk.  I was going to make a joke about North Dakota being the most desirable place to live; only 1 COVID-19 case, and plenty of natural social distancing.

I thought about 9-11 and Y2K and this began to feel much bigger. When my mom said her grandchildren better not visit, I knew it was serious.

That brings me to today, 3/20/20. March seems like the longest month ever; time has slowed to a crawl. The two weeks of school closure beginning March 16 is half over, but everyone expects the rest of the school year is going to be home based.

My kids who are involved in education have gathered here at home, and I must say this is an unexpected delight. When was the last time we could just hang out indefinitely?! The weather was perfect for cocktail hour on the deck last evening (hello Diet Pepsi). Lots of laughter and love, but no hugging or touching.

And so we wait for the next news event to direct our life and activities. Some moments feel normal, some most definitely do not. Stay safe out there, as if you haven't heard that enough lately.

*Upon reading People magazine 3/27/20, I was reminded March 11 was the day Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson announced they had the virus in Australia.

Happy

Twice in recent weeks I had clients direct me to watch the PBS documentary Happy. Well, not really direct me, but I do often feed off suggestions and ideas of my clients, which is a wonderful benefit of the work I do. I had heard of it before, and honestly, the word Happy just kind throws up a resistant wall for me, so it took three times of hearing about the movie for me to finally take action.

I have long had a hard time relating to the word "happy" or notion of "happiness" as some kind of squad goal. To me happiness is a fleeting emotion I experience occasionally which fades all too quickly. I don't see it as a sustainable state of mind, nor would I really want to. Part of the beauty and spice of life is experiencing a myriad of emotions: heartbreak, disappointment, sadness, excitement, unease, delight.

In counseling when I ask clients what they want to get out of counseling they often say they want to be happy. I always ask them to define this, as it seems to me such a dubious concept. My own definition of happiness would be something like a life filled with love, laughter, peace, and contentment.

So, my goal for today is to finish the documentary, come back, and close this blog with some kind of new wisdom.

It took a few days, but I finally finished the movie and have had time to digest it and come back here. I took notes but unfortunately I left them at work to discuss with my clients. Here's my takeaway for what it's worth:

Research fellows presented a pie, where 50% of happiness is genetic, 10% circumstances and 40% things within our control such as exercise, human connection, nature, helping others, mindfulness, and experiencing flow.

Flow is doing something just because you love to, those times where you lose track of time because you are so into whatever you are doing.

Mindful Moment: A leafless tree against the most exquisite blue sky this morning at 6:51 a.m.

Flow: Reading a book and soaking the characters, stories and lessons into the fiber of my soul.

Joy is a beautiful word and apropos this time of year. I like joy much more than happiness.  C.S. Lewis puts it this way:

"Real joy seems to me almost as unlike security or prosperity as it is unlike agony.  It jumps under one’s ribs and tickles down one’s back and makes one forget meals and keeps one (delightedly) sleepless o’ nights. It shocks one awake when the other puts one to sleep. My private table is one second of joy is worth 12 hours of Pleasure. "

I don't have Adam here for Christmas, but I have love. Sometimes I experience joy.  Life is good. Choose life.

Note: Apparently I wrote this 12/15/16. I found it in my documents and think it still applies. 

Ave etque Vale

I never talked to my dad about this. I wish I had.

After Dad died, my mom gave us kids a box of mementos to go through and keep what we wanted. I found a small spiral notebook with two pages written in his hand, the rest blank. I immediately identified his notes as what he spoke at Adam's memorial. He had seven little points written down and after that, the words Ave etque Vale. Though he spelled it differently, when I looked up the translation, it was obviously the poem above, translated as Hail and Farewell. 

I do not remember if he quoted the whole poem at Adam's service, but suffice it say, as Betsy noted at Dad's celebration of life, he always, always, had the right words for any occasion.

Note: Catullus 101 is an elegiac poem written by the Roman poet Gaius Valerius Catullus.

Mary Coin

Things have been falling behind a bit here. There is a pile of White Elephant gifts wrapped in newspapers left over from Christmas when my contributions didn't get re-gifted.

You see, my Pops fell on January 11 and collapsed at home. My mom couldn't move him or get him in the bed, and I didn't hear the phone ring. I found out the next morning (a Sunday) and went the hospital where he was finally admitted from the ER for 'observation.' After a CT scan showed a spinal fracture, he was moved to the healthcare center next to my parent's duplex for rehab.

As anyone with elderly parents knows, there's a bit of wrangling about the arrangements, insurance, etc. and I'll spare further details of the other struggles (emotional and otherwise). Fortunately, my parents have good health insurance and long term care insurance. They did not want us taking care of them in our home. So off to the nursing center he goes.

Something was drilled into my head that if either of my parents ever went into a nursing home, it was my job to visit them everyday, in addition to supporting my mom when she needed me to talk to doctors, nurses, insurance people, etc.

Other than one night I sent Pat in my place, I kept my promise to myself to visit everyday or sometimes twice a day. It quickly became my job to help Dad with his upper false teeth. For some reason, he didn't think the aides could do this properly. "TTW" he repeated to me. Tablet, teeth, water (HOT water, as HOT as you can get it). At this point, he couldn't transfer, toilet, position or wheel himself , walk or stand, and is in excruciating pain every time he does have to move. Physical therapy was referred to "torture" and it was a challenge to find a medication that didn't make him nauseous.

We did take our planned trip to Florida in late January and luckily Betsy was in Illinois that weekend because Dad was admitted to the hospital again, briefly for new issues. And back to the the nursing home, which he referred to as rehab. At this point he was spelling out Plan A, B, C, then Plan A sub 1 (a) or (b). I honestly couldn't follow his thought process here. I think Plan A was 'fully' recover and go home, and C was to live in assisted living with an electric wheelchair so he could drive himself to see Mom when the weather was good.

Here I should mention what a trooper Mom was/is, and how he would get sentimental telling me about their love story. Things I never heard before. He thought he had got the greatest catch in the world.

One more ER visit and hospital admission for pneumonia February 6th. This one really scared me because one night he was making no sense, and I had to feed him the few bites he would take. He got his teeth out that night, but barely. I saw his weight on the White Board and he had lost 24 pounds from when he was home. The next day he was perfectly coherent and was discharged the day after that. Mom had also come down with a terrible cough and didn't get out of bed for days and of course you can't infect a hospital or nursing home with those germs.

Dad dragged himself, or rather they dragged him to rehab a few times over the next 8 days, but there were days he stayed in bed, too. Throughout this process I was reading him the novel "Mary Coin." It's a wonderful historical fiction piece about the picture below:

He really enjoyed the three story lines and even was reading out loud to me the last night. He repeated some when he got interrupted, but then would realize, "I read this before." It was really enjoyable for both of us, especially after he got his private room, and we didn't have to listen to Delmar grumble in the next bed about how he was trying sleep and it's supposed to be quiet after 9:00 (it was usually 7:30), and what happened to his private room?? Well, he thought he had private room until they moved a roommate (Dad) in, but he was not paying for a private room. 

The last week he told me not to remember him like this, that I didn't have to visit him everyday and should go on with my life, and made other hints that he knew time was running out. On Monday night he called Mom and I both to be there together to go over Plan A sub 1 (a) again. It still didn't make any sense but we agreed with him.

On Wednesday February 19, Mom was there in the afternoon and left about 3:00 to go take a nap, not being fully recovered from her illness, but able to visit at least. All the staff are now wearing masks all the time at this point. Dad wasn't feeling well (was in bed after rehab) and apparently had some new kind of medication. Mom got the call about 5:45 that he passed. She called us in the middle of dinner, and we had some time to be with him in the room. Mom didn't like that his mouth was open (she has a thing about that), but I told her they probably didn't want to touch him. Then the coroner came and whisked him away to be cremated. We cleaned out the room; he didn't have much since this was "temporary."

How to end this rant...know that I will write cheerier posts in the future. I feel like he went the way he wanted. He tried his best to recover but the body was worn out. He kept his mind to the end, didn't  drain his savings on a nursing home, and he wasn't a burden to anyone. I got to spend this extra time with him and be the daughter he thought I was. Praise God for this.

I think he would be happy to be remembered this way. Family vacation, the red van, and car top carrier he made from plywood. He also made sleeping benches for Betsy and me to sleep in the back. I still remember the material on those benches and the love that was sewn into them.

The Boy who would be Coach

Here's my little 8th grader leading the Mustangs onto the floor. He's first because he's the shortest.

Here he is 12 years later coaching his 8th grade team at the State quarterfinals. They led most of game, but the last two minutes didn't go their way. The team with the heart held their heads up and Coach Cal exceeded his goal of winning their Regional.

Cal wasn't the most athletically gifted player but he's taken his skills and intuition and heart to the junior high level in academics and coaching three sports. I couldn't be more happy and proud of him. He's living the dream and appreciating it everyday.

On Surviving Four Years

I had a little dream early on 2/2/2020. It involved Adam's friend Brent whom I have been talking to. He's a big Cheif's fan so the Superbowl was coming up that day, along with the anniversary of Adam's death.

I don't remember the dream, and Adam was peripheral to it, but it felt nice, at least like he was near. Four years, and counting. Counting the days that have past, dreading some days ahead. Feeling useful in life, purposeful, as things change in my family situation. That's not my story to tell, but at some point it might come out anyway.

Punch cards for Hope

We all have our days. Some have weeks, months or years. But healing is always possible. Sometimes we need more patience, especially with ourselves.

I choose to see the positive, skip over the negative, especially when it comes to what is happening in the world, the news, politics, social media, and in front of my face. I don't think this means I have my head in the sand. I am trying to incite change where I think I can make an impact.

I don't believe in the word "broken" as it applies to people or the world. Changing is more positive and also inevitable. Feeling broken makes room for healing and growth if one chooses to look at it this way.

Don't get me wrong, I have break downs. Things pile up sometimes and we need to take those moments to feel it. If I could give out hope in little punch cards or gift cards, wouldn't that be cool? Because true hopelessness seems to be the thing that contributes most to suicide. But hopelessness is just a feeling, too. For most of it passes eventually. Sometimes it takes work, yes.

If you are in need of a Hope infusion, please accept one punch from my heart shaped hole punch in your little card. Come back when you need another, and another. I have a little extra to share.

With a Little Help from his Friends

I am blessed to say I still continue to meet and talk to friends of Adam and understand more of the impact he had on them and the world. Last Friday evening while I was waiting for my pizza to cook, I recognized a high school friend of Adam. I had seen her comments on Facebook and that's how I knew that Adam's death affected her. So, I introduced myself as Adam's mom, and she said, "Yeah, I thought that was you."  She asked how I was doing, and sauntered away. Then suddenly she came back and showed me a semi-colon tattoo on her finger she got after Adam's suicide. I thought that was really cool, and told her about the one I want to get for Adam using a handwritten note from him.

I can't tell you how it fortifies me to have these little interactions and know how many people cared about him and were devastated by his death. I think he knew he had good friends and only in the last few years of his life did he start to share this with me. But having friends isn't enough in those low moments. Reaching out on a regular basis is crucial, but hard to do in this fast paced culture.

Two UIS friends have recently told me Adam helped them through a critical point in their lives, one by playing Connect Four for hours, and the other on the phone after he moved back to Chicago Heights. It's crazy the impact little things can have.

This was probably my favorite grief quote, and I had lost track of it, but I found two different versions over the past two weeks. Thank you universe for providing what I need when I need it.

January

It's January again...the Christmas decorations are down, the trees put away or thrown away, the visitors safely home. Arguably, the longest month of the year. In-arguably, it has been for me the past three years.

January 2016 I was mindlessly unaware my oldest adult child was undergoing a crisis of epic proportions. That's not an exaggeration; it ended in his suicide. A terrible truth we live with everyday, but this bleak, cold month it feels stronger, newer and more unmanageable again.

And so I am reminded everywhere of him in life, while I cling to our connection after his death. Others are hearing his laugh or his voice in my youngest son, and that warms my heart. Still I deal with the sudden sick feeling in the pit of my stomach sending me to the bathroom out of nowhere.

I'll just leave this right here and hope I can live up to it in some small way: