A1

 Sometimes when I'm working or talking with someone more newly bereaved than me, I'm afraid I come off as callous or unfeeling when I don't cry or show emotion. I'm typically not that emotional anyway, but they may not know that. 

They don't know the silent ways I think about and remember Adam everyday. They don't know I had a bottle of  A1 sauce in my refrigerator for 8 years that was last used by Adam. It finally got tossed sometime this past year. I wear his McCoy jersey on game day. They don't know the watch on my left wrist was worn by Adam in our last family picture. It is on its second wristband and 3rd or so battery and still working great. He had good taste in the material things :) I give his headstone a pat each time I walk through the cemetery, at least weekly, and I walk 27 laps at the Y.  

I feel lucky that I was able to make all the decisions about his memorial service, every song and speaker, the time and place. I produced the slide show which kept me occupied the first few days. I have a few regrets, one being that we didn't invite his friends from Springfield back to our house after the service. I console myself with the belief they needed their own time to be together and grieve in their own way (gathering at Rocky's Bar and Grill, somewhere they had shared past good times and apparently shots of Crown). I'm blessed to spend time with them each fall at the Springfield Out of the Darkness Walk. 

We're all on our own journey and deep down I don't think I am being judged for my actions, reactions, and outward appearance in the wake of losing Adam. Everyone seems to have given me grace, and I am just glad that I am someone people feel they can talk to in their deepest sorrow. That alone is a great honor. 

Skies

 I am thankful to have been out before sunrise today and looked up to see a clear sky. The Little Dipper was right there. Sometimes I have trouble finding it. I looked for the Big Dipper, but couldn't find it. I walked a bit further, looked up, and there it was, the Big Dipper. Next time I gazed skyward, all clouds. Finally daybreak. Too many buildings and trees to see the sun, but I know it is there. Just like everyday. 

Adam, I love you clear past the twinkle stars. You inspire and guide me everyday.

May the Fourth

 

Yesterday brought this mama's heart joy. You see, we were invited to the wedding of a friend of Adam's from college, Matt. It was a Star Wars theme, though not over the top in this regard. Pat agreed to accompany me and meet most of Adam's college friends for the first time. I was a little nervous knowing there was a lot of built in unstructured time where we would need to socialize. I wasn't sure how much we would have to talk about, but turns out we had a wonderful time. There were around 50 people there and that gave us an opportunity to talk to everyone in a leisurely way. 

If I said I didn't know any of these friends before Adam's death it wouldn't be an understatement. We have gotten to know each other over the course of eight years of Out of the Darkness Walks in Springfield where we have fellowshipped over a meal following the afternoon Walk. In the picture above, front row, we have Jon, me, Matt's aunt Jayne, Sarah, Zach, and Sam. The back row is Tae, Brent and groom Matt.

Everyone was so open and friendly and willing to talk about Adam. We also caught up on their personal lives, and it was just easy and comfortable. Perhaps most impressive was Matt's family, who all personally talked to me about their connection to Adam and suicide. His parents are just the warmest, most genuine people. Matt privately told me that had Adam been here, he would have been his best man. 

To know Adam's impact on their lives, and the depth they have brought to my life, gives me incredible peace. The photo above is one of the University of Illinois Springfield gang, who have maintained strong bonds for many, many years. They insisted, and I mean insisted that I be in the UIS pictures to represent Adam. Of course, I would give anything for him to have had this moment, but sometimes life doesn't work that way. 

I am grateful and filled with love clear past the twinkle stars today. I hope my best boy would be proud of me as I am of him. 

Poem

 

The siblings visited the labyinth 9/23/24. It was chilly but we were prepared. Chris and I may not have been prepared for the poem that Betsy shared. Words just ooze out of her. We all are in awe of her insights and ways she expresses herself. She pushes through the moments to let her emotions be known. She makes us feel all the feels. This kate coverdale maybe should have been a published poet (she actually is), but we are so lucky we are the recipients of her deeply felt beliefs, innermost feelings, and healing energy.

For Adam, who taught me the endless possibility of love

I wish I’d known.

I wish I’d taken your pain, crumpled it up and held it in my heart, for you,

Returning it in torn little bits, instead of that long sheet of grief.

Because there is pain in this life, immoveable things we must all move through.

They say if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

I say if wishes were horses, I’d ride, by your side, through that storm,

Until we found a place where the clouds part ever so much

To allow that small break through which that single exquisite beam

Renders nearly the touch of God.

No matter if I believe or you believe, but maybe that warm touch,

Would have been enough to light another day.

I wish I could gather you in my arms as when you were a baby, rocking you for a hundred hours or

more, walking a hundred miles or more.

I’d hold your pain, just as I once held you,

Until you slept that deep sleep of a baby’s innocent slumber,

To wake for one more day,

A day in which you could impossibly move through that immoveable thing.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

Every day, I wish.

kate coverdale, Mar 17, 2024

Tragic

 Once I had the house to myself I put on "Timeless Love Songs," shaved my legs, and took a shower. In the course of this simple routine, I heard "Your Song," the song Adam's dad played with my son, Eli and his wife, Hannah on the night before his memorial service. Next I heard "I Will Always Love You," Adam's most hated song of 1992, or maybe he just hated me singing along on the chorus. Well, I let out some wailing sounds, the kind that comes from the base of your soul. The sound you make when you lose a child. I was able to belt out some of the lyrics in the bathroom, where my voice always sounds better (if only to myself). 

You see, there was a terrible school bus accident this week. Two adults, two 3 year olds, and a 5 year old were killed in a small town near me. What those parents are going through is unimaginable. My heart hurts for them. My friend who lost her adult son in 2020 is on the crew of the high school musical in that small town. I should know better than to ask what they need. Of course, she said she couldn't think of anything. 

So I put on my big girl pants (and Adam's black hoodie) and baked some brownies to take when we go to the play tonight. Made sure I have cash in my wallet in case they take a donation. And Kleenex. I hate crying in front of people. 

Time out for a breakdown to Tracy Chapman's "Baby Can I Hold You Tonight," my song for the not yet born, Adam Tuttle, from the 1988 debut CD that I listened to repeatedly. 

If you've never heard "This Year's Love" by David Gray, it's a beautiful, mournful song. It will get you feeling some type of way. I'm feeling all the feels today. 

I'll leave you with these pics of my boys. 

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

By Emily Dickinson 

The French Riviera

 I did a pretty poor job (no job) of blogging (bragging?) about my recent Mediterranean cruise. For some reason, I was thinking about the day we had in Nice, France, on April 22, 2023. Our ship docked in Villefranche-sur-Mer, on the French Riviera, where many celebrities summer, and home to Monaco, the Cannes film festival, and Monte Carlo. There were excursions to these locales, but we didn't have an excursion planned so we 'winged it.' We did a little research, and I was keen to get to the roof top of Museum of Modern Art and Contemporary Art in Nice, for "the best views in the city." 

We hopped right off the ship, no tendering needed, and explored the welcoming area of the port before boarding a Hop On Hop Off bus to Nice. Good luck figuring out how to get a ticket. 

We drove past the beautiful Promenade along the water, before the bus turned onto a city street and abruptly stopped. No explanation was given, but everyone had to get off. Since I had a destination and tourist map in hand, we took off on foot, and quickly found ourselves at the Promenade des Arts. We were seated at a street cafe looking around when we figured out the museum was just to the right of us. 

Sidewalk cafe with extremely slow service

Betsy taking pics in the Promenade des Arts while waiting for our food

MAMAC

The climb to the top of the museum was, interesting, we skipped looking at the most of the art, running from one escalator to another to stairs, to finally arriving on the roof. The building seemed pretty beat up and old. Not like an American museum. But the views from the roof did not disappoint! 

The curvy walkways and heights gave me chills. You can't really tell without the 360 degree panoramic how bizarre this space was. 

Pano- looks cooler on Facebook 360

Bird's eye view of Nice

Pano- you could literally step over this rail and jump. It freaked me out.

We somehow found our way back to a Hop On stop and toured back to the ship. I was beginning to feel woosy and became sick by the next day. 

Check My Judgment

 Wow, I just saw some Facebook drama on a community page, throwing around the "Karen" word. Can I first say, I'm so sorry to all the good Karens of the world? I know a few, no, I know many, and now they get a bum wrap for having been given a name that has become synonymous with white entitlement and privilege. 

Now to admit the hard part. I had judgmental thoughts about the post "Karyn" so rudely commented on. Luckily I think before I click, most of the time. 

This morning I woke up to a text message asking me to make a casserole for a family in need. Do I want to do it? Do I have time to do it? Not really, but guess what? Yesterday we smelled gas in the house and I called Ameren to check it out. Suffice it to say, we are safe and down $619 in our checking account. Probably half the families in our town couldn't have afforded the bill on the spot like that. They would be out of their home, probably have frozen water pipes, and who knows how they would scrape up that kind of money to fix the problem and have their gas turned back on? Did I mention the temperature was in the single digits?  

Not only did Ameren provide prompt service, our local heating company came out within an hour and spent nearly 4 hours repairing four gas leaks. We are truly blessed this was taken care of so promptly. The least I could do was pack him a warm dinner to go. 

I don't know what it's like to flee a domestic violence situation with multiple children, although I was technically homeless with a child once upon a time. I always knew I had family support, though I was loathe to ask for help. This "Susan" needs to check herself and make the casserole. 

Something for the New Year 2024

 Reflections of 2023

I left my job of almost 9 years and embarked on a new adventure with more hours, longer commute, and new technology challenges. One silver lining is viewing the stunning sunsets on my drive home. Dusk on the open prairie is unmatched. I do often think of Calvin sitting on the beach watching the same sun go down over the ocean. 

I started an Instagram series "Wednesdays in Oquawka" where I photograph interesting little gems in this Mississippi River town. I also dine with the local seniors occasionally and that has been a fun way to connect with the community I now serve. 

Betsy and I took a true dream vacation to the Mediterranean in April. 10 days and nights at sea from Venice to Barcelona, around the boot of Italy. Every day was a new port and exciting adventure. Honestly, my favorite part was sitting on our balcony after a tiring day, watching the other passengers board, and pulling out to sea with, again, gorgeous sunsets behind breathtaking shorelines, mountains and cliffs. 

 I joined a Book Club this fall, something I have always wanted to do, and like my mom, I am the "old lady" of the group. I see why she values this so much, getting to know some new faces and personalities, listening to how they speak and think about life. Excluding me and one other older woman, the average age is probably 40. 

As always, the Out of the Darkness Walks sustained my mission to honor and pay forward Adam's life, and I get much more in return than I give. 

Watching my kids succeed in the world has been my biggest pride and joy. When I have a down day, I think of them and their impact on the world, and I can't help but be happy. I am forever grateful they let me be part of their lives. 

Pat has been by my side almost 33 years. Through the occasional testiness, frequent snoring, and ups and downs of life, we have found a way to laugh and peacefully cohabitate and reach our goals together.