Travelblog Day Four

We all got up to Rodrigo's fabulous mini-quiches before departing on the bus for Valletta. A two dollar 45 minutes bus ride was better than any carnival or amusement park ride I've ever been on. Our lady driver was amazing. I believe the rule in Malta is drive down the middle of the narrow street until you meet an oncoming car then swerve left at the last possible second. It feels a little like a constant game of chicken. Park at your peril because these buses can only barely squeeze down the lane, and when we encountered a delivery truck blocking the street, my seatmate nearly blew a gasket. The bus driver was honking and a girl on a mobile was looking very stressed in the street. I assume it was her delivery. Anyway, they eventually moved and our capable driver safely delivered us to the walls of the city of Valletta, Malta's capital. The Triton fountain was under refurbishment so we missed that.

This is what the street of Valletta look like.

Our first mission was to find a battery for Ethan's camera which died at a most unfortunate time. We asked in shop after shop and were led to several different camera shops, but no luck finding the right battery. Our big destination after viewing the Grand Harbour from Upper Barrakka Gardens was St. John's Co-Cathedral. I did not realize I would come face to face with Caravaggio's breathtaking painting Beheading of St John the Baptist in the Oratory of the church. No photography allowed and could not do it justice anyway. Caravaggio was imprisoned for time in Malta, that cad, and completed this in 1608 two years before his untimely death. The raking light and the realism of his work, particularly the anatomy of his figures is un-be-lievable. It's incredible how this art holds up 400 plus years later, physically and emotionally.

We walked some more and chose a quaint indoor trattoria and we were all pleased with our Italian fare, especially the pillowy four cheese gnocchi that I can't stop thinking about. We then headed back to the bus, picking up gelato (found the advisably brown pistachio) and blended coffee drinks. Can you believe I passed?

Back to the villa for a nap and a long poolside swim and social time. Another wonderful day in Malta!

Travelblog Day 3

After getting lost on the way to the bank, made it back to the embassy residence in a little over an hour. It should have been 10-15 minutes. I was feeling a little nervous, even knowing the Ambassador personally. Maybe more like foolish. The streets didn't seem to match the map, and the folks I asked for help were of no use.  To boot, when I got back, I thought I only got 150 Euros for 300 Ameican. Checked my wallet and it was actually 252 Euro.

Betsy was kind of mad I ran off by myself while she was sleeping so we walked up to the San Anton Gardens, a public park on the president's palace grounds. By now my feet already getting tired and it's hot as blazes. You will have to check Facebook for pictures as I can't figure out how to add photos on the tablet. We got a cold drink across the way at a public area of the Villa Bologna. BTW, the embassy residence is known as Villa Apap Bologna and is literally across the street (Tiq).

Villa Apap Bolgna (now Queen Elizabeth stayed here with Prince Phillip, and possibly conceived Charles here (according to legend).

After Claudia arrived and we lunched on fresh bread, fruit, meat and cheese, we took our e-taxi to Ta'Quali Arts Village, a repurposed WWII British barracks. There was a bit of a fuss about reserving a return ride for 5:15 because none of us had a cell phone, "no mobile no ride" even though they had agreed earlier by house telephone. Four of us all too cheap to get an international plan. They finally grudgingly agreed, but when we learned all of the shops closed at 4:00, we were somewhat nervous about whether we might be stranded in this rather desolate area.

Here is Claudia and Betsy goofy in front an ironworks shop.

The arts were cool, especially Mdina Glass works, the largest operation. We had to walk up a harrowing road to get there. Did I mention the drivers are kind of crazy and the sidewalks sketchy, if at all. We got back to the village, made some purchases after all these were handmade crafts. And still had over an hour to kill. The toilets were manned by unauthorized attendants whom Betsy paid a dollar to show us where the toilet paper was. This was a man, mind you. After we peed a woman came in to show us which one faucet worked.

We watched everyone close up shop, clear out, and drive away. The Hop On Hop Off bus worriedly made a pass and we waved them on. One lone backpacker walked through as we waited. It seemed longer but our cab got there within five minutes of our requested time and except for his interest in buying 'tactical arms' was a just fine ride.

We dined al fresco on the veranda this evening and it was simply lovely.

Travels blog day two

We lost six hours over the Atlantic over night so we left Chicago at 4 pm and passed through the night very quickly (dark), and 8 long hours later arrived in Frankfurt at 7am. Barely napped, had the window seat which you don't want because every time I want to pee or stretch I have to ask the poor German boy to get up. Had restless legs, hip aching, and The Great Wall for a movie. What was Matt Damon thinking? This aircraft was humongous, 10 seats across and a second floor.

We got through Frankfurt just fine and Betsy bought still water (distilled) and medium water (kinda bubbly). Then 2.5 more hours to Malta. When the flight attendant announced we had arrived the passengers actually applauded. Betsy had reserved a cab online and sure enough our guy was waiting at the exit with her name on a sign. 10 minutes to the Ambassador's residence, and armed guards at the locked gate. We basically have the lower level to ourselves and can walk right out to the pool.

The parlor upstairs on our first day.

This was on the front page of the newspaper when we got up one morning:

Our Ambassador and host Kathleen! 

Travelblog Day One

I left for Springfield Capital Airport at 7 am. I listened to Spingfield's oldies on the way - things like ELO's Telephone and Easy Like Sunday mo o o o o orn ing. I'm not gonna lie I missed Adam on the drive and just being in Springfield. I met a nice lady at the airport, she was actually younger than me but retiring from the Sangamon sheriff's department next year. I remembered my last (only) encounter with them being over Adam's death...

I saw a first this morning, a crop dusting helicopter!

Now I am waiting for Betsy and Ethan in O'Hare. I forgot how many damn people there are in Chicago. I found a quiet space and 30 minutes of free wifi. And when did dogs in airports become a thing? Okay there's a tattoo guy sleeping in front of me but at least he doesn't snore.

Not knowing what else to bring our host Kathleen, I picked up some of Chicago's favorite Garrrett's popcorn (cheese and caramel mix) and a Rocky Mountain English toffee apple. And I still have 2.5 hours until our flight to Frankfurt. Trump better not mess this up.

PS when did the 70 and 80's become oldies? I thought music of the 60's and maybe 70's was old...

Here is us waiting for our flight to Malta in the Frankfurt Airport:

Dreams and such

Adam did come to me again, this time in a dream about Little Saigon Restaurant. It wasn't as personal, but at least he was there. This morning in the mail Adam got a letter from Film Streams. I don't know how he got on this mailing list, or why he used his home address, and I don't remember these things coming before he died. Oh the wonders...

2 a.m.

I woke up and went downstairs. I thought I heard Adam crying on the couch, but he was talking on a cell phone, mumbling to someone. I tried to be all casual and went to eat some cereal. Then he was talking on a house phone to our great Uncle Lawrence or somebody like that. He was in the old TV room on the couch, and I sat down and we were talking and I'm trying to figure this out so I go, "Are you really here?" He goes, "Yeah." I asked how and he said he flashed a flashlight on the bed spread design. I was confused so he said, "You know when I was in the hospital in Camp Point and there was a portal there? I came through that."

I was trying to figure out how I was going to explain this to everyone when we had funeral and everything. He was real happy and comfortable, like it was no big deal and people would understand portals...and then I woke up.

Adam, please come back to me!

5th of July

I don't know why I am getting this sinking feeling, like something is wrong. While doing yoga this morning, I began trying to imagine how it felt when Adam was alive, I was the mother of his adult self, and he was living life in Springfield, working at Little Saigon, fairly satisfied with his life, or so I thought. Maybe it was me that felt satisfied. He was independent, never asked for a thing, answered his phone 'usually,' answered texts and emails regularly, visited often enough. Never gave a clue when something was wrong, always a stoic and impermeable emotional front.

I also began obsessing about when I found out he was gone: 2:30, Tuesday, 2-2-2016.  A lot of twos and T's... that takes me to the place of thinking about how many days he lay there, when he shot himself, why he did it.

This is not a place I like to go.

July 4th

Good morning! Up at 5:00 a.m. on a holiday, what's the deal?

Maybe it's because of my upcoming vacation to Malta, or maybe the 4th today, but I have been thinking more than usual about Adam, popping up little thoughts, images and memories in my mind. It's still hard to believe he won't be celebrating today.

Fourth of July has never been my holiday, but whenever possible, Adam would spend it with his grandparents and dad at Riverside Lakes in Nebraska. Bill and I were never big on fireworks, but Riverside Lakes and the rest of the Tuttle clan take homemade fireworks displays to a new level. I think the Tuttles probably kept me shielded from what was really taking place. I saw (and heard) it for myself one year when Cal and I stopped over on our way home from a trip to North Dakota.

I was tired from driving and had a terrific headache and the banging was going on all day and night. I remember hiding in a back room of the basement trying to get some sleep and hoping no one would get hurt. Adam was at ease sitting on the retaining wall above the beach lighting off bottle rockets, M-80's, Roman candles, and lady fingers. He was around 17, and I guess he was well-schooled over the years by his uncles and Grandpa Tuttle.

I can't remember if we drove Adam back to Illinois, or were just stopping in because we were in the neighborhood. Anyway, this holiday will always remind me of Adam enjoying his time with his dad's side of the family. A piece of him will always be there.

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"

It's October 25th, and I don't know where this month has gone. There have been highs and lows, as usual, one of the lows being a trip to Springfield to visit a doctor. The GPS took us from the doctor past the house on Burton Street, past Little Saigon and all the memories of Adam those places contain. We proceeded to the mall, and while waiting for Pat to use the restroom in the food court area, I had the most profound sense of sadness for all the times we met there, ate there, shopped there. H & M next door was a favorite store, and Teavana where he bought my last Christmas present. I thought of him walking that mall shopping for us a year ago, and how thoughtfully he chose our gifts in 2015 in particular. I'm sure we all treasure those last momentos handed from him to us the last time we saw him.

After this sad day, I really needed to see Cal, and drove over to Blo No on that Sunday. I made him recount a couple of times he spent with Adam, and he shared a Snap Chat app where he put Adam's eyes onto his face, and they were actually alive. He thought it might freak me out, but it was comforting to me.



A sign that was given to Pat on 10/20/16, that exact evening after travelling to Springfield:

 I was randomly digging in the yard last night. Pulling weeds, moving plants etc. I put the shovel in the ground and hit something unusual. Upon further investigation, i discovered an old toy army jeep that Adam must have buried 20 years ago. Simple as they were, he loved these toys. Since his untimely passing, there have been some odd unexplainable occurrences. Makes your mind wonder at times. I could only think he was sending me a message of some sort that everything is good! My mind immediately thought only positive thoughts and for this I felt some relief. He had an active imagination and used these toys to pretend and expand his world. How I would love to have shared this story with him if he were still here. Things in life are different in life for a "surviving parent". I'm choosing to use these oddities in a positive way. Love you Nuke...keep me wondering.

Here's the little guy...

The phrase that keeps going through my mind lately is, "he decided to take himself out (of this world)" and just sitting with that thought. This past week, a neighbor and former wrestling coach and dad of Adam's childhood friend Derek, passed away. I am picturing Adam greeting him to the other world and Kevin smiling and giving him some encouraging words.

Dark and Light

Words of Kelley Quinn,labyrinth creator, spoken at our first Out of the Darkness Walk in Macomb/McDonough County Illinois:

Autumn is a season of paradox. As the leaves change color and the air grows crisp, we are invited to release and surrender what no longer works for us, to shed old ways, to clear space for the new.

In this season of change, autumn also invites us to gather the harvest, to celebrate in the bounty of what we have planted and watered, to name and share our abundance with others.

In holding these two ideas in tension, we are reminded that in letting go and releasing we also find abundance.

Autumn is also a time of reflection. At this time of the year, with equal night and day, we are reminded of the balance of light and dark within ourselves. We are invited to look at darkness not as something to fear but as a place where slow steady growth of the soul can occur.

On the labyrinth we can trust that we can walk to the center of our souls and not get lost. We can trust that we can follow the path out from complete darkness into the light with the gifts we have gained from the center. And we can trust that no matter how dark the path may seem, or how difficult the journey, we are never on the path alone.

My words:

I am profoundly grateful for a successful first Out of the Darkness Walk. Despite a drizzling rain, the participation and money raised for suicide prevention is overwhelming. Best of all, I was able to stay in the moment more than I thought I would. Team Tut consisted of 21 friends and family of Adam.

I have met some incredible people on this journey and had some amazing experiences. I have gone out of my comfort zone to speak to groups, individuals, and the media about my loss of Adam to suicide. But I would give it all back in a heartbeat to have one more day with Adam; to make sure he knows I love him, that no problem is too big to solve, that I would do anything to help him. 

Last night I went to bed with that content and satisfied feeling of love and support I had the night of Adam's memorial service. In spite of the profound sense of loss, there is hope and goodness in the world that I can hold onto. This is for you, Adam.

Monarchs and Burr Oaks

I am grateful for a butterfly. My day started at 4:00 a.m. At some point, I opened an envelope containing Adam's last notes, and I was compelled to re-read those painful words.  I shed a few more tears while walking around the track at the Y. Earlier in the week, I was catapulted back to 1992 (?) when I heard the new country mash-up of "I Will Always Love You," "Country Roads," and "On the Road Again." Adam absolutely hated when we would sing along with Whitney Houston's version of  IWALY which played on the radio seemingly every five minutes when he was about 4. He would yell at us to "Stop Singing!!"

Looking at my calendar I realized I had been invited at 11:30 to a tree planting by Adam's high school class of 2006. A friend Max conceived and collected money from classmates at their recent reunion for a tree and plaque to be placed at Macomb High School in memory of classmates they have lost. I arrived early and watched the process and learned the steps to successful tree planting from Max's dad, the city arborist, however this was not an official duty, but done out of love. He was assisted by Michael T, stepping in for Max who has moved to the state of Vermont and couldn't see this happen. Another classmate Sarah G attended to remember her friend Suzie R who was killed in a car accident the summer after 8th grade.

I was able to sprinkle some of his ashes and a note in the hole before it was filled. Tim had remembered planting a tree in front of our house many years ago, and Adam slipping a note into the hole with his name on it. It was really sweet how he said Adam could now rest here, too.

The tree is a Burr Oak (also spelled Bur); no pretty fall colors, but a strong, large, shady native tree, one of Tim's favorites. As they were staking the tree, a Monarch butterfly passed over, a fitting sign.

Michael T and Tim H 

Sarah, Michael, me, Tim

Max's mom Suzan N served as photographer and supporter. 

Grilled Cheese

I learned a few things last weekend from Adam's friends. His usual order at Red Robin was a Tavern Double, no mayo, no cheese. Typical Adam. Betsy and I ordered the Tavern Double with onion straws in his honor.

So, Adam wouldn't eat anything with cheese; mac and cheese, cheeseburgers, casseroles with cheese, tacos with cheese. EXCEPT grilled cheese and pizza with cheese.

Ashleigh (Adam's roommate) told me last weekend, he never let anyone make his grilled cheese, and he had a special dedicated grilled cheese pan.

Here's how a typical visit from Adam would begin.  No matter the time of day or night, somewhat sheepishly he would say, "Mom, could you make me two grilled cheese?" Whatever bread was on hand, (always wheat) and plain old American cheese, one slice per sandwich, fried in a pan with butter. Oh, I forgot. He didn't put butter on anything, EXCEPT grilled cheese. It was one of the few things Adam allowed me to do for him, and I enjoyed doing it. Doesn't every mom love to feed their kid?

September Sunday

For some reason this fall I am remembering a lot of events I experienced last fall: the start of school, a Labor Day parade, Al Sears Jazz Festival, attending Ethan's performance of Man of LaMancha, visiting my friend in New Town, tidying up the Japanese way, watching Making a Murderer, ordering Yankee candles from Cal to make money for his Guatemala trip, followed by the thought, "when Adam was alive." This may have been around the time last year when Adam met Bella. There are more heartbreaking milestones coming up to get through in this journey I wish I weren't on.

Here is some of the Springfield gang February 6, 2016 after Adam's memorial service.

Here are some of the same peeps, seven months and a few days later, gathering to honor Adam at Springfield's Out of the Darkness Walk. It was wonderful and humbling to be with these friends, even though my only wish is that we could have been together with Adam having fun.

I am now left with the sad hangover I get after visiting Springfield and Adam's friends who I only got to know after his passing. I can only imagine how strange and awful it must feel to have a lost a friend at such a young age. I pray for these young adults and am grateful for their love and support in these trying times.

OOTD

Time is charging forward, and I am laser focused on the upcoming Out of the Darkness Walk for Macomb/McDonough County. I just read the heartbreaking story of another young life lost (friend of a friend of a sister-in-law in NH). When will it end?

What started as my attempt to comfort myself by creating an event aimed at supporting survivors of suicide loss and my need to put something in place so that my Adam would not be forgotten, has morphed into a semi-permanent labyrinth that anchors me to Adam.

The symmetry and beauty of this place amazes me. If others can find comfort in the labyrinth and/or this event, it will bring me great satisfaction. If we succeed in preventing suicide in some small way, even better.

Labyrinth at sunset by Sharon Walters Knight.

I am proud of this guy. I probably didn't say this enough but that's another story.

Adam hadn't lived at home since the summer of 2010. He went back to Springfield that fall to complete a required internship for his psychology degree. I helped him connect with the Illinois office of the National Alliance on Mental Illness. One project he worked on was preparing written guidance for videos developed to help teens learn about depression and other mental health disorders. He was proud of this work and provided me with copies that I used with my high school students.

In the spring he had to finish one ECCE class to graduate which he did in May 2011. ECCE classes are Engaged Citizenship Common Experience, a set of courses tied to UIS’ heritage, mission, vision, and values. That's when he began working at Kiku and later Little Saigon. 

I don't remember Adam ever asking for money or help with anything financial after that point. He bought his own cars and took care of his mishaps. In short, he took care of his own business. I know he wanted a professional job in psychology in the worst way, but we were pleased he was supporting himself and working hard to do so. It limited his time with us, especially since restaurant work requires weekend hours. He always made the time, and was always home for holidays and short visits in between. 

I'm pretty sure it was Memorial Day of 2013 (the day I got a call Uncle Cal died), that I had gone down to Springfield for the day to prepare a cookout with Adam and his friends. I was excited to finally meet some of his friends, and that he wanted to share this with me.  Unfortunately, a bad storm came up, and we went out to eat instead at one of his favorite places, the totally old school Chesapeake. This choice surprised me a little; it looks like one of those places my parents would have gone to: low ceilings, wood paneling, fishing gear on the walls, "cocktails" for those who partake, baked potatoes with butter and sour cream, you know the kind. When the check came, I remember vividly that he insisted on paying. That's when I knew something had changed, and he was really an adult. It was honestly a very important moment for me as a parent. 

I don't think I took our time for granted. I do wish I had seen where Adam's dreams would have taken him; teaching ESL in another country, grad school, working with vulnerable populations....I pray every night he has found the peace and freedom he was looking for.

This past Friday and Saturday I attended a spiritual retreat in Cedar Rapids, IA. Part of the process was painting and crafting what I called my 'soul cottage.' They called it a house, but I kept seeing signs for Cottage Grove this and that around Cedar Rapids and that was a street I lived on in Des Moines so many years ago, and so cottage resonated with me more than house. Friday evening the leaders said we could bring in a momento to add to the collage, and I was disappointed that I didn't know ahead of time, or I would have brought something to remember Adam in the painting. 

That evening before bed, Julie (my friend who had invited me to share this experience) came into my room and gave me an envelope of pictures her mom had saved, and carefully documented name, place, time on the backs (except for this one): 

I of course knew this was taken at my brother Chris' wedding in 2002 in New Hampshire. What I wasn't sure was why my friend's mom had it (she and I live in Julie's and my hometown and became friends in our own right when I moved back here 20 years ago). Julie's mom had passed on last April and her father moved out of their home, carefully making packets to deliver to people of things they might make more use of than he. Well, I knew immediately this family photo would be part of my creation. How serendipitous was this?

Stage 1 was assessing our mental, emotional, physical and spiritual status (rooms) and writing that with Sharpie on a piece of foam insulation (like the construction theme going here?). You can see that peeking through:

Stage 2 was me painting with blue and green, and then Julie bringing her red and yellow and applying it to my piece.

In Stage 3 we got either black or white paint and a tool of some sort. I had  black and a sea sponge; Julie had white and the flower stamp:

We got to go around to everyone's painting in the room and add our mark. This was difficult for some people but I was into letting it flow. Then the crafting up began, with each adding our house and embellishments, and a paint wash if desired.

Here is my completed work. See if you can find the cherished family photo:

As we gathered to share with each other what was created and the meaning behind it, Adam's death came spilling out of me, in this cozy conversation corner:

It was cathartic without taking over the room. I felt supported and accepted by these mostly moms of young adults. One woman approached me in the bathroom afterwards and shared that she had seen me struggle with my emotions as another woman shared about her relationship with her young adult son. She hugged me and later asked me what Adam was like as a kid which made me feel pretty special.

The retreat ended with sharing a meal at one leader's gorgeous home. What a lovely way to wrap up a fantastic weekend.

8-2-16

Guest Blogger: my baby boy Calvin

6 Months Later

(8-2-16)

            To say the last six months of my life have been the roughest I’ve experienced would be an understatement. What started off as a normal day during my senior year at ISU quickly turned into an unforgettable nightmare. After a puzzling text message around 3:30 PM followed by a few phone calls I was informed that my oldest brother, Adam (27), had taken his own life in Springfield. My parents then said that they were on their way to Bloomington-Normal to be with me and my brother, Eli (22). I immediately started pacing around my apartment with my hands on my head not knowing what to do. My roommate who is my best friend asked what was wrong and I told him that my brother had just died. He immediately e-mailed his teacher and said that he could not go to class that day so that he could be with me which I was extremely grateful for. Still in complete shock, I heard my phone vibrate and it was my brother Eli returning my call from earlier. The moment I told him that Adam was no longer with us was the first time it actually hit me that our big brother was gone. I waited for 20 minutes for Eli to get to my apartment and when we saw each other for the first time we embraced each other and I could feel his body shaking as we hugged and did not let go. We laid on my bed for a few hours and waited for my parents to arrive; tears, nothing but tears ran down our faces for two hours as we sat there confused and in dismay. Eventually my mom and dad arrived at a nearby hotel and Eli and I made the walk over to see them. I entered the room and immediately hugged both of my parents and could feel the tension looming in the air. It was a surreal moment in my life; sitting in the hotel room with my family wondering what had just happened and where we go from here. After hours of speculation and crying we got some dinner and my parents went to bed and Eli and I went back to our apartments which were located in the same building. Coincidentally, one of my good friends from home was in Bloomington and heard the news from my dad’s Facebook post and came over to comfort me for the night as well as a friend from school. As I cried myself to sleep that night, I knew that my life would be forever changed as of 2-2-16.

            Waking up the next morning it was as if someone had stabbed me in the heart. The realization of it all came that morning when I woke up and it wasn’t a bad dream, it was real life. My brother was gone and I would never see him again. I would never get to watch NBA basketball with him, never get to have an argument, my future children would never get to meet their uncle. It all hit me like a brick wall that morning, I was absolutely devastated and did not know how I would move forward. That night I made a Facebook post in memory of my brother and was bombarded with over 100 text and Facebook messages. I had to use a generic thank you response that I had copied and pasted so that I could keep up with all of the overwhelming support. Despite everyone showing their love to me that night, it almost felt as if I couldn’t take it all in. There were people I had barely known or did not even have their number telling me they had attempted suicide before or knew someone that committed. That night was a blur to me but I still to this day remember the people who took the time to send very detailed texts that showed that they truly cared about me.

            A few days later was Adam’s funeral in Macomb. Throughout these last six months I have had nights where I feel isolated and alone and can do nothing but cry for hours on end thinking about my brother. Different memories come to me. The phone call I got from my mom, hugging Eli for the first time, waking up the next morning, and most of all the funeral. Driving as a family to my brother’s funeral was something I never thought I would experience. As we stood in line and greeted people as they walked in I encountered several people who I recognized from my childhood. Seeing Adam’s roommate Tim and embracing him was the first time I got emotional that day. We hugged each other and immediately both started sobbing. Seeing some of my close friends there meant the world to me. My cousin Ethan playing the piano and singing was one of the most beautiful things I had ever heard and I know Adam was looking down on him and smiling. The day went on and the support was amazing. We had so much food we joked that it was the first time in history I could find something to eat in the house.

            Let’s flash forward to present day. Six months have gone by without my brother and it doesn’t get any easier. Little things will trigger emotions such as someone saying, “I just want to kill myself,” or someone pretending to shoot themselves in the head. It is the little things like that that keep my emotions ultra-sensitive. One of the best things I have been told was that I am going to live a life that honors my brother. I try to do the right things in every situation in life and sometimes I imagine my brother standing right next to me and he gives me the motivation to accomplish anything. Anytime I need a little help I picture my brother pushing me and I always get whatever needs to be done, done. As the days pass, I still think about Adam walking through the door and greeting me with a handshake. The harsh reality of it all is that it will never happen and my family and I will have to move on with our lives. Adam was a great young man that I looked up to and always wanted to be like. His untimely death shook those of us close to him very hard. With that being said, we must learn from it and make the world a better place because of it. If you need help, ask for it. If you have questions, ask them. This life is too short not to speak up and out for yourself which is why I encourage anyone reading this to not be afraid to get help if you need it. My brother Adam affected a lot of lives during his time on Earth and I want to make it my mission to help as many people as I possibly can. Please, tell the people close to you that you love them because you might not know if it will be the last time you’ll get to tell them.

-Cal Denecke