On Memory and Forgetting

After our weekly Sunday chat (Mom, Dad, Betsy and me), I thought, "This could be a Family News article." Every Sunday conversation contains at least one instance of Dad bemoaning the lack of Family New submissions and the technology hurdles he has encountered (but that's another story- and one to raise my blood pressure, which I am trying to lower [but that's yet another story]).

This story here starts with my report that Pat has lately become concerned about developing early Alzheimer's. His mother has some form of dementia, but it wasn't a particularly early onset. We then talked about how most people of a certain age, do worry about this so Betsy decided to give us a memory test of three items to be recalled later (or not): helmet, picture, dog.

The conversation meandered and Dad mentioned he will be going into his "rabbit hole" when Mom's sewing club comes over tomorrow. He went on to say he favors this name over "man cave" because he once had a shirt he was very proud of that had a rabbit on it rather than an alligator. This was at the height of the Preppy style. His old friend Charlie Mayer used to remark on it and dubbed himself "the fox" and Dad "the rabbit." I was quick to point out this was a sought after Albuquerque (never before told story/tale) as opposed to the dreaded Minneapolis (previously or recently or especially oft repeated story). Albuquerques are hard to come by as we all age.

Shortly thereafter, in all innocence, Dad began one of his famous Minneapoli about how he doesn't like to see men kissing on TV. In an effort to stop the direction this was going I blurted out, "Has anyone read James Lee Burke?" since they all love mysteries, and I hate them. Betsy immediately spoke up, "Dave Robicheaux, I love him!" Mom and Dad both claimed they "never heard of" either. Betsy then chimed in, "I recorded myself reading an entire novel of his for you guys and you said you liked it. Blank silence. "New Orleans, detective...?" They both then vaguely claimed they remembered. Note of defense: this was over 20 years ago when they were living on Calhoun Street.

Are you ready for the results of the Memory Test? Here they are after about 50 minutes:

Dad: helmet, dog
Susan: helmet, picture, bike, bicycle
Mom: helmet, picture, dog

So who's worried now?

Moving Forward and About

Today Pat and I moved my mom’s Queen mattress set to our house. We are hoping this is the last moving we do for a while. Mom had casually mentioned wanting to get a new bed last spring, and offering me or my kids her old bed, which has been fairly lightly used. This finally came to fruition today. (Never mind she doesn’t have a bed to sleep on now…*)

The past year and a half have involved more change and movement than I care to think about.  2016 started with the terrible news of Adam’s suicide in February. We were shaken to our core, but soon learned life keeps moving. Eli graduated college in May 2016 followed by Cal in December 2016. Both earned teaching degrees and credentials. Eli married the love of his life Hannah on June 4, 2016. Our lives were enriched as Hannah joined our family, while we continued to grieve in our own ways Adam’s not being here to celebrate the milestones together. Eli took a teaching job close to Macomb and the newlyweds got their first apartment together. Some of our furniture moved in with them. We acquired more to fill in the spaces. With Eli and Cal venturing out into the world, and knowing Adam would never return home, Pat eventually cleaned out and redecorated all three of their bedrooms.

I now have a sunny yellow meditation room and a deep blue guest room. I slept in Adam’s old room for over a year, and it has recently been repurposed a dark green to house our part time guest, Regine, a graduate student from Cameroon.

I was lucky to be able to travel and help move Eli and Hannah earlier this month to Gainesville, FL where they will both be graduate assistants and earning their Master degrees (trumpet performance and musicology respectively).  This necessitated some more furniture moving and giving away of pieces. Cal quickly followed with equipping his first solo apartment in Lincoln, IL with several large items from our house, including his bed. He will be teaching 7^th graders social studies and geography and coaching 3 sports.

It is exciting and satisfying to see my ducklings take flight, but of course we will miss having them close and dependent on us. All this moving and rearranging and reorganizing brings emotions of pride, happiness, and sadness for the new lives that are starting, and the one that has ended. The good days outweigh the dark days, but know that Adam is never far from my thoughts, even if I look or feel “fine.”

Some things I have learned (and re-learned) through these changes: appreciate the little things (clean sheets, a beautiful sunset, cooler weather, legs and arms that can ride a bicycle, the ability to pay a bill), ask for help and accept it, let your emotions be okay, take time for yourself to be quiet and take a risk or two.

I recently spoke to the Macomb Rotary Club about the Out of the Darkness Walk. It was terrifying to stand in front of a large group and speak my truth about Adam and suicide. But, I will not stay silent and pretend suicide cannot affect anyone. Two fathers of boys from Adam’s high school class were in the audience. A dialogue was started within the meeting, and I was approached afterwards with meaningful sharing. My heart felt so full after doing this.

When I attended my first Out of the Darkness Walk in 2013, it was with my dear cousin Laurie in mind. I never thought I would be touched by suicide again, or in such a profound way. I started Macomb’s first Out of the Darkness Walk in 2016 to honor Adam’s memory, to cope with my own grief, and to do something about preventing suicide from bringing down more lives. I will again be coordinating the Macomb Walk September 23^rd and walking in the Springfield, IL Walk October 14.  I would appreciate your prayers, thoughts, support, or donations at www.macombwalk.org , www.springfieldwalk.org or by mail to 417 E. Calhoun St. Macomb, IL 61455 for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP).

*lest you think I left my mother bed-less, she chose to procrastinate buying a new bed and will be sleeping on a hide-a-bed, stating that she won’t get a new bed until she gets sick of sleeping in the living room

Labor Day of Yore

I keep getting these flashback photos on Facebook to ----years ago. I do enjoy it. So here is one from Labor Day Weekend 2014 in Louisville:

I literally just learned a new trick. I was looking for the picture I had saved to my desktop to upload, and it wasn't there. When I went back to my desktop it was there, so I reduced down my blog and drug the picture onto the page. Wow, so much easier than the steps of uploading. 

Anyway, this particular Labor Day Eli, Cal, Hannah and I somehow got to Betsy's house the same weekend Chris, Donna and Megan were there. By somehow, I know we drove, but don't know who came from where. Eli was entering his sophomore year at ISU and Cal and Hannah were frosh at Spoon and WIU. Wait, that's totally wrong. Eli was a senior and Cal and Hannah juniors. Cal had just transferred to ISU then. We went to that weird Bluegrass and Whiskey Festival on Sunday. 

Even if Adam wouldn't have normally spent this holiday with family, it still makes me sad that he can't join us this year. I found myself unable to sleep last night, unable to nap today, rehashing painful memories in step by step detail. I managed to keep myself busy when I decided I didn't want to dwell there too long. 

Traditions

I am hoping to start a new tradition, but don't tell my kids. Here it is (drum roll)...

A weekly letter, parcel, surprise to my kids. 

That didn't sound too exciting did it? It's kind of a family tradition that started with Betsy's and my Family News circa 1974 (which my dad has lovingly taken over long ago). Next was the weekly Sunday letter to China, which would arrive months later. Then I resurrected the Family News when my kids were young and I felt so far away in Buffalo. 

It's only been two weeks and so far so good. I think they enjoyed getting something via snail mail. Never mind I don't think Cal knows to check his mailbox on a regular basis; this new generation! They think everything comes electronically. And it practically does. Everything except love from your mama.

**Please note my sidebar and a new blog that has been added called Stories from Heliotrope U. This blog is written by my dad's old friend Loren. They shared an office in the WIU English Department many moons ago. He's a great guy, swell storyteller, and English master extraordinaire, so get out your dictionary and give him a read. 

The Rip Tide

There's a song called The Rip Tide by Beirut. It came up on a "mixed tape" Eli made me that I was listening to on my long trip (15 hours) from Gainesville to Louisville 8/7/17. Wow, it makes me weep. It has nothing to do with Adam really, except it was also on my Ipod when I walked the YMCA track almost every evening after Adam's death. It's haunting beauty ripped my heart out then and now. I have to admit after moving Eli and Hannah to Florida, it felt a little like another loss. Here are the lyrics:

And this is the house where I

I feel alone

Feel alone now

And this is the house where I

Could be unknown

Be alone now

Soon the waves and I found the rolling tide

Soon the waves and I found the rip tide

This is the house where I

I feel alone

Feel alone now

And this…

It was funny for this song to come up after a day at the beach. Sunday I was body surfing the Atlantic waves, jumping and chasing bigger waves, drifting further down the beach, when suddenly I found I couldn't touch down anymore and was further out than I thought (nothing really dangerous my rational mind knew). I decided I should start swimming to shore, but didn't seem to be making any progress. Suddenly the thought came, "Could I be in a rip tide and not know it? in which case I should be swimming parallel to shore...No, that's ridiculous." But still, I had that moment of panic. 

This morning I sat out on my back stoop, a ritual I had in the aftermath of Adam's death, for the first time in a long time. The carpet beneath me was wet from last night's rain, and I didn't stay long. On the drive down to Florida I was emotional then realized it was 8/2/17, 18 months since my best boy ended his life. My special boy was moving to Florida to start his new life, and truly I am grateful and excited for this adventure. 

Yesterday I spoke at the morning Rotary group about the upcoming Out of the Darkness Walk and why it is important to me. Looking out I saw two fathers of boys that went to school with Adam. It is incredibly difficult for me to do this, but I am not going to let that stop me from shining the light on this topic. 

I've been back to reality almost two weeks, and it seems like there is nothing to write about. My kitchen is clean, bills paid, coffee in hand, and a blank mind.

I was going to write the backstory of how I came to stay at the US Ambassador's residence in Malta, and barring no other topics today, I will proceed. My sister went to college at the University of Denver back in the 80's, and I followed her out right after I got married the first time in 1985. She had met a nice group of friends in her dorm, and they remained friends throughout their time there. Kristin was her first roommate and continued to be her roommate for several years. She was Adam's first babysitter. Claudia was a viola major from Colorado who later landed in the Chicago area after attending Northwestern for her Masters and works as a professional musician. Kathleen was also from Colorado, and she continued to grad school at Columbia and joined the State Department in 1994. She has been working her way up the ranks since then, working with John Kerry when he was Secretary of State. She was recommended for the Ambassadorship sometime in 2015, and was confirmed in January 2016. Betsy and Claudia attended the hearing and swearing ceremony in Washington, DC. Correct me if I'm wrong, Betsy.

Betsy has always been a loyal friend and family member and makes efforts to sustain and nurture relationships. It's one of her many great qualities. I was lucky enough to tag along on her trip to Malta and was made to feel very welcome, safe and relaxed on this vacation of a lifetime- MY JACKIE O. HOLIDAY, as my friend Sharon called it.

Day 8

It was sad to get up this morning (Saturday July 15) and know that I am leaving Malta. Betsy, Ethan and Claudia are staying until Monday. I will be traveling international by myself for the first time. To say I was nervous is a slight exaggeration...suffice it say I barely slept the night before and all my clogged digestion problems were resolved.

I snapped this shot on my way out of the armored Surburban, good-bye safety and security (jk).

My taxi arrived early before 10 a.m. Only took 20-25 minutes to get to the airport. I ended up two hours early in the tiny airport waiting. Flight was on time, and landed successfully in Frankfurt. I passed Frankfurt passport control without incident or 'meanness' by the German guard. I got to my gate in plenty of time (2 hours layover) to spend the last of my Euros on trinkets.

The 747-8 jet was fully booked and they asked for volunteers to check carry-ons, and I was trying to be helpful and went for it. It was pretty heavy and large anyway. At check in I asked for aisle seats so I could get up without bothering somebody. I was in the next to last row, but on the aisle, so I was greatly relieved. Also, close to the bathroom. Lufthansa serves some pretty good meals (two per 8 hour flight). Since it was 5:15 pm when we boarded, I thought dinner would be served pretty soon, and I was ravenous having only eaten a small yogurt and two small peanut butter cookies our housekeeper provided. No such luck, we had a snack and a late dinner, but it was delicious- chicken breast, creamed spinach, potatoes, salad, roll, and dessert.

I watched "A Single Man" without the volume which was really a beautiful cinematic movie I had seen previously. I then watched and listened to the History of Chicago Transit Authority band. This helped drown out the intermittent child screaming and the Zika virus coughing, sneezing and nose blowing that was incessant. I then put on "Kong: Skull Island" with very low volume and dosed maybe 45 minutes.

I was beginning to wonder if I would regret not having my carry-on when we got to Chicago and had to clear customs, with only a two hour layover. The lines were long, and I mean ridiculous, to get to the self serve kiosks where you scan your passport and declare any hazardous items. I quickly was checked through customs finally, grabbed my carry-on off the carousel, and re-checked my bag to Springfield. I was told Terminal 2, gate F4. I knew about the train to the terminals and it was pretty convenient, but I was starting to worry about the time. When I got off at Terminal 2, and tried to enter  security, the lines were all closed and one lady was luckily packing up her stuff. I asked how do I get into Terminal 2. She told me to go over to Terminal 1, and walk back. GREAT! Now I am starting to sweat and run back to the train.

Guess what? I was outside security and had to wait and go through the whole process of being scanned and checked. Now the time is getting short...but the lines were moving and at least my plane wasn't set to take off for about 25 more minutes (unlike another nerd like me who went to Terminal 2 and had to go back on the train-  everyone else must have gotten the secret message).

As I start running back to the other terminal, I glance quickly at the board and my flight is already boarding. I make it to gate F4 and straight onto the plane. No air conditioning but hey, I've made all my connections by the skin of my teeth. We arrive in Springfield at 10:15 pm, but it is 4 am or past to me. I got my bag and headed towards what I thought was a hotel, but since there wasn't one on my way our of the airport, I headed home, listening to the oldies again and thinking about getting a smoothie at Beardstown McDonalds.

Once I consumed the smoothie, the driving got pretty tough. I was struggling to focus and keep my head lights from blinding oncoming cars. But I made it safely and into the shower and my bed.

It was a trip for the ages. Thank you for listening!

Day Seven in Paradise

I totally lost blog steam on Friday and was consumed with my digestive tract, not upset just extremely lethargic. I just invented the term Poop Lag (as opposed to Jet Lag). Kathleen took us on a fun day to Sliema for some shopping. This included the armored Suburban, two body guards and the tail car with two guards. I don't know why I am so fascinated with this? At the mall, two guards, one who was actually Malta police, followed her everywhere. I didn't see if they inspected the bathrooms before they let her enter. I'll try to remember to ask.

You can see Darren in the white shirt and unnamed police in the blue (click on picture
to enlarge) waiting for 

Kathleen outside a store. (I was kind of afraid to take their picture too close).

We walked the Strand with one of the guys in front and one behind Kathleen at all times.

At first we thought he was strategically placed behind a rock or wearing a thong but when he flipped over one of his balls got caught for a moment between his legs. Argh I hate when that happens.

I thought these rocks were really neat. They were cut to help trap salt.

Sliema Strand

It sure is nice when your Subrban drops you off at point A and picks you up at point B! We had a nice lunch at Mama Mia where the guards ate pizzas at a nearby table. The Suburban then dropped us tourists off at Mdina,  Mdina...Malta's oldest city, completely walled, situated inland and high above Valletta. It was surprisingly breezy and cool here.

St. Paul's Cathedral (built 1697-1702)

Mdina is one of Europe's finest examples of an ancient walled city and extraordinary in its mix of medieval and baroque architecture. The history of Mdina traces back more than 4000 years. According to tradition it was here that in 60 A.D. that the Apostle St. Paul is said to have lived after being shipwrecked on the Islands. Furthermore it is said that St. Paul resided inside the grotto know as Fuori le Mura (outside the city walls) now known as St. Paul's Grotto in Rabat. Lamp lit by night and referred to as "the silent city", Mdina is fascinating to visit for its timeless atmosphere as well as its cultural and religious treasures.

This photo is of St. Paul's Cathedral, and was actually built after St. John's (hence the moniker "Co-Cathedral) in Valletta, however I think that is due to having to rebuild.

We ended the day in residence having a sing along of show tunes with Claudia at the baby grand piano. Our singing was reminiscent of Florence Foster Jenkins, but we had fun.

The real club Med Day Six

So this happened: today was boat day and Kathleen's first day off. The Ambassador goes Nowhere without security so five of us and two guards piled into a black Suburban. But first it took all the security plus military guard with AK 47 to open the gate. Claudia took a series of hilarious pictures from inside the Suburban that made it look like they were all flogging someone on the ground. It was really a scream...

We were tailed by another black car with security who then stood at attention on the dock while others carried our coolers. We boarded the boat and only Joseph had to actually accompany us. I guess you get used to this when you are the Ambassador??

Here is where Joseph sat for 8+ hours, except when jumped in after Kathleen.

Our boat took off from the marina at Kalkara. We took a harbor cruise, then headed out to sea, forgoing the Blue Lagoon as the wind was not right to go that direction, and too many tourists swimming there anyway. I love old buildings and here is one on the waterfront that is slated to be renovated into shops on the lower level and flats up above.

Wouldn't this be a grand place to live?!

Our captain was the competent, kind and accommodating Alec, an ex-pat Brit who studied film and cinematography before the call of the sea became too strong. We saw many sites on our harbor tour, before reaching our private swimming cove. We got to help raise the sails, and I got to steer the boat. It was much more difficult than it looks. I got us pretty tippy a couple times before voluntarily relinquishing control. Before taking control back Alec goes, "you can turn the autopilot on now" and flipped a switch. Good learning experience.

The cove was not really private but was nearly deserted. I was first to jump off the boat into 6 meters of water you could see to the bottom of. I was surprised to see what looked like waving grass. I floated over to the nearby rocky area and was freaked out by the cushiony matter when I touched down on the rock. I slipped climbing up and broke my string of days without bruising my legs. Got a nasty one. I rescued a broken diving mask from littering the ocean then paddled back on my noodle.

Kathleen and Ethan were next out to explore what we dubbed the Azure porthole or portal if you prefer. Shortly after they swam off we see Joseph dash below deck then dive in after Kathleen. Apparently you can't let the Ambassador drown. When they got back, Ethan and I took off for another cove since Alec had now jumped in and we seemed to have plenty of time. This time I took goggles, and it was fascinating to explore the sea floor and underwater rocks. I also saved the ocean from a wooden clothespin. Just doing my part for the environment.

We took a leisurely cruise back and discovered more rocky swimming areas and one tiny beach. It's so unique how the Maltese mostly swim off the rocks, cliffs, and ledges. We saw a large shipping operation, and I napped and sunned on the deck and it was truly divine.

Back at the marina, we were met by our "team." BTW, security is local Maltese.We returned our cargo to the trunk where I noticed bullet proof vests and felt even more Bourne or Salt. I thought I was going to have to stop the brigade to hurl, but I made it without incident. Betsy and I stayed up late talking, and I felt my bed pitching all night, which was a pleasant sensation. I do love the rocking and everything about a boat.

Club Med Day Five

hello!

Today we went for a small boat ride to the Blue Grotto. This is what I've been missing- the clear blue Mediterranean Sea. We are staying and touring mostly inland, so this was thrilling to get out on the water. The only problem being, I didn't know we could swim there. People are climbing and jumping off the cliffs everywhere or just lounging on the rocks or in the sea. Then again maybe it was a good thing. Most all of them had hot little bodies. Ethan jumped and somersaulted in in his shorts. Good for him! Claudia and I thought he was in the porta potty with gastric distress for that half hour or so.

Here we are getting ready for our boat ride.

The porta potties are attended, too, just to keep you abreast of local toileting issues. So the Blue Grrotto has a perfect view of the islet of Filfla, jutting out of the Med and used for target practice by the Brits until 1970 when it was declared a nature sanctuary. Our driver claimed white sharks have their babies there and then travel on. Did not see any shark tank rentals for my sister and me to dive in, 47 Meters Down-style.

Our little boat to the grottos held about 8 people. The water and the cave structures were stunning. The pictures just can't do it justice, like most things. It was only about a half hour ride or less. Ate on the terrace above, an early lunch. I thought our Serbian waiter was tastier than the food.

The Blue Grotto 

Betsy and I entering the ephemeral light.

Our e-taxi arrived early to carry us to the Hagar Qim and Mnajdra temples built ca 3600 BC. The 4D movie offered the comfiest seat in all of Malta with cold air conditioning, cushions, wind, rain (mist) and surround sound. Didn't tell much about the temples. We walked the covered temples, contemplating the enormity and significance of it all, and Ethan and I hoofed it back up the hill. As we have come to say, "If Ruth can do it, so can I." Kathleen told us about Ruth Bader Ginsburg's (heretofore RBG) itinerary, at 85 after two bouts of cancer, and it put us all to shame. The temples were surely built on a stunning location.

Model of the Temples

The infamous hill between the two temple sites.

Back at the ranch, I took a dip then walked up to the market for provisions. Our chef Rodrigo is preparing us a Mexican feast with chorizo. I don't think that is commonly found here. It smells divine. And with that I am going to hop back in the moment and enjoy he rest of my day. Ciao xoxo

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.