shining through the darkness.

One year ago today, the worst happened. We were overwhelmed with darkness, but Dad's light shone through - even then. I spent two years living in fear, and then the scary, horrible nightmare happended. I lived in fear, and then I could rest - rest in the peace that the big question was answered - even though the answer was death.

That has been a hard thing to express and come to terms within the last year. I don't actually feel comfort in his death, but the fear is gone - and on some level, that brings relief.
The horrifying thing happened - and I survived it.

Pastor Nanette says not to run from the darkness. We could spend life distracting ourselves from the pain, but she says, "get in there" - let's show up to our own lives, even the dark stuff. Let's be courageous and brave and get comfortable with our heartache. Let's talk about it. Let's grieve. And, I think that's how we're supposed to be - present - existing in the dank, dark crap that happens in our lives and simultaneously accepting that there is something hopeful and powerful in this world connecting us to one another. You don't get over it, you get through it. And, not alone.

Thank you to so many of you who helped me through it.
I couldn't have survived this year without my family and friends.

Big thoughts after a year? I miss him.
That's all.
I just want to hear his voice,
and kiss his head,
and lean in on the couch,
and tell him about all the things he missed.

But, I am hopeful.
And, after the year I've had, I'd say that's success.

Retracing my footsteps in grief.

“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” - Anne Lamott

2/5/2014

I see the day coming like a freight train. As we approach the year anniversary, I find myself retracing the moments of that day.

I remember feeling such relief when the first early phone call came - the office was closing for the second day in a row. The snow was still thick on the road, and I was excited to close my eyes and fold myself back into my bed.
 

We had been practically living at the hospital for the previous ten days. Now, Dad was finally back home, and I was safe and warm in my bed. I did not have to go to KU Med. I did not have to drive downtown in the 14 inches of snow. I could stay in my bed - safe from harm.
 

The second phone call changed my life. I made Evan say it at least three times. Come home, he said. The doctor called. And Dad has just days left. I knew it wasn't a joke, but I still kept making him repeat it. I made him promise me it was the truth.

The drive was a blur. The roads were empty, and the snow deep. I felt numb.

I remember kneeling next to the recliner and Dad telling me that he was done fighting. I remember holding his hand, and kissing his head, and crying. He seemed just as surprised to be saying it as I was to be hearing it.

He made jokes. He made requests. We planned his funeral. Together.

We made calls - frantic calls. We felt desperate for support.

We huddled in groups crying and tried to keep him from seeing how messy and unraveled we were all becoming. The house started filling with loved ones, and at one point he even joked, "Is this the pre-party?"

I spent hours listening to the instructions of the hospice nurse. She ordered medicine, she told us what to expect. I sat at the table trying to listening carefully to her instructions, even though I wanted to be in the other room with him.

Friends visited. Food was dropped off. Facebook statuses were updated. Love expressed. Tears shed.

And, even though it was supposed to be coming... we didn't see it coming that evening. They had said days. He was just making a joke, and then - boom. The house erupted into panic and disorder - screaming and sobbing and shock. He was gone. I heard him tell the dog to be quiet, and then it overtook him. Suddenly and without warning. Not like the quiet, painful death they had been describing to us all day. He was with us - and then he wasn't.

A couple images cross my mind daily - my brother screaming out the front door, Pam picking me up off of the floor, Gary yelling down the street for my cousins to leave the kids in the car. And then the look on Matt's face. He was too late.

It was one of the most painful experiences of my life, yet I find myself searching for details of the day in my thoughts regularly. I have to remember the order in which it all happened, or somehow I don't honor him, or care, or have control over it. And, I like control.

This year has been an unending spiral of events that have forced me to let go of my expectations and simply breathe.

One day at a time.

Benjamin Craig

Well, he joined us almost a month ago and I am JUST now thinking about updating my blog! That shows you how busy life has been! I barely check my email, texts, facebook... what day is it anyway?!

In the last week, Benjamin has been allowing me some longer periods of rest, so I am functioning at a higher level, lol. No, really. Thank goodness this chunker keeps putting on weight and drinking big 'ol bottles before bed! My sleep should just get better and better.

Ben's arrival wasn't exactly as expected. I scheduled an induction, but ended up at the hospital that night in labor. I was contracting 3 minutes apart when we arrived at our scheduled time for induction... haha. We laughed that we would have arrived that the same time, even if we had never scheduled the induction. I guess we had intuition about the start of our labor??

I labored hard over night. I remember thinking that John needed his sleep, so I tried to keep quiet as the contractions worsened. I kept thinking I would wake him when it got worse... (I should have woken him up!) The nurse kept coming in and finding no progress with me... she kept turning me into these weird positions and my back and hip would pain from holding that position for the upcoming hour while she monitored me.  Turns out that our little one was having heart rate decelerations during each contraction. The nurse was getting worried.

By morning, I was having contractions one on top of the other without any break, but still no dialating! They were getting worried about his position, which they were determining might be not exactly head down... more of an angle into my hip...

I was given an epidural in the morning, followed by a bunch of doctors and nurses being brought in to give their opinions.... everyone was starting to look concerned, and I knew that a C-section was going to be brought up. I just knew it... when my water broke and it was full of meconium, that seemed to settle it for the entire team.

In the end, he came via C-section. The experience was not what I expected, and the recovery was much harder than anticipated, but he arrived healthy, and that was all that mattered.

The best part was hearing John yell out, "It's a boy!" What a crazy feeling to finally know! It felt so surreal.

Benjamin arrived on June 22nd and has been keeping us on our toes ever since!
7 lb, 7 oz and 20 inches long.
We've never been happier.
Named for the best man I never knew,
so you know,
he'll be a great man too.

before this & after this.

"There are moments that mark your life,
moments when you realize nothing will ever be the same.
And time is divided into two parts,
before this and after this."

The strangest part about navigating this new life without Dad is that I am about to encounter my next "before this and after this" point in my life - becoming a mother. Maybe these couple months in between will dissolve into a mushy part of my memory and these two events will collide into one big life change... what a strange part of my story, grasping to understand life and death all at once.

one month.

I can't believe it has been a month.

A month since I have seen my dad.

He was my biggest fan.

From my first steps, he was nothing but proud.

I was always proud he belonged to me too.

 

I will give you rest.

I didn't ever really think he would die. I knew that he had stage four cancer. I knew that it had spread to multiple locations throughout his body. I cried at least once a week for two years. I knew that as the ascites filled his body with fluid this fall that that couldn't be good. But, I still didn't think he would die. It might also be so soon still that I am still in shock and wouldn't be surprised if he appeared around the corner. Too little time has passed - and I am sure the loss will grow stronger.

On some level, even though we all want to deny our narcissism, our lives are really all about ourselves - even beyond the love of our families - we still come first. And, part of that innate narcissism is believing that - even beyond science and knowledge - that the horrible thing won't happen to you. That's how I felt. Even with all the information - Why me? Not now. It can't. Not my dad.

Be Not Afraid has been playing in my head all morning. It just came to me. Is that my dad? Is that God? I really do need some rest; and, I don't mean sleep.

Be not afraid

I go before you always

Come follow me

And I will give you rest

most of most heartbroken - the loss of my dad

We lost my Dad on February 5. It felt sudden, even though it shouldn't have.

He was diagnosed in November 2010, and we knew it metastasized in November 2011; but it still felt sudden, and shocking, and too short. Especially the last month. We really didn't know it was the end until that day; and even then, we were told "days." Words will never explain my heartbreak and sadness. I had a good one. I always knew it. From a young age, friends and even family told me they wished they had my dad. I didn't know when I was young how significant that was, but I realized as I grew. He was special, and I was lucky for it.

We celebrated his life on February 8. The service truly honored his life, and I continue to think back on it in such a positive way. Our pastor made the service personal - she took the time to really understand him and our family, and the entire service paid tribute to his well-lived life. Whenever I think on the darkness that was the night we lost him, I try to remind myself of that day. The day that the church was filled to the brim - the day that we sang, laughed, and cried for his special life. I have never seen so many people at a funeral, and they all left with a message of hope - a guide to live a good life: bus buddies and embarassing your family. I think we were all inspired.

I also ache for the baby in my belly who will have seven living great-grandparents, and not a grandfather. What a special relationship to miss out on. Luckily, I have a lot of other great men in my life who will show my child versions of that relationship - though never fully replacing him.

Thank you to friends and family who continue to hold us close in prayer - we need it. I know that death is a part of life, and that as Christians we believe that our earthly life is simply that - the physical here and now - the life we live that leads us to eternal life - but I am just another broken, flawed human who wants her daddy.

My dad's obituary can be found here. He was our most of most.



Caring Bridge for Dad

My dad has been feeling just horrible since the holidays. We spent the day in the ER - this morning they ran tests, then they told us he would be admitted... and then we waited six hours for a bed. Finally we got him settled into a room tonight. Hopefully we'll get some answers tomorrow. We've set up a Caring Bridge website for family and friends to keep updated on the status of his health. Thank you in advance for your hopeful thoughts and prayers.

Giving Tuesday

Cancer is the ugliest word in my world. It is affecting our lives daily. John and I both have parents fighting metastasized cancer - cancer so horrible it is attacking beyond the point of origin, making it harder to find treatments and harder to see the light at the end of the tunnel - making it hard for us to see into our futures - and obviously, making their lives hard, beyond what we can imagine. My father and his mother are fighters, and we are blessed to have them in our lives. Throughout this process, community, fellowship, and support have become key to their comfort - and not having support or losing support has caused the most hurt, for both of them.

Luckily for my dad, he and my mom have found friendship, support, and care at Gilda's Club Kansas City. I encourage you to make a donation to Gilda's in honor of those in your life who have battled or are battling cancer - so that no one faces cancer alone.

30 Life Lessons at 30

1. I like my parents.
There was a time in high school where most people stopped liking their parents and thought they were UNCOOL. I never did, but I probably wasn't shouting from the rooftops how much I liked them... and how I always obeyed their rules.... because I was a huge nerd. I have since realized that it is because my parents are amazing people, and some people do not get great parents. My twenties changed our relationship in so many great ways, because instead of just leaning on them, they can now lean back on me. I can repay them for all their years of greatness. (and they were always cool)
 

2. Dogs are truly God's gift.
Especially to a budding relationship! Raleigh has taught me a lot about responsibility, but she also brought John and I closer. She made us a family. She brings a lot of love into our days, makes us laugh, and keeps us playful.
 

3. I am not a fixer.
When something is broken, I throw it away. When something is broken, John gets excited to fix it. Good life partner for me.
 

4. Admitting I was wrong and forgiveness - still yet to master.
I figured out in the last decade that these are key to happiness, but easier said than done. I will continue to work towards being more humble and forgiving.
 

5. There are people who want you to fail.
Do you have someone in your life who acts nice but you always feel like they secretly want you to fail? They probably do. I bet they are concerned about their own failures, and they would feel a lot better about it if they weren't alone. Moral of the story? Be cautious around this person - but also be kind, because they are hurting.
 

6. I love fall the best.
Colorful leaves, fall festivals, football all weekend, my wedding anniversary... the list goes on! Best season by far.
 

7. I chose a great partner.
John is my best friend. I am glad we took a leap five years ago.
 

8. Weight loss is possible!
 ... but you have to keep it up. If you keep off the weight for a couple months with no work, that doesn't mean it won't come back. It will. Watch out. Keep working out and eating well, or you'll have to start all over.
 

9. My book club is awesome and I love to read.
Reading has become such a big part of my life. I love checking another book off my list, and I love the quiet time to myself. Thanks to this group of girls for helping me discover a love of reading.

10. Facebook can hurt your feelings.
We all use social media to show off the best parts of our lives. That's also why it can be so hurtful. We forget that no one snaps a picture and says, "This is that day where everyone hurt my feelings and I said the wrong thing and I made a mistake and my house was dirty and my car is old and I have no goals and I ate my feelings...."
 

11. Be kind.
Period. Give respect and you will receive it.
 

12. BUT - being a bitch has its rewards too.
See the aforementioned note about kindness? Be kind, but do NOT be a doormat.
 

13. the C word.
Cancer has become a big part of my life. I will spend the rest of my years loathing this disease and supporting the best organzations I can. PLEASE NOTE: Some of the best known orgs are spending a lot of money on education and a lot less on actual research - they are also staying afloat financially because cancer exists - I am not a conspiracy theorist, but please be cautious and smart about your donations.
 

Also - If someone has lung cancer and you ask if they smoked - you are an asshole. Would you ask someone with heart disease if they have ever had a cheeseburger?
 

14. Being an aunt is awesome.
I love babies, and I love my friend's babies - but, I didn't know the expanse of my heart until I met Henry. Being an aunt before being a mom is probably going to be one of life's greatest gifts to me. It's like seeing a glimmer of what motherhood might bring me, but being able to enjoy this step first.
 

15. I am not invincible.
My twenties taught me that I won't live forever, and neither will anyone else. Our bodies are fragile, life is short, and you can't predict the future. John has battled some weird infections and ulcer issues in the last year, I learned I have Scoliosis and Arthritis (which I am sure will be a bigger part of my 30s... wah wah), doctors thought I had a tumor last year, and both John and I now have parents battling stage four cancer. Whoopee.
 

16. Grief is complicated.
Everyone responds differently. Be thoughtful.
 

17. It's okay to walk away from toxic friendships. It's okay to have just a few close friends.
Are you always walking on egg shells? Do they make you feel bad about yourself? Is it always about them? End it now. My twenties gave me the strength to let bad relationships go.
 

18. It's not always about you!
It's just not. (Boom! Mic drop!)
 

19. Don't talk to me before coffee.
This could also be re-worded as, "I am stupid before coffee," or "I am a bitch before coffee." Basically, just give me coffee.
 

20. I am who I am - and I'm an ENFJ.
Do you take personality tests? (maybe just nerdy Psych majors like me do?) I am an ENFJ (Extrovert-Intuitive-Feeling-Judging) on the Myers-Briggs test, and a 2 or 7 in the Enneagram test (Helper/Enthusiast). John is an ESTP. Mine says, "Warm, empathetic, responsive, and responsible. Finds potential in everyone. Highly attuned to the motivations of others" - and John's says, "they want to act energetically to solve the problem. Focus on the here-and-now, spontaneous, enjoy each moment that they can be active with others. Learn best through doing."  See your explanations here.
 

21. Food is fun!
I like restaurants, cooking at home, the food network, cookbooks, tv shows like Top Chef.... basically, you should feed me, and I will love you forever. (Also see #19.)

22. Men may need cleaning awards.
Okay. I really thought all the sitcoms were just an exaggeration of male/female relationships, but they are true. I could clean the whole kitchen, do laundry, cook dinner - all while bouncing on one foot - and he'd still need a lot of gratitude for taking out a bag of trash. (Where is my cheerleader?) I have recently decided that if men need an award for cleaning - fine. We all have our love languages and talents and needs. Fine.
 

23. Online dating can lead to marriage.
Yes. We met online. I am mostly okay with admitting it - and definitely not ashamed - but sometimes I just want to say, "We were set up." Especially to strangers.
 

24. You better like your work.
If you are just starting out, you probably haven't realized it yet - you will spend more hours at work each week than hours doing anything else. So, find something you like, invest in relationships at work that will make it a fun place to be, and motivate yourself to not only enjoy your work but exceed your own expectations. The bitterness from not liking your job or not doing it well can eat you alive.
 

25. Gratefulness
When I feel the twinge of jealousy, I always remind myself that there is someone out there that wants something I have. Be grateful.
 

26. Half Full
I am an optimist. I have to be. I thrive on happy, and I truly believe that things work out. I think one secret is empathy. The saddest people I see are the ones who cannot see life from other perspectives, so they are always making assumptions and making everything personal. Look on the bright side - or look more closely!
 

27. "Secrets don't make friends."
Remember smart-mouthing that phrase at recess? Well, it is true. If you talk crap every time your friend is missing, chances are they do the same when you are missing. Be a good friend, be honest, and have each other's back.
 

28. Be at peace with God.
It was easy to look to God as a young person. I knew no sadness, no true grief. Learning to trust God even through life's greatest sadnesses has opened me up to a new spiritual relationship. Doubting and anger made me stronger. (On a side note - Kari Jobe has become the voice of reason on many sad days. Have a bad day? Listen to this song and feel some solace.)
 

29. Adults never had it all figured out!
Remember when you were little and you thought adults knew everything? I kept thinking I would stumble upon a moment of enlightenment in my twenties and receive my adulthood membership card... instead, I realized that everyone is just doing their best and no one has the answers. "Fake it to make it" - that is adulthood. Phew.
 

30. The best is yet to come!
I am excited to enter a new decade. I will do so with an open heart!



dads are the best.

Happy Birthday, to my awesome dad -

who has always protected me from the icky things in this life.

 

 

 ... with the exception of this haircut.

most of most

Most of Most. That's what Dad says. And his brothers. About anything that is cool. (i.e. That song is most of most cool.) In recent years, it just became most of most. No adjective necessary. The cool is implied.

I don't think life is very most of most right now for him. I think this medicine is really hard on his body. I am thankful for what this medicine is doing for him, but it is physically and emotionally taxing. I don't want to try to express on my blog how that makes me feel, or how it makes my family feel, because it is terribly personal. But, it breaks my heart. I don't need to write here why Dads are important or why my Dad is special to me or why, even beyond a Dad, he is a great person... I will, though, ask for your thoughts and prayers and good juju.

the quiet blog.

I have not been blogging regularly for a long time. I used to use this space to share funny little stories from my life, share pictures, recap my week and rant about my pet peeves. All of this started seeming really ridiculous and insignificant last Fall - when we found out my dad's cancer was back.

In November 2010, five days after John and I were engaged, Dad found out he had Kidney Cancer.  Just days later we all found ourselves taking up over half of the seats in the surgical waiting room at St. Lukes as we waited for a kidney to be removed. We actually chose our wedding date that day. With all of the family in one place, we were able to compare calendars and make a decision. We looked at wedding venues online, listened to ipods, and I spell-checked a bad ass email my aunt was planning to send to her newly ex-employer. We also set up her new email address (since she didn't have a personal one), and we debated the spelling of her middle name. (Who doesn't know how to spell their middle name?!?!?) It was a crazy day, full of strange conversations and weird exchanges. But, in the end, we were so happy to hear that the surgery went well. We were cancer free.

On October 1, 2011, I married John. It was a beautiful day with overwhelming love and joy. No one could have told me how happy the day would be or how it would stay with me for weeks - like I was high on life.

A couple weeks later - before pictures were in, before thank yous were mailed - we found out that the cancer was back. And, this time, it was not where it was supposed to be. The cancer had moved into his lungs and a couple lymph nodes. When cancer is not where it originated, you hear the dreaded "stage four." Metastasized.

This was an odd month for me. I was still clinging to the joy of the wedding and yet grieving at the same time. Writing my thank you letters became cathartic. I loved jotting down my favorite memories of the wedding to the guests, personalizing when possible, and telling everyone what a lovely time we had and what generosity we were shown. It was like living someone else's life.

I remember when my pictures were done. I dove into them for weeks. I was obsessed. It was so nice to look back on that day. A day when I was at peace, and in love, and so happy - and my dad did not have cancer.

Over Christmas, we had some added stress. The specifics, however, I am going to keep private. Let's just say - It was bad. We needed relief. It was the hardest couple months of my life. To date. I remember thinking back to when we lost our sweet Ky Ky. I really did think that would be my defining "bad thing" that happened to me. I figured we all had a story, and our stories would inevitably have some bad parts, and that maybe that was mine. That was the thing that would make my family stronger and then everything else would be daisies and roses - because we deserved it, damn it!

Here we are - summer 2012 - and I can say I am feeling relief. You never know how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice. Dad is on his second medication, and he is doing well. I was very concerned about his quality of life while being treated, and I am happy to say that he is golfing and laughing and working and being an awesome dad... doing pretty much everything he normally would do. He is also not symptomatic from the cancer. So, he is sick... but, he doesn't feel sick.

And, just for good measure, I just want to say that he is the best dad, the best friend, the best role model. Anyone would tell you so. He is a great man. So much of all the good stuff in me is because of him.

So, that's where I have been. I've been focusing on my family and counting my blessings. If I am not writing on here, it's because I am off living my life, with my awesome family and friends, trying not to sweat the small stuff - because the big stuff sucks.

updates

Dad is home. The surgery was successful. Hopefully cancer free!

Grandma is getting worse. Please be thinking of her.

John and I picked a wedding reception venue.

Busy at work.

Almost done shopping for Xmas.

Life is moving fast.

Kinda glad to say adios to 2010.

information overload

It has been a long week.

Please be thinking of my dad who will be having his kidney removed on Thursday. We found out just last Monday that he has kidney cancer - specifically, a very large tumor in his kidney. We hope that this surgery will remove all cancer cells and return him to good health.

We lost my cousin Skyler three years ago. I have no idea how three years have passed, yet they have. I think about him this week and the gift he was to those who loved him.

My grandmother went into the hospital this week also. My sweet, sweet grandmother will probably not be back at the assisted living center we just moved her and my Grandpa into. Her care-needs are growing and the Alzheimers is really taking its toll.

I have our wedding and Christmas on the brain too - information overload. Jewelee can tell you that I haven't been completing full sentences this week... or words... and I came into work with my shirt on inside-out today... thank goodness she knows I am completely overwhelmed mentally. haha

Tonight I took a bubble bath with my favorite calming ipod playlist... and it really calmed me down. Have you ever heard this song? Years ago a friend had this playing when you pulled up her blog. I used to pull up her blog just to hear it. Tonight it brought me the comfort I needed.

 

"I melt in your peace, it's overwhelming."
 

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
Psalm 143:8