grief

Dear Pops

Posted on December 6, 2011 Written by Tonya

I love Katie and one of the highlights of my year this year was not only meeting her at BlogHer but rooming with her too. I adore her easy going personality and her beautiful words at Sluiter Nation.

I am so very pleased to have Katie here today with a touching letter to a father-in-law she never had.

Dear Steve…

No. no. that is not right. Let me try again.

Dear Slippery…

No. That is not right either.

Dear Pops…

That is better, I guess. Though I never was able to get comfortable calling you anything. That time was stolen from both of us.

It’s not fair that you were taken less than two months after I joined the family.

But you know that too. So I am not going to spend time on it.

I want to tell you things. I often start, but don’t know how to continue. I never got that one on one time to find my voice with you. I don’t know what our conversation would sound like.

I want you to know that Cortney is doing everything he can to make you proud. He takes care of me and his siblings. He reaches out to both his sister and brother to let them know he is there for them. He keeps up with his step-mom the way you wanted.

And last Christmas he was there to be the head of our family when your dad…our Gramps…died.

He knows he is the eldest generation now, and that is a heavy load to bear.

But he is not the last.

I want you to know about your oldest grandson, Eddie. But you already know about him, don’t you?

I know that you do because I see your silliness…your dimples…your spirit in him. I know Cort does too because it makes him smile a sad smile at times.

And I get a feeling Eddie knows you too.

Maybe it’s the way he points you, Papa, out in photos.

Maybe it’s how he tells me Louis, the cat, went to live with Jesus…and Papa…in Heaven.

Maybe it’s just the look in his eye.

Often times, Cort teases Eddie and tickles him until he gasps for breath, and when I tell him to stop, he says, “my dad did this and I lived.”

I know he thinks of you often and wishes he could go through this dad thing with you by his side. I know he would like to show off his boy to his dad.

Especially because we’ve got another son on the way. Charlie will be here in March.

Two Sluiter boys to carry on the name.

Will Charlie be as “Sluiter” as Eddie is?

Will I see you in the sparkle in his eyes too?

Will I see the past, present, and future of both Cort and me all at once like I do in Eddie?

What I do know, is that I wish you were here.

For Cort.

For the boys.

For me.

I miss something I never really had.

A father-in-law.

Love,

Kates

Being Human

Posted on December 3, 2011 Written by Tonya

This week I received two birth announcements, learned that three friends are newly pregnant and to really rub it in, a darling new baby boutique just opened down the street from my house. Don’t even get me started on the Duggar’s.

Seriously, it is enough to push me right over the edge, but I won’t let it.

This year I suffered two miscarriages, my third and fourth, one in January and one in November. The latter was via IVF. Nice way to bookend the year, huh?

I’m allowed to be a little edgy, aren’t I?

Before this gets too ranty, I am truly happy for my friends and their new little bundles of joy and very excited for the others that are anticipating their second, third and FOURTH children.

I am also more grateful than words could ever express for my son, Lucas. He is a gift and some days I think if it weren’t for his smiling little face, I don’t know what I would do.

And to set the record straight, I don’t really feel as though anything is being “rubbed in my face”. Not intentionally anyway. Good news is meant to be shared and I love good news!

I have a deeper respect for my friend Coreen, who called to tell me about her new addition personally. Thank you, Coreen, I’m wishing you nothing but the best. xoxo

I’m just sad and frustrated and confused and completely inpatient. Not to mention, angry at my body’s unwillingness to cooperate one more time. I’m only human and I know that my feelings are normal, but DAMN IT, I hate that I have them. I hate that I feel like a failure. I hate not knowing what’s wrong, I hate the aging process and what it does to your reproductive system, I hate having my nerves on full alert, I hate doctor’s offices, shots, blood draws, waiting, worrying [please stop me anytime], but I mostly hate grieving for someone I’ve never even met.

HOWEVER, at the end of the day I remain hopeful and I know someday, somehow, I will have good news of my own to share.

Some Days

Posted on November 11, 2011 Written by Tonya

Some days the sadness wins and you just can’t fight it.

Some days the questions outweigh the answers.

Some days there are more tears than smiles.

Some days it would be so much easier to pull the covers way up over your head and stay in bed all day long.

Some days holding on to the past is more comfortable than being in the present or looking forward.

Some days the thought of looking anyone in the eye is too much to bear.

Some days all you feel like doing is curling up with a box of donuts and throwing yourself a pity party.

Some days your spirit is so broken that you can’t remember the last time you laughed.

Some days feel so completely out of control that all you can do is breathe from one moment into the next.

Some days there are not enough distractions and too many memories.

Some days, thankfully, there is this:

Some days are better than others.

If you find yourself in hell, keep going. – Winston Churchill

Since You’ve Been Gone

Posted on November 8, 2011 Written by Tonya

My Letters For You guest this week is my sister Leah, who also blogs at L.A. ‘n’ L.A.

Our mother would have celebrated her 62nd birthday this week and here is a letter to our parents.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I miss you both every day. There’s nothing in life that I want more right now then to see the two of you. A couple weeks ago was the fourth anniversary of your deaths. It frightens me how long you’ve really been gone. You’ve been gone for 1,486 days of my life so far.

There’s so much that I want to tell you. There’s so much that you have missed.

Ultimately, I believe that your deaths changed me. I’ve grown up since you died. I guess I had no choice. I honestly don’t think that I’m your “Little Leah” anymore.

About two years after you died, I moved to Los Angeles. It was time for a change and as you know, I had wanted to move here for a long time. Something else pushed me into moving and that was that Tonya had a baby! That’s right, your oldest daughter has a beautiful baby boy who I cherish more than anything in this world. He brought me back to life after you died.

Lucas is his name and he has your eyes, Daddy. I take so much pride in being his aunt and I do my best to make sure he knows how much he is loved. Tonya and I talk to him about you both all the time and he recognizes your faces in pictures. At 2 years old, there is no one that can make me smile quite like Lucas. There is no doubt in my mind that you would have made excellent grandparents and I’m sorry that you didn’t get that opportunity.

It’s still crazy to me that my big sister is a mother. You would be so proud of her. She’s amazing. Tonya manages to not only be my key support system, but also the most incredible mom. She is so patient and loving. It’s unfair that you are not here to witness her shine in this role. I think that it would have rejuvenated your relationship with her, mom. I really do.

Without you both here guiding and supporting me through life’s ups and downs, I have leaned on Tonya at times of need. I do my best to listen to her and trust her advice. Of course we aren’t perfect and we still bicker from time to time but I do think that we are becoming better sisters and better friends all the time. There is no one that I would have rather had at my side when you died. I like to think that we get each other through the bad moments.

Since moving to L.A., I have struggled to get a job in the music industry. After you died, the economy took a plunge and the music business has been weakened. Finally this past August, I landed a job at a small radio marketing company. I also nanny for a family and have even discovered a new calling in the photography world. I have made some incredible new friends and have even found many high school and college friends that live here in L.A. too. Simply put, I am happy with my life here and I’m so glad that I moved here. Through it all, each day, I strive to make you proud of me. I try so hard to be the daughter that you thought I was becoming. I often wonder if this is the life that you hoped that I would have at 27 years old.

Even after four years, I still catch myself questioning if you are both really gone. I look for signs of you everywhere. I can’t hear a Beatles song, eat a Snickers, walk by a Build-a-Bear store, drink a Diet Dr. Pepper or do so many other things without thinking of you two. I’m touched every time someone says that I remind them of you.

I’m still so angry at you, or rather the hot water heater in your house. I was robbed of so much time with you. It breaks my heart thinking that you won’t get to meet my future husband, be at my wedding or play with my children. These are just the big events. The little ones hurt just the same. I hear people talk about what awful relationships they have with their parents and how they aren’t close. I understand now that what we had was rare. I was very lucky to have such close relationships with you both. Of course, mom, you and I both know we had more. We were best friends too. I literally can’t breathe from sadness sometimes when I think of how much I miss you in my life.

I feel like an orphan. I don’t think that is going to ever go away. It’s a title that I’ve somehow gotten used to and I’m alright with that. If I had one more hour with you both, all I would tell you is that I love you more than words will ever be able to express. I am so eternally grateful for the life that you gave me. You are in my heart today, tomorrow and always.

Lovingly your daughter,
Leah

August 4, 2007, one of our last family photographs.

Death

Posted on October 24, 2011 Written by Tonya

People don’t like to discuss death.

In many circles, the topic of death and dying is one of those taboo subjects, right up there with religion and politics, however, when it comes to death, there is no debate. Death is final and it is going to happen to all of us.

Death is the great unknown and thinking about our mortality makes us uncomfortable.

Death presumably can never affect us in a good way.

Death represents loss; loss of a loved one, loss of everything that we know.

Death is equated with fear; fear of losing someone and fear of how it will happen to us when it’s our time.

Death is a mystery and makes us question the unimaginable:

Will I go quickly?

Will I be in pain?

Will I see a white light?

Will I have done and said everything I need to when my time is up?

What kind of legacy am I leaving behind?

Will I go to heaven?

Will I ever see my loved ones again?

Will anyone attend my funeral?

How will I be remembered?

Trust me, death is far more than Elisabeth Kübler- Ross’ Five Stages of Grief.

I am convinced that if we talked about death more, if it wasn’t such an off limits subject, it wouldn’t be so scary or hard to face.

Having lost my parents at such a young age, theirs (60 and 58 respectively) and mine (35) and serving as the executor of their estate, I implore you to think about your wishes after you die and discuss them with your loved ones.

Openly.

Candidly.

Luckily, my parents did have a Will, but it had been created 28 years before they died and there were a lot of blanks and unanswered questions. With the help of many people I trusted, their estate is now closed, but it took the better part of three years.

Imagine my shock when I discovered on my father’s last “To Do” list a line item that read: Update Will. He thought he’d have time to revise it.

I also encourage you to talk to your aging parents and/or grandparents about their Last Will and Testaments in addition to their material possessions.

When my sister and I cleaned out my parents home, we separated the things we wanted from the things to be donated and the things to be sold through an estate sale, and still filled a 4′ x 30′ dumpster to the very top with junk. 16 years of paper mostly. My parents it seems were pack rats.

Death is no fun, but it is inevitable and the sooner we stop tip toeing around it, the better.

Dear Grandma Honey

Posted on October 18, 2011 Written by Tonya

I’m honored to have Monique, better known on Twitter as SurferWife here today with a tender letter to her dearly departed Grandma Honey.

After reading this, be sure to visit Monique’s blog, A Day in the Life of a Surferwife and search for “celebrity encounter”. You’ll be glad you did!

Dear Grandma Honey,

Just those first three words up above create a pit in my stomach and a clenching in my throat. How do I even begin to express my gratitude and appreciation for all that you have brought to my life?

Even though you were ALuckyDame of A Beautiful Mess and also my husband’s maternal grandmother, you were still my grandma, too, in all aspects of the name. Considering I met and started loving you when I was a mere 12 years old, gives us more time spent together than I ever had with either of my own biological grandmothers, that both passed when I was a teen.

Your cute, fluffy little white hair, high pitched, little grandma voice, your happy smile and warm eyes were all crucial pieces in you becoming everybody’s adopted Grandma Honey.

From the day I met you and Grandpa Bud, more than 22 years ago, I felt an instant connection. I always felt like you genuinely cared about me and my well being. When I went off to college, I eagerly awaited your cute handmade and hand stamped holiday cards. At any family gathering, I could count on you sitting me down and asking me about every element of my life. Your many questions about what I was eating and why I was so skinny, if there were any suitable boys to date, and if I did my homework always left me with a smile on my face and a giggle in my heart.

When I came home nine years ago with my sweet baby boy Jason, you showered him with gifts and welcomed him into your life with open arms. That alone meant more than the world to me and I hope you knew that, Grandma.

And then when your beloved grandson and I announced to the world that we were an item a couple years later, you and Grandpa Bud gave your blessing and told me what a perfect match we were, and why didn’t we figure this out years before when we were kids?

We celebrated the birth of your first great-grandchild, my daughter, on the day you buried your husband. It was an honor to be such a crucial component on a day that encompassed the circle of life for you. I could see the love and admiration in your eyes every time Haley reached a milestone. Just pure and unconditional love between a grandmother and her great-granddaughter.

Our time we spent together these past six years, when I legitimately became your granddaughter through marriage, is invaluable to me. Our long chats over McDonald’s ice cream, nutty bars and many lunch outings always left me so satiated and grateful to have a grandma that was loved by so many. The bond we shared will leave an eternal smile and place in my soul.

My heart hurts terribly knowing our conversation full of giggles and gossip have come to an end on this earth. But I hold tightly to the notion that we will do it again in another universe, Grandma. Thank you for loving me the way you did. I feel like the luckiest granddaughter-in-law ever for it.

Delphine Long - September 26, 1919 - September 18, 2011

We Remembered

Posted on October 18, 2011 Written by Tonya

We remembered.

We avoided eye contact at first.

We got dressed and put on make-up.

We went to brunch and toasted with champagne.

We enjoyed a little retail therapy and indulged in sweet treats. Both helped for a little while.

We received dozens of beautiful flowers and at least a 100 of other tokens of love and well wishes throughout the day in the form of phone calls, text messages, Facebook and Twitter posts. Each one helped immensely.

We listened to their favorite music and smiled.

We talked about the year ahead and what they would be missing.

We drew animals and painted shapes with Lucas and giggled.

We sat around the dining room table and devoured the comfort food my husband prepared. There were more toasts.

We looked through the sympathy cards we were sent four years ago. Many I had not read before. All of them heartfelt.

We went to a movie and sat side by side in the dark and laughed in all the same places.

We hugged.

We cried.

We remembered.

Another anniversary come and gone.

The Hole In My Heart

Posted on October 14, 2011 Written by Tonya

October used to mean feeling Fall in the air and spying Halloween merchandise on every aisle at the supermarket and being greeted by big shinny round pumpkins with glowing smiles on my neighbors front porches.

October meant the nights were getting longer and the air a little cooler. Not quite flannel jammies time, but close.

Conversations about how to spend Thanksgiving begin and Christmas shopping lists are started in October.

Now October has a new meaning.

In particular October 15, but the days leading up to it and the days preceding are tough too.

October 15 used to have no significance to me at all, just another day on the calendar.

Now it marks the anniversary of my parents’ death.

Today they have been gone for four years. 1460 days. It’s hard to believe it has been that long.

I dread the anniversary the most; more than their birthdays, more than Christmas, more than Mother’s Day, Father’s Day or their anniversary. The day I was notified my parents had died was the worst day and every October 15, I relive it. And every year I think it’s going to be a little easier, and it’s not.

I’ll never forgot sitting in my friend Suzy’s kitchen two weeks after the memorial service and watching her eyes fill with tears as she talked about her own father’s passing as if it happened the day before. He had died 30 years earlier.

In some ways this was strangely comforting to me; knowing I wasn’t alone in my grieve for a lost loved one and in other ways it made me even sadder than I already was. I realized this wasn’t something I was going to “get over”, I realized that death is as permanent as grieve and I would have to learn to live with this emptiness, the loss and the hole that was now forever in my heart.

I would have to live with the sadness each and every October and all the days in between.

Catalina Island, July 2005

One good thing occurred on October 15, 2008 on the one year anniversary, I told my sister I was six weeks pregnant with Lucas.

Tell Her

Posted on September 18, 2011 Written by Tonya

Tell her it has been far too long since we’ve seen her beautiful face or heard her deep laughter.

Make sure she knows we miss her.

Tell her we hear her; every single tear and every single plea and we wish we could provide the answers she seeks.

Tell her to trust in her heart that we are always by her side, even if she can’t see us and that whenever she feels a cool gentle breeze on a warm day or spots a hummingbird in the most peculiar of places, that is us; whenever the smile on a stranger’s face makes her feel at ease or she hears one of our family’s favorite songs on the radio, that is us too. We are all around quietly guiding and watching her.

Tell her how pleased we are with the woman she is becoming and the direction her life has taken. Assure her that her future is brilliant and that she should hold on to her dreams with fierce determination and with a little luck and a lot of hard work, they will come true.

Tell her there will be more heartache for her, but nothing that she is unable to withstand. Make her believe that she is so much stronger than we ever realized.

Let her her know that in tough times, it is okay to lean on you, Tonya, that though your exterior is tough, you feel as much as she does and will always be there for her. You are sisters and she needs to know how much you love her and that you always have her best interests at heart.

Tell her that your son is… well, there really are no words. Lucas is sublime and the perfect antidote for the sadness you both must feel since we’ve been gone. We are so grateful for his presence. He is wise beyond his years, enjoy him.

We don’t have to tell either of you how short life is or how it can change in an instant, you both know that now, better than anyone. We were not ready to go. Please live each day to it’s fullest and never forget how loved you are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Knowing it would defy all logic and reason, it’s an interesting concept, so if my parents could reach me, I believe this is what they want me to tell my younger sister, Leah.

Someone’s Special Someone

Posted on September 10, 2011 Written by Tonya

I have written about 9/11 twice: Ten Years Later and We Will Never Forget.

It’s hard for me to believe that it has been 10 years since one of the saddest days in America’s history; a day that still boggles my mind.

The powerful and heart wrenching images that played over and over and over that fateful day and every September 11 since are etched in my memory and I know I am not alone.

Today, all I can think of are the 2,974 innocent lives that were lost on September 11, 2001. And all of the lives those lives touched. Each and every one of those people was someone’s special someone…. fathers, mothers, sisters brothers, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, co-workers, neighbors, mentors, friends and heroes.

They had faces, names, dreams, and lives worth living.

They are missed.

I believe that 9/11 should be a day of remembrance, not regret or political agendas. Life is short and can be irrevocably altered in the blink of an eye. If nothing else, hold your loved ones a little closer and longer today than usual and remember those no longer with us.

Dear Pops

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