difficult subjects

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.

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.

Heartbeat

Posted on October 3, 2011 Written by Tonya

I am 10 minutes early.

After signing my name on the first available line, I sit and wait.

Deliberately I thumb through magazines, one after the other as families of four smile up at me from the glossy pages.

It’s finally my turn.

I am ushered to a dark room and asked to undress.

The image on the large screen above me is fuzzy, difficult to make out and yet somehow I know.

My hands begin to sweat and I am holding my breath.

“I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.”

A sound I have never made before escapes my throat.

This post is for Write On Edge’s weekly writing assignment RemembRED. This week’s prompt: Conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season – whatever you like. But don’t tell me what it is, conjure it. 100 words or less. Constructive criticism is welcome.

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.

At Ease

Posted on August 15, 2011 Written by Tonya

We held hands the entire drive home from the therapist’s office.

Relief.

A decision had been reached.

The words spoken out loud.

Later would come the tears. And questions.

So many questions.

Some people offer disconcerting looks, you know the one that says, “oh, I’m sorry, I brought it up.” and then quickly ask if I got married too young, like that’s a suitable excuse.

“No, we were 27 and 30 respectively,” I answer matter-of-factly and in my mind think: old enough to have been around the block a couple of times, but young enough to still believe that love conquers all.

A lot of people don’t even bat an eye and a few are shocked as hell at the discovery.

I was married before I met Lucas’ father.

Over 50% of all marriages in the U.S. end in divorce. I am not proud to be a part of this group. I know it shamed my parents, especially my father. I apologized to him over and over again.

My ex-husband and I met in college, dated for three years, broke up for six months, reunited, were engaged for a year and married for almost three years. No one did anything wrong in our marriage, but neither of us happy. We shared some good times, great laughs and I don’t regret a single moment I spent with him, but somehow I knew our marriage wouldn’t last.

No one gets married to get divorced, but sometimes love doesn’t conquer all. It’s native to think it does. I know this now. Sometimes priorities are warped, you lose sight of yourself in spite of yourself and over time realize the person you thought you fell in love with is someone else entirely. People change. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.

I knew something was missing.

It was me.

I was missing from my own marriage!

From the moment I said, “I do,” my true authentic self began disappearing. It was slow at first and then like a whirlwind. I became this odd matronly figure that wore clothes that were a size too big and I started buying trivets and cookie jars. I was trying to be the “perfect” wife, knowing full well that no such thing existed. The more I lost myself, the sadder I became. Then I focused on trying to make myself believe that I was okay with being content.

Content.

I hate that word.

All the sacrifices and compromises weren’t worth it and in then end, I was only compromising myself.

We spent several months in mid 2002 trying to figure out what to do and if our marriage was salvageable. We sought marriage counseling and finally after many sessions and sleepless nights decided to go our separate ways. It was, to date the hardest decision I have ever been faced with.

My ex-husband is a good guy; charismatic and ambitious. He has a wonderful family and had an all-American upbringing. We wanted different things and in an effort to be true to ourselves had to say goodbye to one another.

I haven’t seen him since early 2008. He attended my parents memorial service, which was both unexpected and sweet. We’re Facebook friends (I think?) and we exchange yearly holiday cards and the occasional e-mail. He is remarried and has children and I hope more than anything is happy.

Anything but content.

I’ll never forget that drive home that hot August night.

As sad as I was, I was at ease.

This post is for Write On Edge’s weekly writing assignment RemembRED. This week’s prompt was: Write about a moment in your life when you knew something had to change drastically. Maybe it was a relationship, or career, parenting, school, diet – anything.

A Woman I Didn’t Know

Posted on April 20, 2011 Written by Tonya

I had a good mother but she and I did not have the type of relationship that I would have liked. We didn’t share intimate secrets or inside jokes. She wasn’t the first person I would think of to call when I had a dilemma. I loved her dearly but I didn’t know her at all.

It’s taken me a long time to be able to admit that my mother and I were not close, especially since she has been gone for over three years.

My mother was a sweet and giving person. She taught kindergarten or third grade my whole life. She loved to celebrate each and every holiday with gusto. She sent heartfelt greeting cards and made the best chocolate chip cookies on the planet. Her motto was a cliche that I grew to hate: c’est la vie because it became her “go to” response to EVERYTHING.

My mother was a very intelligent woman and I can recall hearing my father comment many times on her high IQ, but she didn’t talk very much.

I don’t think she knew how to express herself.

Until I realized that, she seemed disinterested, oblivious and even intimated by me. I know she must have had a lot of opinions, but she didn’t share them, even after much probing.

There were nightly conversations in our home on a variety of topics ranging from entertainment and politics to current events and religion and it was always my father, sister and me having the discussions, while my mother sat quietly on the sidelines not contributing a word.

Was it our fault?

Did we not include her enough?

Did she think she couldn’t relate?

Did she feel as though her opinion didn’t matter to us?

It did. Very much.

She appeared to be listening and taking it all in, but there was zero exchange.

I was once at a job for more than two years before she ever asked me what it was that I did.

I can accept the things my mother was, but to this day I cannot accept the things that she was not.

I wish we had both tried harder.

If my mother blogged or even kept a hand written diary when I was Lucas’ age, I feel like I would have been privy to a woman I don’t feel like I knew. I would have learned of her inner most thoughts and feelings on motherhood, dreams for me and herself. I would be able to read about her passions, joys, sorrows, strengths and weaknesses and love for me.

I would have very much appreciate, benefited from and cherished a Letters For Tonya blog.

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt 2.) If my Mom were a blogger…

Mysterious Ways

Posted on February 10, 2011 Written by Tonya

I could never have imagined that my parents would not meet my son.

It didn’t once enter my thought process when I dreamed about having a family. In my mind, two sets of grandparents were always part of that equation.

Being a parent without parents never ever crossed my mind.

They should be here.

My son should have two sets of grandparents.

My mother and father should know Lucas.

Lucas should know my mother and father.

He will.

Lucas will know my parents through me and my husband and my sister and anyone else that wants to tell him about what amazing people they were. He’ll hear that he reminds us of them in small ways; like a simple expression on his face that looks just like one my mother would make when she was giddy with excitement and big ways, too, like Lucas’ insatiable curiosity that was so similar to my father’s and how they were taken from all of us too soon.

But it’s not the same.

Lucas is missing being able to go to a Red Sox game with my dad, hear first hand about the small town in Texas where he grew up. He is missing learning about stamp collecting, how to make the perfect Orange Julius and the intrigue of film-noir movies.

Lucas is missing holding my mother’s soft hands, devouring her scrumptious chocolate chip cookies and celebrating each and every holiday with gusto, as only she knew how.

Lucas is missing out on so much.

But they are missing out too.

I have a beautiful, smart, funny, awesome son and just once, I’d love for my parents to able to hear his magical laughter every time I chase him around the park.

Losing my mother and father at such an early age, mine and theirs respectively, is unfathomable. But, sometimes the universe works in mysterious ways and the unfathomable happens. I lost my parents and less than a year later became pregnant with Lucas. I suffered the greatest loss of my life and then gained light and hope and more joy than I ever thought my heart could hold.

I could never have imagined that my parents would not meet my son or that they wouldn’t be here longer than they were, but the way I used to think changed and then the whole world shifted.

If want to know more about how I lost my parents, please read For My Broken Heart.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This weeks prompt was to write a post that begins with the line, “I could never have imagined” and ends with the line, “Then the whole world shifted.”

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We Will Never Forget

Posted on September 11, 2010 Written by Tonya

I just went through my September 2009 blog archive and for some reason, I didn’t wrote a post on September 11.

I wonder why.

“Where were you when you heard Kennedy was shot?” is one of the most significant questions for my parents generation and for mine, it will be: “where were you on 9/11?”.

Today is the anniversary of one of the saddest days in America’s history. A day that we will never forget.

Nine years ago terrorists flew two planes into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center towers in New York City. Both buildings collapsed within two hours, destroying nearby buildings and damaging others. The hijackers crashed a third airliner into the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia. A fourth plane crashed into a field in rural Pennsylvania after some of its passengers and flight crew attempted to retake control of the plane, which the hijackers had redirected toward Washington, D.C.

There were no survivors from any of the flights.

In all, 2,974 victims were killed by the September 11, 2001 attacks: 2,750 connected to the World Trade Center, 40 in Pennsylvania and 184 at the Pentagon. Those numbers do not include the 19 hijackers.

The images plastered all over the TV for weeks following the attacks were like something straight out of a movie. They were graphic and sad; each image more haunting than the last… the planes hitting the towers, people jumping out of windows, smoke, flames and debris, frustrated and tired rescue workers and faces of the victims,

As I encountered these images again today, all I could think was how will I ever be able to explain this or any other tragedy to Lucas?

How do you explain the unexplainable? Especially when you don’t understand it yourself. 9/11 is a heartbreaking event and even more so to have to explain to your perfect little human that the world isn’t all as loving as the world inside our home.

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Time Heals All Wounds

Posted on July 19, 2010 Written by Tonya

A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor’s book. – Irish proverb

I haven’t posted in a few days. I have a lot to say, a lot is floating around this brain of mine, but the only thing on my mind is the fact that I’m not pregnant anymore. I couldn’t even get my Friday Flip Offs together, and I live for that!!

Last week went from bad to worse. I will spare you all the details, but it ended last night with a visit to the ER.

I’m on the mend, but sad.

I know it is completely normal for me to feel this way and I know it will pass, but my mind is a litany of negative thoughts and I can’t seem to shake them.

I’m trying to carry on as usual, but it’s easier said than done.

I’m trying to carry on as usual, because I have a 13 month old and he needs me as much as I need him.

Unfortunately, Lucas’ dad had to be out of town for a few days last week, so my sister was here and helped out immensely. She knows me well and is great with Lucas. I don’t know what we would have done without her.

Like most people, when trying to feel better emotionally, I turn to retail therapy, drowning my sorrows in Cabernet, pouring my heart out in my journal or blog, or watching too much bad TV, but sleep has always been my favorite way to escape.

None of it really helps, but crawling under the covers and disappearing for a while is a good place to start.

My son’s smile is another brilliant light at the end of this dark tunnel and lastly, there’s time…. time to heal, time to mourn and eventually time to try again.

Thank you for all of the support, good thoughts and virtual hugs last week and for commenting on my post Miscarried. As usual, I put myself out there in a very real and honest way and the feedback was sincere and heartfelt.

The best is yet to be.

Miscarried

Posted on July 12, 2010 Written by Tonya

I can’t sleep.

I have too much on my mind.

I write this with a lump in my throat.

The day before Lucas’ birthday, I took a pregnancy test and it came out positive. We had only been “trying” for two weeks! Can you say fertile? Stranger things have happened…

Learning you’re pregnant the first time is one of the most exciting moments in a woman’s life. Not only is it a major milestone on the path of adulthood, it is one of the most joyous experiences you will ever have. I will never forget the day I found out I was pregnant with Lucas. I cried tears of happiness, excitement and fear.

Learning I was pregnant a second time was a little more shocking for me. I had just gotten back to my pre-pregnancy weight and into my favorite jeans. The hair around my face was starting to grow back and I was FINALLY starting to get the hang of this “mommy thing”. The tears this time were out of pure disbelief. I was excited for sure, but also troubled by how our perfect little family of three was going to change drastically. I was mostly concerned with how this new addition would affect Lucas and how I might handle two under two. Doing the quick calculations, Lucas and his sibling would be almost 21 months apart.

I thought I was nine weeks along at my first OB/GYN visit when an ultrasound revealed that I was only measuring at six weeks. We were told we could have our dates off.

I’m pretty good (obsessive) with dates and knew deep down inside that something was terribly wrong.

Blood work was ordered to check my hCG (the pregnancy hormone) levels and more ultrasounds a week later. Unfortunately, my hCG levels dropped and we learned last Thursday that there had been no growth to the embryo since week six.

I had a terrific pregnancy with Lucas, (you can read all about my experience here) so why would I think anything would or could go wrong with this one? I certainly felt pregnant. I’ve been tired and famished and snarky.

But, in the end, my gut was right. There was something wrong and this pregnancy wasn’t meant to be.

Of course, we’ll never know exactly what went wrong (see #3 of my Friday Flip Offs for how I feel about that).

I never wanted to be a part of this group… a woman who has suffered a miscarriage and also a mother who is already blessed with the knowledge of the beautiful outcome of a full term pregnancy.

But here I am, a reluctant member with so many questions and so much sadness. Why did this happen to us? What went wrong? Did I do something different this time around? Will it happen again?
I know that miscarriage is far more common than we like to think and often times there are no answers. I’ll have to accept that. Eventually.

All I know right now is that this hurts, I’m sad and because I don’t want to wait around for my body to have a natural miscarriage, I have a D and C (a procedure to scrape and collect the tissue from inside the uterus) scheduled for this afternoon.

Please keep me and all of the women that have ever had to go through this in your thoughts… if just for today. Thank you. xoxo

This post was written for the word game, Word Up, Yo!hosted by Natalie (Mommy of a Monster), Kristin (Taming Insanity) and Liz (a belle, a bean and a chicago dog).

If you like words too, play along!
This week’s word is snarky.

Death

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