Against All Odds

After a particularly rough couple of days with Baby J I was venting to Hubs.  I even went so far as to say how all the "bad" things
going on were made harder by having a baby.  I was frustrated and everything lately seems to feel larger than normal in my grief   

Apparently growing concerned by my ranting Hubs said, "But you love him, right?"

To which I replied.  "Yes.... against all odds I do love that baby."

My drooly blue-eyed boy

And then I broke out of my rant and laughed.  

"I believe that may be our family theme.  We love each other against all odds."

I don't pretend to be an easy person to live with.  I'm independent, stubborn, and sarcastic.  As I jokingly told a friend the other day, I do what I went, when I want, how I want.   

As I go down the list of my family members I come up with words like mischievous, sassy, pouty, lazy, slow, messy, fussy, whiny, bossy and short tempered.

But, against all odds, I love them.  

When they all go to bed and I look at their little sleeping faces - with mouths firmly closed - I feel the truth of who they are seep into my heart.  Courageous, strong, energetic, curious, empathetic, cheerful, snuggly, with so much to teach me.

I'm so grateful for them.  

And even when people (HUBS) point out that my kids act just like I do, I can easily forgive them because I'm awesome.  Oh, wait, that's not what I meant to say.  

What I meant to say is that I hope they can weed through my roughness and take away the good.  Because even though I can be independent and sarcastic, I am also deeply loyal to those I love.  And I've never been afraid to not follow the crowd.

Other than those two qualities, I'm banking on them getting some helpful attributes from their father.  Hubs is a truly good person with the ability to work hard and sacrifice much to make those around him happy.

Today, watching my little ones run around the park on a gorgeous sunny Easter weekend, I was reminded that my life is blessed.  Even though these people have brought some of my greatest challenges, they have also brought some of my greatest joys.

How lucky I am to call myself wife and mother.

Happy Easter everyone!

Driver Beware

Today whilst running errands, Joely and I were deeply engaged in a discussion on stoplights and their purpose when we began to approach one.  Joel was quietly pondering the redness of the light when suddenly my eye was caught by the car in front of me.  It was a small white car with an apparent leprechaun and stuffed animal infestation.  In fact, I can't 100% guarantee that it wasn't a stuffed animal behind the wheel.

Not her car.... this person is an amateur 

From the windows hung every shape and size of shamrock.  Some were dangling from the roof (interior) of the car.  The back window, dash and seats had passengers of the stuffed variety.  Each was enjoying their personal celebration of the upcoming St. Patrick's Day.

My first thought, after "Wh--?", was "I don't trust that woman."

Now, I don't mean that I think she was shady with shifty eyes and a general hunched over persona.  I mean that I'm pretty darn sure she will be getting in an accident before reaching her destination (Oz) and I didn't want to be the person exploring that little surprise at the end of the rainbow.

So, I made a quick right and continued on a slightly altered path.

As I drove I analyzed why I would just automatically not trust a driver with a car full of party.  And I've reached a conclusion.

She is an alien life form.

No self respecting person from planet earth decorates their car like that.  Sure, some fun loving people have bobble heads or Hawaiian ladies shaking their hips in their cars.  But even those little breaches of logic are contained to one small representation on the dash board.

Anyone whose car is vomiting up beanie babies is clearly trying to use some sort of cloaking device to keep us average humans focused away from their origins.

They do not live on the same planet as the rest of us.

Also, humans are naturally social creatures.  We typically avoid stuffing our cars full of fake friends in order to have room for the real live friends we cart around with us.

Aliens are anti-social.  I'm sure of it.  They want to surround themselves with weaker creatures, and who is weaker than a stuffed animal who never talks back and has a permanent smile on?  See... see.....!!!!!

Sure, she may have flown a highly developed super galactic space machine to arrive here.  But that doesn't mean she can handle a car and obey traffic laws.  Sure, she may have dodged a meteor or two on the way into our atmosphere, but that doesn't mean she can dodge a flying stuffed snow leopard when the light suddenly turns red.

Really, for my safety - and yours - I would recommend steering clear of that amount of trouble on wheels.

 On the flip side... if she is human and the just feels a sense of spunk and frivolity by decorating her car that way, well,  then thoughts of Easter make me shudder, knowing she will probably have swinging eggs and little bunnies floating in the car, blocking her ability to focus on the road.  Don't even get me started on the horrors of the traditional stuffed animals given as gifts all around America.

Super cute for babies.... not for cars!

She's gonna need a Suburban.

The Funeral - Pictures

A few days before Ben's funeral my darling cousin, Stephanie Moore, who is an amazing photographer, emailed me to ask if she could perform the wonderful service of photographing the funeral and viewing.  We were so relieved to have her ask.  We knew that one day we would want pictures, but we also knew that we wanted to be fully engaged and involved in the funeral and not see it through our cameras... or worse, forget to take the time to snap some shots.

Thanks again, Steph!  You definitely took a load off our shoulders.

This past week her CD of photos arrived in the mail.  There were 575 pictures.  She got pictures of the private gatherings at my parent's house as family arrived, of the viewing, funeral and luncheon and the graveside.

It was bittersweet, for sure, to sit and look through all those pictures.  It's hard to explain how that day felt.  Looking back it almost feels like a dream in that some details are fuzzy and some are crystal clear.

Looking over the pictures brought to the surface some of the emotions that I was blessed to not feel that day.  That day was peaceful and serene.  It wasn't a day for crying, but a day for honoring and celebrating the life of someone we deeply love.

But now, almost a month later, I felt the emotions you would think I'd have felt that day and the days leading up to it.

Sorrow and heartache.  As time marches on I begin to feel the ache of missing him.

However, I was again reminded of the incredible sense of love and unity that we felt as friends and family gathered.

I wanted to share with you six of my favorite pictures that I feel like really represent that special day.  I'm sure they aren't the six that the rest of my family would pick... because each of us felt something or noticed something different I'm sure, but I love each of them for a specific reason.

I hope they will touch you as they do me.

** Click on any of them to view a larger image **

Number one:  This picture is of 8 of Ben's pallbearers.  His buddies.  4 were cousins (Trenton, Kedrick, Dave & Layne).  3 were life long friends (Will, Bryan, Wade) and one was a "newer" friend who quickly became a one of his closest (Dan).  One of my favorite tasks involved with planning the funeral was calling  them and asking them to be a pallbearer.  Without fail they all expressed how honored they were by that.  These were men who had a great impact on Ben, who stood by him through many ups and downs and who loved him.  They felt (and feel) his loss as much as any buddy would.

Number two:  The remaining 8 pallbearers had the honor of carrying Ben's casket from hearse to graveside. These men were family.  The Hubs (Steven), My dad (Rand), brothers-in-law (Dane, Marty, Dave, Ken), fathers-in-law, (Dane and Short-T).  It was snowy and quiet.  Ben's beautiful resting place is under some big, old trees.  Sara's friend played the bagpipe, Amazing Grace.  Again, men Ben loved and who miss him greatly.  Honorary pallbearers were Sara's little 10 year-old brother Nicholas, and my two sweet boys, Joel and Jasec.  Too little to carry the casket... but big enough to love Ben!

Number three :  This picture is of my parents walking out after the funeral to head up to the graveside.  The truck and jeep are Ben's.  He LOVED these two beasts.  Dad drove them to head up the jeep procession.

Number four:  The Jeep Procession.  We sent word out to all his family and friends who would be attending the funeral and had jeeps, to drive them.  It was so fun to watch the procession roll into the cemetery and to hear (and feel) the vibrations of loud engines as they hummed along.  Some were even driven without tops on, braving the 30 degree temperatures to honor a fellow jeeper.  Here are some of them parked at the cemetery.

Number five:  My family with Ben's casket.  I learned during this process that casket is from the French word for jewelry box.  Something small and often ornate used for holding valuables.   I find that appropriate. (Jasec was with his Grammy... a wise, wise decision that made this day less stressful for me.)

And finally, number six:  Family.  After the luncheon my mom's side of the family {The Campbells} gathered in the church Relief Society room and were just visiting and talking.  My cute photographer cousin got us all to take a quick group shot.  Out of the possible 20 grandchildren (21 with Ben), 15 were in attendance.  I have said many times how much it meant to me to have so much support.  Out of those 15 in attendance only ONE lives in the state of Utah.  Yep.  Amazing that they came.

We had an equally impressive turn-out from the Ridges side, but didn't get a photo with that group.

For me, though, this picture isn't so much about which side of the family it is, as the fact that it simply represents family and the beautiful support offered regardless of time and expense.

I must say, amazing, once more.

As we move forward and work through the loss, I am so grateful for these pictures.  Pictures I can show my children as we talk about Ben and how loved he is.

Desperately Desensitized

The other day after church a cute friend of mine and I were visiting while my children loitered - whining and breathing heavily - nearby.  Friend and I were laughing about something and she turned to my children and said, "Do you guys just think your mom is so funny?"

The overwhelming response was silence.  Followed by Ms. Els shaking her head in the negative.

The verdict is in.  They don't think I'm funny.

Frankly, I'm shocked.  {You should be drowning in sarcasm juice after reading that statement.}

Friend followed up by, "How could you not?"

And I replied, "Because my circus show is their normal.  They think everyone sings disco songs over breakfast cereal and does conga lines around the dinner table."

At this point Ms. Els helpfully inserted "Well, our Daddy is funny!"

Jedi Hubs

Thanks Els.

I saved face by replying that it's obvious who the stay-at-home parent is.... the boring one.

My children are desensitized to my parade of weirdness.  They don't even bat an eyelash when The Hubs and I start dancing and singing opera style to the iPod while cooking dinner, give someone a wedgie as they walk by, or sneak up to scare an unsuspecting victim.

It proves that all children are the same.   Regardless of who their parents are.... parents are boring.

Although, upon further pondering I have to admit that they may be slightly desperate in their attempts to normalize my behavior.   I believe that it may be their way of coping with a mother who just does whatever, whenever she feels like it.

A cousin recently commented on how witty and quick with comebacks our kids are.  Ah, thanks.  I'm sure it's because I talk to my children basically the same way I would talk to a  friend.  (Unless it means they'll cry, then I try to send them to The Hubs for support.)

At our house if you're too slow on your comebacks then you're the last "bore" standing.  The winner of the day around our dinner table is the one who makes us all laugh the hardest.

Cadie Lu - Top contender for the crown!
Joely - "dealing" with it.

And yet, despite all that, my children find me boring.

The good news is that I must be doing SOMETHING right!!

Freedom

My DC girls gave me this jeep to remind me of Ben.
I hung it in my car - because, after all, cars were his "thing".
It now has a place next to the heart I've had hanging in each of my cars
ever since college.  A reminder of love, peace and the promise of the future.

Last night was the first night I've gone out since Ben's funeral.  It was the first time I've felt up to it.  And even then I really had to talk myself into going.  But I knew I needed it.

See, I was meeting up with my DC girls.  And I knew that I'd laugh and cry and come away feeling lighter.

What I didn't expect was the freedom they would grant me to embrace my emotions and the validation they would give me in expressing them.

I've kept my emotions, thoughts and feelings pretty close to my heart in an effort to not be a "downer".  I don't want to be "that girl" that only posts about her loss.  I want people to laugh and smile and feel happy after an encounter with me.

Last night they let me talk about the funeral, my thoughts and my feelings.  Me, who usually laughs and jokes.  Me, who we all thought had no deep emotions {ha ha}.  They gave me the freedom to be whomever I need to be as I go through this process.  And that freedom felt so sweet!

Thank you, once again, my dear friends.

You have no idea how much strength your encouragement gave me.

You have no idea how GOOD it felt to laugh and Google and gossip and talk about mundane every day things.

As always, when I needed you, you were there.

I loved Becky's reminder that at some point all of us will find ourselves on the front row next to the casket of a loved one.  At some point we will all have that moment where we will look into the audience and see  the faces of our dearest friends.  It's humbling to know that no matter what painful roads we may travel, we won't be alone.  And that even if we have a season of heartache and loss, we will still be accepted and loved until we can find our way again.

I want all my friends and family to know how much it meant to me to see your faces in the audience as I spoke at Ben's funeral.  This journey of life would be empty without our fellow travelers.

Thank you for joining me on my journey and for giving me some of your strength on the days when my "soul is on it's knees".

It will be because of you that my brightest days are yet to come!

The Playdate

This afternoon I had a play date with one of my very favorite pals.  My brother.

Ben and I, Christmas morning, 1982

For the 11 days since Ben passed away I have strictly avoided thoughts of the cemetery and his burial plot.  I couldn't think about it, see pictures of it or discuss it.  To admit he had a resting place would mean that it was too real.  More real than I could handle at this point.

And then, today, I realized that it was time to go.

Time to go back to that place where one week ago the only sound was a lone bagpipe playing Amazing Grace.  To the place where one week ago I was surrounded by loved ones, yet felt totally alone.  Where one week ago I watched in quiet reflection as eight of the men in Ben's life lined the muddy path in respectful silence while eight more carried his casket to it's final resting place.

One week doesn't sound like a very long time when I type it out like this.  But I can tell you that this week has been slow as I've tried to ready myself to start down the path to healing and allowing myself to grieve.

And I knew that today was the day for me to start on that path.

And my first feeble footsteps needed to be on the ground where my brother's body rests.

The place that scared me the most.

The Hubs and I loaded up the kids and made the short drive from our home.  The kids were chattering away in the back, having no idea of the stinging in my eyes and the pounding in my heart.

The sky was sunny and there were people walking up and down the streets, out for a Sunday stroll, their lives whizzing past while mine has felt stuck lately.

When we pulled into the cemetery the kids finally quieted down.  The Hubs pulled up to the curb and we sat there for minute.  Then I asked if anyone wanted to get out with me and walk over to Ben's grave.  They all surprised me by saying yes.

The ground was muddy, a remnant of the many footprints from loved ones who made the snowy trek with us last week.

There was a fresh mound of dirt and some flowers on top.

It was quiet.

And then the coolest thing happened as I sat there and stared at the ground.  It began to snow.  Light, fluffy flakes.  Weightless.  Almost too light to even touch down, they danced through the air.  And pretty soon thousands of them joined in the dance.  They stuck to our hair and our coats, but they were so light that their touch couldn't be felt.  Soon we were totally surrounded, sight blurred, yet somehow remaining dry and warm.

"What's happening?" one of the kids giggled as we looked into the sky.  The blue, blue sky with strange dancing flakes coming out of it.

"Uncle Ben is saying hello," I smiled.

And suddenly I felt him there.  Laughing and dancing and smiling with those snowflakes as he said hello.

Tears began to stream down my face and I knew.  He was telling me that he is at peace.  That I will be okay and that he is watching over us.

I looked at Steve and we silently began walking back to the car, somehow with a new rhythm to my step.  Rather than feeble, shaking knees, I walked away knowing that I've left my brother in good hands.  My role as his protector has been handed to another.  One who will do a better job than me.

I can let him go.

I can let him be free.

And even though I will mourn his loss for the rest of my mortal life, I will do so with the knowledge that he is okay.  Even though I will miss him, and cry sometimes, and have to adjust to a new normal, he is smiling down on me, hugging me with snowflakes and wanting me to be happy.

After all those times that I did my best to make him smile, to ease his suffering and to be his friend, it was his turn to give me some comfort.

It was the best play date ever.

The Talk

I'm sure that it comes as no shock that after all my joking about what I'd do if I was asked to speak at Ben's funeral.... I was asked to speak at Ben's funeral. 

I considered it a great honor that Ben wanted me to.  And I felt that it was my own special way of celebrating my brother and friend. 

I had many friends and family comment on how stressful that would be to speak at a loved one's funeral. And at first it was.  I wanted it to be perfect and I wanted people to come away having a better understanding of who Ben was.

In the end, I like to think that Ben was snuggled up in the front row next to his lovely Sara, grinning and shaking his head and chuckling at my antics... just like old times.

It was an honor, Ben, to share our stories and laugh together one more time.

Today I wanted to share a few excerpts from that talk.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A couple months ago I told Ben that if I got to speak at his funeral I was going to roast him.  Without missing a beat he looked at me with a straight face and replied, "Good luck with finding a story that doesn't make you look bad too."

He was right.  I feel that that statement was proof of our friendship over the years.  And I’m grateful for so many adventures shared and memories made.

I was only 2 1/2 when Ben was born, so probably the most important thing I can say is that I don't ever remember being without him.  He was as constant in my life as my parents.  But he was not someone I took for granted. Throughout my entire life I recognized the special bond we shared. 

One day, after we knew Ben wasn't going to survive this cancer battle I was fully engaged in some wallowing while I did housework.  I was angry at God and the world for taking my brother away.  As I vigorously vacuumed my family room I had a sudden peace seep into my heart.  And I knew that this was the plan all along.  God always knew that Ben would be taken earlier than we would like.  And because of that I was given the gift of a strong bond with him from birth.  We didn't waste the time that some siblings waste fighting as children and then becoming friends as adults.  We were always friends, from day one.  And that was just how God meant for it to be. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I have no doubt that Ben made the conscious choice to handle the end of his life with humor and dignity.  He could very easily have chosen the path of bitterness and frustration.  But instead he continued to laugh and smile. 

I have this poem hanging in my house that I found at some point during the past two years.  It reminds me of Ben.  It also serves as a reminder to me of how I want to be as I handle the grief over his loss.

It's by Ella Wheeler Wilcox:

It is easy enough to be pleasant
When life flows by like a song
But the man worthwhile is the one who will smile
When everything goes dead wrong
For the test of the heart is trouble
And it always comes with the years
And the smile that is worth
The praises of earth
Is the smile that shines through the tears.

Toward the end of Ben's life I occasionally felt helpless in easing his burden.  I was unsure of how to help or what to do.  Finally one day I sent him a text expressing my desire to help him and that I felt like I wasn't doing enough.  His response was something along the lines of, "The one thing you can do for me that not many others can is to reminisce about growing up."  So, we began our "remember when" text messages.  We shared many of those during the last month of his life.  I hope it lifted his spirits and made him smile as much as it did me. 

When all is said and done it was truly like the quote by Robert Brault, "Enjoy the little things in life…for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things."

Ben wanted to talk about the family trips we had taken, games we had played as children, and how much happiness he got from looking through family scrapbooks.  His focus was on the people in his life, not the things.  He didn't want to know how our retirement fund was growing or which cruise we were going to try to take next year.  He wanted to know how our kids were doing, how our husbands were dealing with the stresses of work, and then he wanted me to make him some promises.

Promise me you'll spend time as a family with your children.

Promise me you'll not let excuses get in the way of the people in your life.

Promise me you'll take tons of pictures of your kids.

Promise me you'll be a patient and kind mother and wife.

Promise me you'll continue to love and include Sara.

Promise me you'll be slow to be offended or frustrated by family members.  Allow them to feel how they want to feel.  Understand that in the coming weeks they may say things in sadness or anger that they normally wouldn't.  Forgive them for it and be patient.

Promise me that you will never forget that you are living the dream.  Don't take for granted the fact that you have good health, that you have beautiful and healthy children and that you have a long future ahead of you.  Make good use of it.

I have come away from this gut wrenching experience with a new appreciation for family bonds.  They are the most important things we can cultivate during our time on this earth.

Pres.  Thomas S. Monson said: Time passes quickly…We cannot call back time that is past, we cannot stop time that now is, and we cannot experience the future in our present state. Time is a gift, a treasure not to be put aside for the future but to be used wisely in the present.

I know that Ben would want us to take advantage of the time we all have here on earth.  I hope you will all join me in promising Ben that we will treasure our families, that we will be patient and understanding, that we will not judge others but allow them to be who they are and love them regardless, that we will not take our health for granted and that we won't allow things to get in the way of making memories with our loved ones.

When I grow up I want to be just like my little brother.  I want people to think of me as someone who greets challenges with grace and humor.  I want people to feel safe with me and loved by me.  I want my home to feel like a sacred haven from the world.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thank you, Ben, for being not only my brother but my friend. 

I love you.