The Power of Grief (included)

Grief is a very powerful emotion. It took the death of my daughter and the death of my dad for me to start to understand the complexity of grief and beast it can really be.

While, I would be the first to agree that some grief is necessary in a healthy healing process; grief can also be very demoralizing and paralyzing.

Be nature I am an optimistic, glass is 1/2 full type of woman. I like to see the good in people, the best of a situation and the hope in life. But, I admit that some days my grief has clouded my vision and instead of seeing the vibrant red, orange and yellow in life I have focused on the grays.

It has been almost four months since my daughter died. And, while I was naive at the beginning of this journey, I am fighting hard to not become a complete cynic because of it. Life can really suck somedays and it takes a lot of inner strength or really good friends to help push through those days and see the sunshine again.

Although it is very logical, it is still amazing and downright baffling to me that how we view the world is defined by our experiences and perspective on life. Until I became a mother who had to bury her daughter prematurely, my blinders were on to the plethora of parents who experience the same thing each and every day. It is a miserable club that has enough members and my heart breaks and I grieve each and every time a new mom or dad joins us.

I can't truly yet explain to my heart, why this holiday season has been as painful as it has been. But believe me it's tougher than I could have ever imagined. I so wish Jane and my dad could be with us opening gifts on Christmas morning. It's hard to shop and not pick up that perfect gift and put it in the cart. Yesterday, there were more dad/father books than I can remember seeing in holidays past. I found myself picking up one particular book and then putting it back on the shelf because for the first time in my life I won't have a dad that can open that gift Christmas morning.

It would be easy to become cynical, depressed and bitter this holiday season. Some moments it feels like everywhere we turn children are losing their lives, mean people are doing mean things and the ugly bully called cancer is depriving too many people of another day with the ones they love. It would be really easy to let the bad win and give up. But, I have always liked a challenge and living each day to the expectations of Jane is a challenge worth winning.

I consider myself very lucky to have the gift of inner strength from my parents, a fighting attitude I adopted from Jane, the gift of gab from my dad and some of the best friends and family around who protect me when my guard is down and depression starts to take a nasty grip on my life. In my opinion, when faced with the pain of grief it appears to be much easier to concede to the pain then to fight back to happiness. And, that's why my Christmas wish today is that each and everyone of us has someone who will keep us from being alone and from hovering too long in a pool of self pity. I think it's healthy to take a short dip in that pool, but (and this is a big "but") staying their too long is not a healthy way to grieve.

As I wrote in the beginning, grief can be very paralyzing. I have stopped exercising recently because it has been hard enough somedays to put one foot in front of the other, let alone have them move quickly and with some sort of rhythmic pattern. But, this morning I woke refreshed (thanks in part to a heart-to-heart with a friend) and realized that I am just five months away from my first 1/2 marathon, seven months away from hopefully my first 'Color Run' and nine months away from a run dedicated to Jane and finding a cure for childhood cancer. I suppose I better start training soon.

May this Christmas bring each of us a vibrant outlook on life. And, remember each and every person you meet is fighting one battle or another today. Share a smile, a hand or a kind word - it may just brighten someone's day.

From my family to yours, I wish you a very joyous, blessed and safe holiday. Merry Christmas.

Christmas Memories (included)



Last Christmas, Santa found my three beautiful girls and me at Children's Hospital in Minneapolis. Oh, the memories. It was a very special Christmas and will always be my favorite!

In our darkest moments, hope will light the way.

Last year at this time, my perspective on life was very different than it is today. Last Christmas, I was certain with all my heart that December 2012 would be a time of celebrating the end of Jane's chemotherapy treatment, not the end of her life. I had envisioned 2013 as a cancer-free, happy beginning to the rest of our lives. Oh, wait a painful difference a year, Jane's and my dad's death, and a dose of reality makes.

Last December will go on record as my favorite Christmas for several reasons. The most important and most obvious reason is that Christmas 2011 was the last Christmas Jane spent with us here on earth. And, while I miss her with all my heart, I take some comfort in knowing that she has the greatest gift of all and that is spending her first Christmas in heaven with God.

Another reason that last Christmas was memorable is that it wasn't so much about the gifts under the tree as it was truly about kindess, generosity and the time we spent together. Although, Jane was very sick and was not able to participate in her normal, active way, we were together and that is all that mattered. Together, we watched for Santa through our large windows that overlooked the Minneapolis skyline and we created a Christmas tree out of construction paper that a kind nurse found for us. We hung our one-of-a-kind tree, complete with paper ornaments, up on the wall and put out milk and cookies for Santa. And, when all of us were sleeping (and I mean ALL of us, myself included) Santa snuck into our room and placed a myriad of gifts under our tree. The sweet sounds in our room that morning as the girls awoke to the miracle of Christmas were music to my ears. Much to my surprise, there was even a gift from Santa to me under the tree that Christmas morning. Thank you to all the elves who help stock Santa's shelves at hospitals around the world. The kindness is so heartwarming and when you are the receipient of such generosity, you can't help but have a brand new perspective of the true meaning of Christmas.

This Christmas is so very different. Last year, when my best friend took me Christmas shopping in Minneapolis, I was full of energy and excitedness. I could hardly wait for the girls to open their gifts that Christmas morning. This year, when I shopped with a very good friend in Alexandria, I couldn't help but cry in every store we visited. The night itself was very nice and included good conversation and a nice Italian meal with new friends. But, the shopping was hard, very hard. Everywhere I looked, something would either remind me of Jane or remind me of her soon-to-be absence beside the tree on Christmas morning. I had knots in my stomach and I felt like I could throw up in the aisles at anytime. At one point, we got back out to the truck and it was like someone turned on the faucet. Tears flowed down my cheek and as hard as I tried I couldn't shut them off. I was so sad. I missed Jane so much. I wanted so badly to turn the clock back a year and have one more Christmas with my beautiful angel Jane.

As I shopped for presents, I was filled with an overwhelming guilt when I would only pick up two of something. How could I not buy something for my favorite 9-year-old? I couldn't. So, I bought her a couple of presents - two different angels. One to put with the collection in my bedroom and the other to hang on our Christmas tree.

I also plan to hang her stocking beside the rest of ours. But, this year instead of Santa bringing stocking stuffers to place in Jane's stocking, we are going to start a new tradition where each member of our family puts our wishes for the next year in her stocking. We hope that Santa will take them to the North Pole and help make our all of our wishes and dreams come true in 2013.

I still have more gifts to buy and some to make. I am not sure how I will have the courage or the energy to go back into the stores for round two. But, I know KatieRae and Anna would be very disappointed if I let them down, so I know that I will have to put on my big-girl panties, dry the tears and suck it up and do whatever it is I have to do to get through this holiday season.

Until yesterday, I had no concept of what people meant when they said the holidays are one of the toughest times of the year. I thought I was immune to the pain of the holidays. I was sadly mistaken. This has been the most painful, heart wrenching days of my life, next to her death of course. But, then again, I was numb throughout the entire month of September and somehow was temporarily shielded from the enourmous pain I now feel.

And, while Jane's death is on my mind constantly, my heart breaks for the families that lost loved ones in the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut. I want to go and hug each and every one of the moms and tell them to some degree I understand the pain of their loss. I know what it is like to have to bury a child all too soon. Regretfully, this Christmas we'll be sharing a mutual experience of getting through our first Christmas without our children. Although, I can relate on some levels to their immense pain, I was lucky in some respects that Jane had cancer. Jane and I were able to talk about her legacy. We were able to say "I Love You" one last time. We were able to say good-bye. I just hope the moms and dads in Connecticut can find peace in the moments, hours and days before their child left for school the last time.

I think it is important for us to remember that everyone carries a hurt of some kind, it's just that some may not be as obvious as others. Regardless, everybody needs to know that somebody cares. This holiday season, I hope we can all open our hearts and eyes to those around us. Everybody needs somebody who cares - and be prepared because this season someone might just need you.

Blessings and Peace this holiday season.

The Perfect Christmas Gift (included)

As the end of Christmas shopping season draws near, I have wondered to myself how many people like me have gifts yet to buy. Is it because you are procrastinating, waiting for the Christmas Eve specials or really struggling to find that perfect gift for a special person in your life?

If the reason is the latter and if that special person has lost someone near and dear to them, may I offer an idea of a gift that doesn't need to cost much, but may be more valuable than all the rest of the gifts under the Christmas tree combined. I would suggest taking time out of the hussle and bussle of the season and remember their special loved one. I suggest taking time to honor the legacy left behind and remind them that their angel in heaven will not be forgotten

For me, some of the greatest gifts I can receive are stories about my angel Jane before she went to heaven. It is amazing how it warms my heart to hear someone say her name out loud to me, and when it's combined with a story I haven't heard before or an example of how she has influenced someone's life on this earth, I am doubly proud. Or, when someone photographs a sunrise or a sunset and credits Jane for its beauty, my heart pauses, my blood is warm and I smile from the inside out.

It doesn't need to be expensive, or glitzy or from a store to be the perfect gift. But, then again, it may. I bought a gift on Groupon for a favorite friend of mine, a gift on Amazon for my daughters and a gift from the heart for my mother. I am so excited for Christmas morning when I can watch them open up the gifts I picked. Because to me, whatever the gift, if it comes from the heart and embraces the true meaning of the season, it's going to be the perfect gift.

Happy Holidays to all my friends and family. May the rest of 2012 be filled with an abundance of love and blessings for you and your loved ones.

The Smiles (included)

When Jane died from Leukemia, I was feeling like she was one in a million. I felt alone and like no one would understand. I admit selfishly I felt like I was the only mom who has ever lost a child.

Maybe, it's because by nature I am naive, maybe it's because no matter how hard I try to fight it I am a "glass is half full" woman, maybe it's because I am just growing up and seeing the world through my "big girl glasses". The list could go on and on. But, the truth of it is that I am not alone and there are so many kids dying and too many dying of cancer everyday.

The sad reality is that there are so many parents that have to watch the beast slowly steal their once vibrant, healthy child. And, like everything else in life - until you are exposed to a situation, I don't think one truly is open to seeing how common things like childhood cancer and childhood death are.

The first month after Jane died, I was numb - completely numb! I would summarize those weeks as one where my mind was protecting my body by not letting me truly grasp the intensity of the loss. The brain is an amazing thing, and mine knew that there was no way I could have survived if I would have felt all that pain right away.

The second month, as the numbness wore off the exhaustion took hold. I was so tired I slept all the time. I would get up with the girls, get them ready for school, go to work, come home, enjoy supper with my Angels on earth, do homework, give baths, have a bedtime snack and then I would fall asleep next to them at 8 pm. In the past, I had a couple more hours in me - now, the heaviness of the world has grabbed on with both hands and I just wanted to sleep.

The third month has been my reality check. For me, I feel like the "realness" of Jane's death has hit me like a ton of bricks. The intense waves of grief, the constant reminders that Jane isn't going to be walking in the door any minute and the gallons of tears that have flowed out of my body are all things that I deal with daily. This has truly been the hardest time in my life. The intensity of the pain is unimaginable. It's so strong it can take you at a moment's notice and cripple you to your knees. I find myself so weak that sitting on the floor and sobbing is the only thing I know how to do. And, in those moments I feel like the only one in pain and so very alone.

But the reality of it is that I am not alone. I have many friends and family that are there for me. And, I am not alone because there are so many people that, like me, in one way or another are grieving a loss. Maybe it's something that comes with age or maybe it's the right of passage when you become an unwilling member of "the club" no one wants to be a part of - whatever the reason, I am amazed at the sheer number of people grieving this holiday season. I am appalled at the reality of how many moms and dads have lost a child - through cancer, illness, miscarriage or accident. My heart goes out to each one of you.

And as I read of more and more moms losing their child to cancer, or having those "private room" conversations learning that the reminding number of days in their precious child's life is to be measured in hours, days or weeks - instead of years and decades like they deserve, I have come to notice a common theme. That despite the odds against them, these kids still share their beautiful smiles with the world. And despite the world crumbling around them, the moms in their darkest hours are able to see those bright smiles and treasure them as the gold nugget they are.

Kids are amazing! Kids with cancer are phenomenal. These kids somehow have the amazing ability that even in their illness and death they can share the gift of their love through a smile.

My office is full of photos of kids smiling. I am lucky to see smiles everywhere I turn. My wish to you this Christmas season is that you can take one moment to smile and another to see the smiles around you.

This holiday season I challenge you to be more Jane-like and share the treasure that lights up the world - your smile. And when you find it hard to smile, please think about the kids who are sick and dying and yet somehow keep smiling. If they can do it, so can we.

Smiles are contagious - share one today.

Jane smiling as she finishes her last art project the day before she died.

 

The Beginning of the Rest of Our Life (included)

Jane and I shopping at the Mall of America.

As I transition from writing on Jane's Caring Bridge site to writing in a blog, I feel a little lost and uncertain as to what to write. Many things have happened in the last year and especially since Jane's and my dad's death that I often feel empty. In a way, the Caring Bridge entries were easy to write. In the beginning, I was writing so that when Jane grew up she could read about things that I had imagined that she may have forgotten. At the end, when we knew Jane's death was inevitable, I was writing so that her sisters and I would have memories that would last us a lifetime.

I feel so sad for her sisters that they are so young. I hope with all my heart I can do Jane justice and teach them all about her so that they never forget what an awesome sister they have and how much she loves them. 

An, although there is a big crack in my heart that will always have Jane and my dad's name etched on it, I am lucky to have faith that they are in a better place. I believe that both of them are in heaven and cancer-free. Jane being very kid-like and painting magnificent sunrises and sunsets and my dad fishing his heart out.

My biggest fear as Jane's mom is that she will be forgotten. I worry that she left this world before she had enough time to really make an impact on others and leave this world a better place. But, it feels like everytime that fear makes a nest in my heart, there is someone that reminds me that my daughter touched many hearts. Divine intervention or a message from Jane - I don't know.

What surprises me the most is the variety of people that Jane influenced. It warms my heart that there are so many kids, young adults and older adults around the world that remember her and so many that are doing their part in raising money for the CureSearch oganization, raising awareness about childhood cancer or keeping her legacy alive by wearing orange in her honor.

It's funny to me that people consider me an inspiration to them when really it is Jane and the others who demonstrate their Jane-like qualities that inspire me daily. There are many examples of inspiration, and I hope that this blog is the place I can continuously journal their influences on me. A recent one that replays again and again in my thoughts involves WDC and Sebeka students and their basketball coaches, teachers and friends. Last week, our family was invited to WDC versus Sebeka basketball games. It was a varsity doubleheader with the girls tipping off the first of the two games followed by the boys varsity match-up.

I was told before the game that people would be wearing orange, Jane's wallets would be sold and that their would be an activity in between the games to raise money. What I wasn't ready for the overwhelming feeling of love that I felt in that gymnasium that night. I tried really hard not to let anyone see my tears. I was relatively successful, and I think the only person that may have noticed me crying was my youngest daughter Anna. She ALWAYS notices no matter how hard I try to cover it up. Nine times out of 10, my four-year-old, soulful young lady likes to announce my crying to the world - and this time was about to be no exception. But, I caughter her in time. I caught her before my tears were the subject of her conversation and announced to everyone within earshot of her cute, innocent, little kids voice.

Anyways, the reason for the tears was that everywhere I looked I saw the essence of Jane. And, as a mom very afraid of her daughter being forgotten, orange is my new gold. The athletes were wearing "Team Jane" orange shirts. And, even some of the girls on the opposing team had orange ties in their hair. And, what I can see everytime I close my eyes and think about it is a gynasium where athletes, fans (on both sides of the gym), students in the students section and the coaching staffs were wearing orange. And, it wasn't just the WDC athletes/coaches/fans, but the Sebeka athletes/coaches/fans too. And, just when I thought I could regain my senses, the boys came out for the second game of the doubleheader. And, to see all the young men shooting their warm-up shots in Team Jane shirts tugged at my heart. Bittersweet to say the least! And, to again see the coaches from both boys teams wearing Jane's shirts - needless to say I cried a lot that night. They were warm tears. Tears of love.

I feel so lucky and so blessed to have been embraced that night by many people who are inspired by Jane and are helping keep her legacy alive. The kids and the adults in the gymnasium that night are my inspiration. They inspired me to start trusting again and have faith that maybe she really won't be forgotten.