MORE CONFESSIONS: My Mother's Double Whammy

Mom and Dad

     "You think we did the wrong thing!" she said.  "You think that we did something you didn't want us to do.  I can't do anything right with you!"

     

    "I can't to anything right with you, either!" I fired back.  "I can't say anything right to anyone!  I have to watch everything I say now.  Don't you understand?  I've lost the person I can be the most honest with!  He's gone and I have no one else.  He was the one I could fight with and still know that everything would be okay.  He was the one I could be completely honest with because he was the one who knew me...the real me!"

       I don't know why all of that occurred to me in that moment.  In fact, I don't even remember thinking it before I said it.  But the second those words were out of my mouth, I crumpled back into my breakfast-room chair in a big lump.

       And then I said something that inflicted instant hurt on my mother.

      "It's time for you to move back to your own house. I need to be alone."

      She gave me one hard, weepy look and left the room.  I could hear the sounds of packing going on in the basement guest room as she threw all of her stuff together.  I watched as she walked up the stairs with her bags, walked down the hall, and walked right out the front door without saying a word to me.

      It's hard to realize this when you're in the heat of battle, but we tend to lash out at the people closest to us when life hands us something we can't handle.  To everyone on the outside, I looked like I was behaving normally and progressing with life because that's what I let them see.  I couldn't afford to show my emotional hand to just anyone because then I ran the risk of them saying, "That woman is crazy and I'm better off without her."

    

That fight over nothing important had allowed me to let go, get angry, and finally yell at someone, someone safe, because deep down I knew that I would never lose my mother.  I knew that her love would force her to come back and never abandon me.  And I think there was a part of her that felt the same way.  She was scared and confused and didn't know her place in my life anymore, just as I didn't know my place in my own life.  I was irritated  that she got mad over something so trivial when, in those weeks right after Brad's death, I felt like I had earned a pass on anyone getting upset with me.  It didn't occur to me that I might have been her someone safe.  That she was letting her emotions go because she knew that in the end we would be okay.

 ~

1.   What has been one of the hardest moments for you as a parent, watching your child (and grandchildren) as they have tried to deal with Brad’s death?

There have been many hard moments.  Seeing Catherine at the hospital while we were waiting for the end of that chapter of our lives;  knowing that she was suffering, even when she said that she was fine when I would call to check on her; early on, listening to Haley say that she did not know why her eyes kept watering; hearing how Michael was the first to enter discussions at the children's therapy sessions; and hearing Sarah talk to Brad in the clouds were all difficult.

2.   Was there a moment where you thought Catherine had turned a corner in her grief?

      Seeing Catherine with her boyfriend at the time, Mike, at the hospital when he had his surgery made me feel that she could not handle any tough situation that came up.  I know that Mimi's (her grandmother's) situation while she was in the nursing home and her father's knee surgeries were difficult for her.

 

3.   Where did you find comfort as you tried to help everyone else?

      Our friends who listened and supported us were a tremendous source of comfort.  We are so lucky to have them all.

4.   Was there a moment when you worried that your relationship with Catherine would change?  Do you think it did?

      Of course, the day that I left her house after the weeks I had spent with her after the funeral, was hard.  I truly was afraid that we would not see her anymore.

 

5.   Was there something that someone did for you (or something someone said) as you worked through your own grief over losing a son-in-law that helped you?

     I will say that watching the kids at play when they go to Buffalo Creek (where Brad is buried) gives me comfort.  It is as though we can take a breath and say that even though we have the granite marker (with the correct date!) that will always be there, we can still laugh and enjoy life.

6.   Was there anything that surprised you about the book when you read it for the first time?

     I can't say that I was surprised at anything.  I am just glad that Catherine has felt the support of our family.  I think that this is sadly rare.

     Check out MORE CONFESSIONS: Be Patient and Listen
 to get a new perspective on supporting a friend through loss! 

MORE CONFESSIONS: Sisters are Sometimes the Best Medicine

Catherine and Kristi

A few months after Brad died, I took on the task of finding the right headstone.  Now, this turned out to be more complicated than I thought it would be because I had something very specific in mind for his peaceful spot on the side of the mountain.  I wanted something natural and beautiful.  Something that would look great in the mountains and would reflect his personality.

I settle on getting a boulder - not a stone, a boulder - which I knew would be a little pricy, but I wanted to do this right.  After all, how many husbands was I going to bury?

After a couple of weeks, I was surprisingly excited when they called and said that it had been completed and installed in its new home.  I mean, this was no small task.  Brad was buried on the side of a mountain, after all, and this was a huge rock the company had to lay a cement foundation so that it wouldn't eventually roll down the hill and then they had to hand-carry that sucker in.

So, when I heard it was finished, I immediately packed the kids up and drove them up to the cemetery.  I stood there in misty silence, admiring my handiwork, which really was a thing of beauty.  In fact, I was so proud of how it turned out that I took pictures to send to my in-laws in Pennsylvania.

Then it hit me.

His birthday was wrong.

I immediately called Kristi in hysterical panic and told her what I had done.

At which point she started laughing so hard she couldn't speak.

This, you can imagine, did not help at all. It's like laughing at someone when they tell you they're pregnant again, on accident, for the fourth time and they just found out that it's going to be twins.  The story may be cute and funny later, but at the time...not so much.

"Oh, Catherine," she said, trying to catch her breath.  "You can't tell me you don't think this is funny.  You can't tell me that Brad wouldn't think this is funny."

Eventually the headstone got fixed, thanks to a couple of men with a grinder and the ability to re-etch the number.  I came to the conclusion that if they had the ability to fix it, surely I wasn't the only widow in the world who had made this mistake. And I learned two very valuable lessons that day:

1.  You can try all you want to be the perfect widow, but all it takes is one typo on a tombstone to blow your cover.

2.  There is no such thing as the perfect widow.

~

1.   At the beginning of the book, when Catherine talks about being at the hospital with Brad after his accident, she said that the second night she was there she wanted you to stay with her.  How did you feel about that?  Were you nervous?

 

I was probably flattered that she asked me to stay with her above all the others that would have been there.  I don't remember being nervous about being together that night.  After the previous night not knowing what Brad's prognosis was and then the previous day waiting for Brad's family to arrive and tell them the horrible news, almost nothing could make me nervous.  I remember feeling exhausted and very sad.  

I also remember going to Wal-Mart in Colorado Springs to buy underwear (me) and contact lens solution (Cath) and thinking how weird it was that all these people were walking around in the store having a normal day while our family was experiencing this huge tragedy.  Ever since then, sometimes I'll be a the grocery store and think, "Someone in here may be having the worst day of their life right now."

2.   What were things that you felt helped Catherine after Brad’s death?

Hopefully knowing that her family and friends were there to support her in whatever way we could (emotional, financial) and that her kids would be taken care of one way or another by Catherine's network of people.  Also, it seemed that when she found that group of young widows to hang out with it really helped her feel less alone.

3.   What were things that helped you deal with losing a brother-in-law?  

Hmmmm, I rarely analyze my process with losing Brad.  Maybe I never really did properly and that's why I sometimes, 7 years later, find myself tearing up thinking about him.  Could be time for some therapy for me!

4.   You are not only Catherine’s sister, you are also her financial planner.  Was there anything about this experience that made you change how you helped people plan for the future?  

  

There are lots of things that I learned from helping Catherine:

• Always ask if there might be a Worker's Comp Widow/s/Child benefit available.
• The widow must open all mail immediately or arrange for someone other than the widow to do so.  We missed a window to roll Brad's 401(k) to his IRA and had to do some extra tax work to fix that mistake.
• Some widows do two things right away:  Remodel some part of their house, and buy a sporty new car.  As a planner, you have to make room in the budget for these things, but also try to put appropriate limits out there so the life insurance money doesn't all go in a flash.
• Try to keep widows from making huge life changes within the first year of their loss.  For example, major job change, moving to a new house or new state, getting re-married.  These are almost always things that are expensive and regretted later when everyone is thinking clearly.

5.   Be honest.  Did her retail therapy phase worry you at all?  

Yes.  It always does with widows I work with.  Once the money is gone, it's gone.  Planners rely on any insurance to be there to support living expenses and help pay for college and retirement in case the widow can't replace the income of the deceased spouse.  Many people (not just widows) go for the short term high of buying something when they feel bad.  However, the long term effects of no savings will make you feel REALLY bad in the long term.

6.   How does Brad’s death affect you now?  Are there moments that make you think of him?  

I think of Brad often and his death still makes me very sad.  It affected our family in so many ways.  He was so much fun to be around.  For me, personally, whenever I need advice on something that needs fixing, I miss Brad!  It's especially sad that my husband lost his best friend.

Check out tomorrow's post  

MORE CONFESSIONS:  The Double Whammy.

Celebrating Me on Mother's Day and How I Became A Father

My husband developed a knack for pissing me off on Mother’s Day.

It started when I was pregnant with our first child.  Mother’s Day hit around my five month mark and I anxiously anticipated the thoughtful gift my husband would surprise me with as the mother of his future child.

I should have braced myself for disappointment.

“Why should I buy you a Mother’s Day present?” Brad asked.  “You’re not a mother yet.”

Having just given up deli meat, my figure, and more importantly, beer, I responded with, “Well, I’m more of a mom right now than you are a dad!”

And when that got me nowhere, I ended up going shopping on Mother’s Day Eve and buying something that I didn’t need and cost more than he would have spent if he’d just gone out and gotten me something, hoping to teach him a lesson.

I’ve come to believe that most men never really get what women want for Mother’s Day.  While we women encourage our men to either get out in the sunshine and play golf for an entire kid-free day or thoughtfully plan their favorite meals whilst they recline on their Barcaloungers, men seem to think that what women want is some sort of family day.

Let me assure you…we don’t.

Three kids and five Mother’s Days later and my husband still didn’t get it.  It took a friend’s husband to bring to his attention that what women truly want for Mother’s Day…is to not be mothers at all for at least two hours.

We were sitting at brunch that Sunday (because I’d thought ahead and made reservations for us) with our friends when suddenly her husband turned to mine and said, “Why don’t we let the girls go to movie or something while we watch the kids?”

As Brad pondered that notion, I felt the heavens open up over my ham and cheese omelet and the second he said, “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” I grabbed my purse, my friend, and my freedom…and bolted.

I can’t even remember what movie we saw that day.  All I remember is feeling somewhat jealous of my friend for having a husband who would come up with a plan like this without being prompted.

And then, about a year later, I felt jealous of my friend for having a husband at all.

The first Mother’s Day after Brad died – I won’t kid you – it was rough.  I had no idea how much I would miss that righteous indignation when I woke up to a card and ten loads of laundry.  But I began to look at those past Mother’s Days - the ones where we spent an hour on a restaurant waiting list with three toddlers because he hadn’t planned ahead or the many times we used that day as “Backyard Cleanup Day” - with a wistfulness I can’t explain.

You know you’re missing someone when you wish he could come back and piss you off just one more time.

Father’s Day is, of course, even worse.  As a mother of three, I’ve spent the last few years since he’s been gone, trying to jolly us along while all I want to do is bury myself in the backyard next to our old dog.  It’s unnatural for kids to have to spend a Father’s Day releasing balloons at a cemetery or making cards for their grandfather at school because their dad isn’t here anymore.

And even though their dad died when they were so young and they really don’t remember celebrating any other way…it breaks my heart a little every time.

It makes me think of that age-old question:  “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?”  My version is, “If the dad is no longer here…is it still Father’s Day?”

I can’t speak for everyone else who is walking a path similar to mine, but in my family’s case…yes, it is.  

Actually, my Mother’s and Father’s Days have gotten a little mixed up.  For example:  Last Mother’s Day, I bought myself a new grill.  Now, if my husband was here, that would have been his gift for Father’s Day (I think.  That man did always like finding free grills on the side of the road, which always creeped me out).  And then for Father’s Day, we bought him flowers to bring up to his grave.

A little twisted, don’t you think?

I celebrate myself a little on Father’s Day, too, because, after all…I’m both parents now.  I’m the one fixing bikes, toilet paper holders, and cleaning out the gutters while also trying to get supper on the table, kiss skinned knees, and squeeze in a load of laundry when I can.  I’m the one who will have to get the lawn mower repaired this year before I can use it, who has a beer after putting steaks on to cook, and who will, I’m sure, yell at my son at least once for exploding something in our driveway this summer.  But I’m also the one who plants all of the flowers on my front porch, cooks the sides for those steaks, and makes sure that my son cleans up his mess the right way.

I’m both.  And I know I’m not alone.

There are a lot of fathers out there who are also mothers and there are a lot of mothers out there who, like me, are also fathers.  We often carry this load without anyone knowing how heavy it truly is.  Most of us make it look effortless to the outside world, but I assure you that on the days we celebrate mothers and fathers, we wish someone could be there to raise a glass to all that we do.

Because the person who would appreciate us the most isn’t here.

So, this year, the kids and I will do what we always do for Father’s Day – celebrate and remember a great dad, a slightly crazy husband, and the best friend I’ve ever had.  And I will also do what I’ve always done every Mother’s Day, even the one when Brad didn’t think I was an actual mother yet, and go out the day before and buy myself something unnecessary and expensive, irritated that he didn’t buy it for me.

Some traditions are always worth keeping.